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The Sovereign's Darkflame	By : Lord_Tyrant Category: +G through L > League of Legends Views: 11771 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The following work, concerning the intellectual property of Riot Games (League of Legends), is entirely non-profit and no intention is made to market or unlawfully charge for it.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Being comfortable with one’s self is a luxury taken for granted.

*~*

Though magical herself, Shyvana didn't know where to begin understanding 'true' magic. Rituals, incantations, instinctual power; it took many forms. The easiest-to-use kind, in her experience, was the ‘condensed’ version: like smiths in their forges, someone instills great power into an item of some kind. At that point, all it needed was some familiarity to use it. Even the most incompetent or untrained user could have magical power, then.

Thanks to such simplicity, the incomprehensible difficulties of something like teleportation magic became hilariously trivial. Though, she had been told the gem she possessed took great time and effort to forge. It seemed a small price, given what it was capable of. All she needed to do was venture out to a secluded location, and retrieve the Ionian gemstone she’d been given. Then, by concentrating, the inner magic would respond, following some set instruction that conducted the spell within.

Shyvana looked up, lazily watching fanciful purple lights spread out into the air around her. They were ritual words of some manner, though she didn’t know the script. One by one, they connected to each other, point by point, forming a lattice-like cage.

As soon as it took shape, the world outside the cage melted away in a flash. For a brief, yet punctual instant, a sensation of weightless falling overcame her, drowned by the nothingness of oblivion. Her senses barely registered the surreal, otherworldly sensations before it was over.

The scenery flickered in an instant, making her irritated eyes blink. Solid, chiseled stone bricks replaced the dirt beneath her, and a building took shape, its white wood dimmed with gray aging. The hut had no real walls, its roof supported by pillars, giving her an unfettered sight of the new world around her. Oceans of blue skies and white clouds swallowed the world as the far as the eye could see, the sun burning brightly overhead.

A trickling of familiarity settled over her, one that has grown and grown over the months. Like always, the little teleport trinket she’d been given has put her at one of the floating huts. Shyvana rubbed her ears under her helmet, the sudden change in altitude making them pop as the rest of her senses settled in again.

Her golden eyes, meanwhile, swept over the sea of clouds she now stood over. Though imminently fluffy and filled with cotton-white color, she spied darker stains of gray and black amongst them. Huh. A storm must be coming if she’s raised the palace up this high. The whole thought tickled her with its ridiculousness, but the truth of it sat plain and evident. Shyvana had to keep telling herself she was a frequent visitor, after all. Some days more than others it still seemed like a crazy dream.

The half-dragon turned toward the hut’s exit. Two guards stood on either side of the door frame, clad in immaculate purple and black clothes. Wrapped up and entirely concealed, their chests neither moved, nor did they ever speak; they were equal in and height and build, not quite a man nor a woman, yet sufficiently intimidating. Her sharp ears never heard a breath, and she often wondered what sort of beings they truly were.

Like so many times before, she stepped up to them, clad in her crimson and gold-rimmed scale armor. Their long spears sat crossed in an X-pattern in front of the door frame, forbidding passage. “Yo,” Shyvana said simply, giving them a two finger, half-hearted salute.

Wordlessly, they uncrossed their spears.

Shyvana walked right on through, stepping out onto the long, swaying bridge. Formed with decently cut wood planks and well-kept rope, it served as the lifeline of the floating hut to the main platform. At three-persons wide, it was also comfortable to walk across, even if an unfathomable drop to the earth far below was a hair’s breadth away. Cold winds swept across the bridge, pushing it into a slow, hair raising sway. A slight tangy taste hung in the air, the faintest hint of lightning from afar.

… It wouldn’t be so bad getting rained on, she considered. Rains in Ionia weren’t fantastically different from Demacia. The scents that followed after, though, were a world apart.

She already knew she couldn’t convince Syndra to give it a try despite how nice the idea seemed. Maybe someday.

Reaching the central platform, Shyvana paid no mind to the other silent sentinels standing around. The whole of the complex served a simple, but incredibly effective defense from what she pieced together. The teleporter trinkets—she’d bet money there were others—all landed in the huts floating off far from the main palace. If someone were to try and break in, the guards would stop them. If that failed, the platform guards could cut the bridges to the huts, sending them hurtling to the earth. For a place that lacked walls, its first line of defense was also its only kind: the sheer height between it and the ground.

Once, she had laughed at the idea of a fortress without stone walls. How could such a thing exist?

Then she saw one descend from the sky.

It wasn’t a funny idea after that anymore.

Shyvana strode onward, her heavy boots coming to meet the soft soil of the palace grounds proper. Here, where the living lands met the cold, outer structure, a barrier of sorts existed. It wasn’t one to keep people in or out, but rather, to protect the lands from the high skies. A wave of heat and wet air washed over Shyvana, blasting away the frigid altitude airs and cold. Coughing into her hand, she paused for a minute, her lungs adjusting. This never gets easier, does it?

The sounds of Ionia soon began to dance in her ears. Strange cries from animals she didn’t know how to name, while others familiar but different. Birds chirping and screeching she knew, and insects grated the air with their shrill noises. Others, like the strange, long ‘whoops’ came from the strangest animals called ‘monkeys’. But, with the sounds, came the smells of humid earth and animals, then too came the air and its weight.

Every part of Syndra’s palace, her Celestial Fortress, came from Ionia itself. Tall, fragile looking grass dotted the ground, swaying to whatever winds blew by. Flowers bloomed as much for the sun as they did for the mana floating in the air, gulping in light or glowing vibrantly as magic was absorbed. Even the trees themselves were mighty strange: thin, yet possessed of great, stringy branches. They grew in almost every direction but up, seeming more like oversized bushes. Sometimes she found a few that were exceptionally thick and sturdy, reminding her more of normal looking oak trees.

The queerest thing of all was the land itself.

The closest word Shyvana found for it, was that Ionia was alive. Everything about it teemed with a living energy beyond simple magic or wildlife. In some ways, it called to her, a beckoning in her blood eerily like the dragon part when it wanted attention.

A frown crept across her face, but it ebbed away with each step. It’d be easier for her to be annoyed, but she couldn’t keep it up. When Ionia came calling, her repressed half soon stirred up. Shyvana spied at her hand while she flexed each individual finger, then formed and unformed a fist. A simple test of muscle and power, but with distinctly different results. In Demacia, she merely felt the pressure her hand created and the trembling force of exertion that wanted release. In Ionia—even a fragment of it—the overpowering desire to do more always followed.

How much is the person who wants this? Shyvana wondered, not for the first time in her life. Some days it was a part of her, demanding attention. Other days, it was her, fulfilling her own desire. On rarer occasions, she couldn’t distinguish one half from the other. Sucking in a breath, she exhaled slowly, calming the nameless feeling creeping up in her. She stared upward for a good minute, staring at the cloudless blue sky and the sun rays peeking through the forest. What am I doing here?

She did know, even if she didn’t want to put it to words.

Seeing Syndra should help; in some way, at least.

*~*

Shyvana carefully pushed open the large, wood-and-paper sliding door. For as sturdy as they really were, she’d broken her fair share overestimating them. They weren’t Demacian built, after all. She stepped in and shut the door it just as carefully.

The landing room was one of several she’d been through. Finely packed dirt met steps of wood, while racks for shoes and slippers sat off to the sides. They were meant for the in-and-out perimeter servants, supposedly. Shyvana squinted at them, but jerked her head up at the sound of slippers approaching. Ahead, in a three-way hall that intersected the landing room, a servant emerged. The short woman wore a white, form-wrapping dress, the edges of which were a fine, velvety purple. The vaguest image of a bird, stitched across the white in a deep gold, splayed its way across her breast. Her short-cropped, brown hair was neatly held into place with little gem-stone like hair clips.

Before Shyvana could get a word in, the servant woman shuffled over to the top of the steps, then slowly fell down to her knees. With her hands splayed in front of her, she bowed to the ground. “Esteemed guest of our Lady,” she said, her tone practiced in its reverence. “We are honored to receive you today.”

Shyvana scratched her nose while she still had the chance. Bloody Ionian formalities … It might’ve been excusable for her to not adhere to all of them, but she felt somewhat bad she couldn’t remember this servant’s name. She was one that attended to Syndra frequently—enough she’d seen her a number of times already. “Thank you for having me,” she said, careful with each word. “I’m sorry to drop in so unannounced. Is the sovereign receiving guests today?”

The servant sat up, regarding her with an impassive look not unlike those of butlers. “I am certain she is. Please, accompany me inward and I shall see to your needs.”

“I would be grateful.”

Rising up, the servant gave a flourish of her arm in a sign to be followed. Shyvana fell into step behind her, the sound of her heavily armored boots piercingly loud on the wooden floor. A tiny cringe gripped her with every step she took, feeling all the villain for breaking the peaceful quiet. Unlike almost any major fort or keep she’d been in, there wasn’t a bustle of troops or servants in Syndra’s fortress. Every noise she made screamed 'look, I’m here’.

They continued on their way down the widely spacious halls, wood-and-paper doors dotting the tapestry every so often. Where Shyvana was led to, ultimately, was a place familiar to her in function, if not form. Opening the door and stepping to the side, the servant beckoned for her to enter. The well-lit room was empty, save a central dais of white, circular stone. Two other servants awaited already in the room, younger girls but no less prim or proper than the elder leading her. Each held neat folded clothes in their arms, a kind of red-leaning pink dress Shyvana recognized.

The younger girls bowed to her, and she nodded back in kind.

They’d all done this ritual a few times already. Nonetheless, having three other women personally dress her was uncomfortable. She went through the motions: shedding her armor, then handing it off to the elder servant, and finally letting the younger girls dress her. When she finally emerged from the room, the half-dragon wore a comfortably loose long-sleeved shirt and pants. Equal parts women and men’s clothing, it offered the best comfort she’d found yet in Ionian styles. Her hair itself suited toward a simple braid, she didn’t care much for the busy-work styles. Slipping on an offered pair of in-house slippers, Syndra’s personal servant led the way deeper into the palace.

Shyvana spied at some of the sights she could see, were the doors open. Indoor gardens were the most common, containing even more exotic sorts of plants: ones that had grasping vines that wiggled for water, others that fluttered and moved like butterflies, chasing after light. Meditation and training rooms followed next, filled with a busy quiet or murmur of thoughtful contemplation. A few of these practitioners noticed her, visibly overcome with excitement or reverie before they disappeared from sight.

Her wandering eye did little to ease her mind. Will she be annoyed? the half-dragon wondered, weighing the thought. It’d be easy to barge in and take the attention she wanted, one way or another. But, similar to Jarvan, Syndra had sovereign responsibilities, and certainly a great amount of work to do.

On the other hand, her way isn’t at all like Jarvan’s or the King’s. A wry smile spread across her face. How the hells do I be considerate here?

The doors they arrived at carried themselves far differently: recessed further into the wall, and the frame made of metal rather than wood. The paper itself had been replaced with some kind of opaque crystal or glass. The servant, standing in front of Shyvana, held her hands out, palms together, and made a standing bow. Seconds later, a pulse of light passed through the iron-like frame of the door, and the two panels slid into the walls of their own accord. The moment they parted, an incessant clicking sound filled the air, chaotic and unpredictable, yet always loud.

What a racket. Shyvana resisted the urge to rub her ears. A long, stretching expanse of a hall awaited on the other side, bisected by the walkway heading down the middle. On either side sat rows of low-to-the-ground desks and their seating pads, empty of anyone who might’ve been working there. The strangeness in the air caught her eye: hundreds of odd, double-sided dark iron pyramids spread out and about. They slowly turned head over heels in some ceaseless, nonsensical movement. There's quite a lot of these things, aren't there …

Shaking her head, she turned her eyes ahead, where a raised dais sat at the end of the walkway. An overhead arch crowned it in a simple, but prominent manner, surrounding it in a way not dissimilar to a throne. Fitting, she believed, for the regal being sitting there, attention fixed to a smooth, lowly desk. It may not be the King's throne in Demacia, but Syndra carried the power about her all the same.

A dark dress with deep plum-colored fabric and fine golden trim adorned her, making Syndra stand out sharply even when sitting. Rays of light shot in from the hall's sides where vast, open-arch windows awaited, heightening her foreboding presence. And yet, in the same turn, her white hair, neatly parted beside her head and spilling down her shoulders, offered its own comfort.

Shyvana saw it as beauty and regality intertwined. She’d seen a lot of sides to Syndra: the sovereign ruler, the mage she frankly didn’t believe had an equal, and a woman of convictions.

But, she also knew the parts of her no one else did.

The half-dragon bit her tongue, repressing whatever kind of sigh that threatened to come out. A queerness sat on her, making all the air and the hall itself feel terribly strange. She was elated to see her; she wanted to touch and hold her—to kiss her, even more. The sovereign’s mere presence, a vast ocean of weight undisturbed until brought down, lingered on her senses comfortably.

Only she would make me feel this vexed and still want her all the more, Shyvana thought, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“My Lady,” the elder servant called, taking a sweepingly grand bow to her knees that Syndra probably didn’t see at all.

“Hmm?” the sovereign’s audible hum reached their ears, as much as the magic within it made the floor shudder slightly. “What is … it …” Turning her gaze upward, the irritable frown on Syndra’s face bled away into one of blank surprise. Two eyes of stunning purple light, shimmering with a magical radiance, met Shyvana’s own. Though they were yet a fair distance apart, the half-dragon could see into them so clearly. All around them, the incessantly clicking pyramids came to a stop, their final ticks passing through like a wave in the air.

“The Demacian delegate has come to visit once again,” the servant stated, stepping into the silence with clean precision. “They wish to be received by you, if you welcome it.”

Syndra sat up at that, squaring her shoulders and straightening out into a proper sitting posture. “I shall, in good spirits, welcome this visit. Though we are past lunch, have the usual prepared for our esteemed guest.”

“Of course, my Lady.” The servant rose from the ground, and with a due deference to Shyvana, shuffled her way out of the room. The iron-framed door shut behind her quietly.

Shyvana scratched her nose. “Well, I hope you weren’t busy.”

“Oh, terribly, reading reports that should never reach my eyes,” Syndra returned almost immediately, her regal tone from earlier now flat and dreary. “I have the simplest of policies made by knowledgeable tutors, and still, people wonder what they mean. So many do not know how to read, let alone write; it is infuriating.” Shaking her head, the sovereign flicked her hand, and a dark, wispy glow of magic surrounded her lithe fingers. The papers upon her desk, as well as the ink brush and its well, levitated upward. The documents rolled themselves into scrolls, while the writing supplies neatly cleaned and set themselves into a box. All the while, Syndra herself stood up, her splayed open dress neatly folding in against her.

“But now, I can set this tedious work aside,” she said, stepping around her desk. Shyvana made a bet with herself right then, and it paid off as soon as Syndra walked to the edge of the dais. In true fashion, the sovereign took to hovering through the air, carrying herself a few scant inches off the ground. “Something far more imminently important has just come to my attention.”

Shyvana cracked an earnest smile at hearing the terribly out of place tone. Syndra spoke well, but her attempts at mixing the formal and the alluring together was truly, truly out of place. In its own way, however, she found it charming. “I’m glad someone as important as you can find the time for me,” she returned dryly, and a part of her hesitated. Everything felt right to approach: Syndra smiled, the air was calm, and it was just the two of them. It wouldn’t be so bad hurrying in a little and holding her, right? The incessant urging to go to her beautiful woman only grew by leaps and bounds the longer she stared.

In the end, she kept herself from running, and met Syndra halfway. The sovereign opened her mouth to speak, but Shyvana threw her arms around Syndra’s waist and yanked her out of the air. They came together in a strong-armed hug, the ethereal air around Syndra evaporating into a normal bewilderment. A flush scent—Syndra’s feminine self and that flowery perfume of hers—graced her nose and Shyvana breathed in with a toothy grin. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Syndra returned, bemused but smiling in return. Her wide eyes weren’t full of surprise, but getting grabbed always seemed to throw her off.

With one hand on Syndra’s grope-worthy backside, Shyvana snaked the other up into those white, clean locks of hair. The sovereign’s scent stoked the heady fire in Shyvana’s chest, her blood and body awaking with a shiver. A shadow of arousal followed–the need to be closer–and Shyvana hugged Syndra tighter. Their lips closed in, a few scant, warm breaths blowing upon each other. The very glittering light in Syndra’s eyes stood out clear as day to her, vibrant shards of gem-like radiance twinkling in and out.

Something only someone close could ever notice.

Something only just for her.

Shyvana, belly tight and eagerness in her blood, kissed Syndra, taking every part of her plump lips. A heated softness too long gone enveloped her mouth, too overwhelming to take in one go. Barely retreating an inch away, Shyvana kissed again, tasting those lips freshly anew. She wanted more, and more, and relief came in such hardy, little kisses that let her have every part of Syndra’s lips. Two arms wrapped around her own back, and a new, different force pulled her into the sovereign who so eagerly returned every kiss with one of her own. Soft, wet little pops too quiet to hear even a foot away filled the space between them, their own way of talking to one another.

It took real effort to restrain herself, but Shyvana broke away fully a minute or so later. Hot blood bubbled in her cheeks in magmatic lines, and she saw a more human blush on Syndra’s face. To her delight, the light, not-quite-purple lipstick her woman wore became a little messy–just enough a good wipe at the corner would be needed. A pleased smile, with all its pleasant light, sat in Syndra’s face, and Shyvana remained as close as possible without kissing her again. She had to be close, and closer still. Their clothes were in the way; it wasn’t like when they were naked. They were alone, weren’t they? The floor might work. They both had enough clothes to—

“How have you been, my dragon?” Syndra asked, her tone kind but fused with insufferable teasing.

Talking is a good thing. It is a people thing.

“… Difficult,” Shyvana said, finding it rather hard to use words. “Noxians stirring up strange trouble. Some others being weird when they shouldn’t be. Cold, lonesome beds.” Her hand on Syndra’s backside tightened under her last words.

But it is hard doing people and animal things together.

Syndra twisted sideways little, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and hid behind it while her eyes kept a coy look. “Then, I will graciously take that burden from you.”

“I would be grateful.” For the life of her, it took Shyvana a solid second to pick up the flirting tone. Syndra was trying, so she shouldn't really complain. “It’s been something else these last weeks.”

A pleased humming sound came from Syndra as she nudged Shyvana. Not quite breaking their hold, the two became side-by-side, and the hovering sovereign moved them toward the exit. “Tell me over a fine meal. Is it a good story?”

“No,” Shyvana remarked with a humorless chuckle. “Well, Jarvan got pissed at some idiots. That was a little funny.”

“It is something. Afterward, however, there is somewhere I will show you. You will like it.”

Shyvana’s ear perked up. “Oh, really? If I didn’t like your food so much I might want to skip to the fun …”

“Not like that,” Syndra said, a touch amused and her fair cheeks reddening. “Maybe. It is something I have meant to show you for a while now.”

They were nearly ready to leave, but one little question hung about Shyvana’s mind. She tugged at Syndra’s sleeve, drawing her attention. “What are these in here, anyway?” she asked, waving her free hand at the odd pyramid-objects floating around. One of them suddenly broke out from the herd, a dark glow of magic surrounding it. Shyvana stared curiously while it flew silently, coming ahead of them and resting above Syndra’s outstretched palm.

“This? It is nothing so special. Do you see the small slides inside of it?” Syndra said, pointing along with her finger. The pyramid itself was a frame, and recessed within the flat panels was an area containing dozens of tiny, iron-like rods, semi-circles, and other shapes. Shyvana, who squinted and leaned in, jerked back when they started moving. An incessant clicking arose, quieter than earlier, but all the more irritating now that it was closer. Not a hint of a pattern, reason, or logic seemed to be in the rods as they moved about. “It is a practice tool. First, you must be able to make it float. Then, try to keep all the slides inside while moving them about. You fail if a slide slips out or it falls out of the air.”

“Is this … is this really any useful to you?”

Syndra blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You lift this entire place easier than I can breathe,” Shyvana remarked with incredulity, her hand gesturing up and down. “And I’ve already seen your idea of fighting.”

The sovereign perked up, a haughty air accompanying her dignified—if smug—look. “That is true. But, consider this: just as much as a swordsman trains with a sword, an axman trains with an axe. They are both bladed weapons who end up with different fates. Moving a tiny amount of magic is very different from tearing a mountain from the earth, even if it is still magic.” The pyramid-shaped tool in front of them floated away at her words, rejoining the group it’d left. Shyvana’s eyes tracked it, and gradually, she took in all of them floating in the hall.

“Pff. Well, isn’t that something? I can breathe fire and turn into a dragon, you know?” Shyvana said, turning an accusatory gaze at her woman. A rich, bubbly laughter broke its way out of Syndra, wiping away her surprised expression. Shyvana, in turn, grinned sheepishly and squeezed her closer.

Syndra, collecting herself, managed out some words. “I am familiar with both, yes. Perhaps you would like to show me them later, hm?”

That caught Shyvana’s tongue, and the half-dragon couldn’t find any witty retort while they left the hall to wherever lunch was going to be this time.

When the iron-framed door slid shut, and the hall was empty at last, each and every one of the floating pyramids plummeted to the ground, and the slides inside them spilled across the ground in an outrageous mess.

But no one was around to hear it happen.

*~*

Lunch passed amiably, but Shyvana found herself growing restless nonetheless. In both a blessing and a curse, she recognized why, for it proved imminently familiar in nature. The whole of it started in her chest, right where her heart was. With every beat, it spread through her, rendering her scale-skin sensitive and perked to attention. The air became clearer to her nose, and her hearing sharpened enough to pick up the small sounds no one else could hear. Worst of all, her muscles itched with a yearning to flex and move, but no amount of work or training could satisfy them.

She’d been grateful Syndra’s surprise visit to wherever took them outside. The odd part was how it led them out of the palace grounds proper.

Shyvana spied around, once again, finding nothing but wild trees and grass. Overhead, the trees grew tall and wide enough to form a sort of tunnel, and their dew-touched blue-green leaves shimmered under the sun. A haze lulled in the air, almost a fog. Thin, and mostly transparent, she could see a light flicker through it, flowing along some invisible river. It wove in and out of the branches, sometimes following the muddy trodden path they were on, or disappearing off into the forest. She breathed in, and slowly, sighed.

Where are we going? I don’t see a building or even one of those fancy little gardens … Well. The kind you build, anyway.

“Are you tired?”

Her scaly brow ticked of its own accord, and Shyvana tilted her head to the side. Floating beside her, Syndra fit the air of otherworldliness that embodied this land in the sky. Her change of clothes left her no less immaculate and untouched, the thicker folds and tougher fabric ideal for the outdoors. The sight stirred up a well of emotions, all of them centered on simply wanting to touch her. “No,” Shyvana returned before looking forward again. “Just curious.”

“I see.”

They continued onward. The air shifted beside her, and a rustle of cloth-against-cloth played in Shyvana’s ear. She felt Syndra’s hand snaking down her arm before giving a little tug at the sleeve. Shyvana, certain her face couldn’t be seen, rolled her eyes. You can just ask, she thought, despite that she herself wouldn’t ever ask aloud. Lifting her hand up, the two of them intertwined their fingers, and Syndra’s soft skin warmly pressed into her rough, hardy scale-skin. A sensation long deprived since their last visit, Shyvana pointedly memorized every little inch, quietly tightening her hand a little.

A part of her kinda hated merely calling her 'soft'. Firm, yet supple, smooth but with enough texture to give a good feeling. The lack of calluses or other sore points from hard labor gave the sovereign a smoothness one could die just to experience once.

The path around them began to change slowly, the trees becoming fewer and opening the air more. A taste of fresh water teased her senses, accompanied by the babble of a brook or river. That, in itself, wasn’t unusual; Ionian gardens tended to sometimes have small, self-flowing water fixtures. What caught her the most was the normalcy of it, almost certainly making it something natural. How is there a river up here? Shyvana wondered with a touch of genuine intrigue.

She soon saw it when they emerged from the sparse forest. A hill of rocks stood at one side of a small lake—the sort a few fishing boats could fit on. It seemed the rocks were built in tune with a structure once, using supporting pillars and blocky bricks and fitting in a natural formation. Independent platforms lined the edges of the lake, smaller and more self-contained. Unlike the rest of the fortress, they were all weathered and cracked, with moss and algae growing freely near the water-touching parts. To her eye, it had to be decades old at least. The curiosity inside her tickled at the sight, and it took Syndra’s hand pulling at hers to arrest her attention back.

The sovereign guided her to one of the platforms, which almost looked like a dock once upon a time. Shyvana spied a most odd sight waiting for them in the form of a basket and rather large folded blanket. Her eyes swept back and forth, but nothing betrayed Syndra’s cool face. Silence pervaded, and finally, she quipped, “No, please, leave me in wonder about this place.”

“Hm? Oh.” Syndra let out an airy chuckle behind her hand. “Yes. It is quite a find, is it not? I acquired it not long after the Noxians invaded.”

She was being coy now, Shyvana knew. With a certain measure of patience, she waited until they stopped on the platform. The whole of it jutted a couple feet out into the water, but the shoreline was already so close it almost didn’t matter. Syndra, with a wave of her hand, made the surprisingly huge blanket unfold itself and neatly lay across the old stone bricks. Adorned in simple whites with red and golden edges, it was more thick and durable than decorative. Only once it was done did the sovereign set her feet down on it, much to Shyvana’s endless amusement. Others might’ve found it exceedingly arrogant how Syndra refused to dirty her feet by walking.

“Ah, so it laid around waiting for you to pick it up then?” the half-dragon said, sounding more like an understanding answer than a question.

“No? It—hnn.” Syndra scowled at her, lip upturned for a moment. “I suppose it is not so grand a story. Word had reached my troops about particularly strong Noxian chemical attacks. We traced the source to this—“ she waved a hand lazily toward the lake “—and thoroughly removed them from it.”

“I wanna say it’s just a lake, but I know it’s not.”

“How astute,” the sovereign remarked dryly, earning a cheeky grin from Shyvana. “The lake itself serves as a … mana fountain, I suppose would be a way of describing it.”

“Eh?”

Syndra walked to the end of the blanket, which itself was but a foot from the edge of the platform. Holding her hands out, a glow of magic arose around the edges, and Shyvana watched the crystal-clear water churn. A sphere of it arose from the roiling surface, so utterly clear she almost couldn’t tell there was any water at all. It floated towards Syndra’s hands, and the sovereign turned toward her, presenting the watery orb. “The water comes from the mana, giving life to the land around it. In this form, it is its most pure.”

Hesitantly holding out a finger, Shyvana slowly prodded the surface of the sphere, finding no resistance at all. Well, it feels like water? She mused, rubbing her fingers together. “Huh. I’ve heard of wellsprings like this, but they usually aren’t true or been mined out already.”

“Yes,” Syndra remarked, a sourness to both voice and face. “It will never be more than what it is, and such demands simply snuff it out entirely.”

Shyvana's head followed the flick of Syndra's wrist, and she watched. The watery orb shot off and bounced across the surface like a ball—once, twice, and on the third time, disintegrated with an unceremonial splash. “At least it’s pretty looking?” she offered and shrugged at Syndra’s dry look.

“If a bit unkempt. I really should have it rebuilt,” the sovereign said, trailing off into a thoughtful muttering. “Nevermind. While it is not too glamorous nor terribly proper, I am hopeful you might enjoy it enough to bathe in.”

“Come again?” Shyvana said in a double-take.

“Did I stutter?”

“No—I …” A chuckle bubbled out of Shyvana on its own from how ridiculous it all sounded to her. “You want me to go bathing in a lake?”

“What is wrong if I suggest it?”

The dangerously still undertone of that sentence played right into Shyvana’s shapely ear. “Oh, please, you get flustered showing an ankle in public,” she teased with a toothy grin. “Never expected you to want to go skinny dipping.” Syndra, with a dismissive snort, turned away, and Shyvana blanched. Not expecting that, her mouth opened and closed, and a panic arose in her throat. She had to say something—anything—to take her words back. Fuck.

She reached out to keep Syndra from walking away, but froze midway. With a distinct ruffle of clothes, Shyvana watched Syndra disrobe in stunned awe. Ionian clothes, being complicated and intricate, took a minute or two to fully remove. The outer layers slipped off without much ceremony, and Syndra leisurely untied her inner bindings, letting the soft inner shirt blossom open. Shyvana’s slitted eyes keenly watch them slide off in a smooth waterfall of cloth, oddly peaceful seeming despite how it stirred her heart.

“Such that you never doubt me again,” Syndra remarked with a cool tone and looking over her shoulder at Shyvana. “A woman feels her best without clothes in the way of water.”

That’s still skinny dipping! Shyvana wanted to retort, but bit her tongue. Instead, playing the fool, she shrugged her shoulders while shaking her head. “Alright, alright. I don’t see why you thought of me for it, though.”

“You are a dragon, would not mana touched water feel better than normal?” Syndra asked with a polite air about her.

“I …” Shyvana, taken aback, found herself without much to say. “Maybe?”

Lifting a hand, Syndra flipped her hair over her shoulder, and turned toward Shyvana in her true, naked glory. A smile crept across her lips, a glow of its own enticingly dancing with the shimmering power of her eyes. Taking a step toward the half-dragon, she moved with a slow, meticulous motion. Step, step, step. The whole of her body swayed with natural feminine grace—not that of a sultry seductress, but a woman with regal confidence.

Shyvana swallowed her dry mouth, finding herself on the backfoot. Though she didn’t take a literal step back, Syndra’s gentle aura belied its imposing intent. Worse, her eyes couldn’t divert from those wonderfully big, bosomy breasts gently bouncing, their perky red nipples begging to be touched. If she looked away, the sway of her hips waited, and even the secretive, small groomed tuft on the mound could easily be seen. Day-by-day, memories of such beauty were her only companion, and now that very woman walked toward her with such compelling confidence.

Stopping in front of Shyvana, Syndra stared down at her.

If the half-dragon could sweat, her brow might be covered already. “It’s dangerous to tease a dragon,” she muttered in a half-hearted warning. “You’ll end up on your back if you try.”

“Hmm, enticing, is it not?” Syndra mused with a tempting voice. She brought a finger up to Shyvana’s temple, then carefully brushed some stray hair behind her ear. “I too suffer from an empty bed. Worse, perhaps, because there is so much warmth missing.” Her hand cupped Shyvana’s cheek, and her thumb carefully planted on the half-dragon’s lips, keeping them shut. Syndra’s own face twitched, and the careful confidence she exuded cracked from the blush creeping up. An unexpected giddiness followed, and she hurriedly buried her face in Shyvana’s neck.

“This is truly insufferable,” she muttered, her talking lips ticklish yet pleasant to the half-dragon. Shyvana hadn’t a moment to speak before Syndra’s arms wrapped around her possessively. “I had not meant to be so vulgar, but seeing you, I cannot resist.”

A bubbly laugh broke out of Shyvana, and with a sweep of her arms, she grabbed onto Syndra herself. Unlike that demure hug she received, her hands sank into the sovereign’s plump, rounded butt. Her scaly fingers in their purple-hued, dark color pressed deeply, surrounded by pale skin. Syndra pushed herself into them, rolling her hips with unmistakable invitation. In a few moments later, Shyvana’s fingers eased up, leaving a hint of redness on that pale skin. “You like this, hm?” she asked, turning her head just enough to nuzzle her lips into Syndra’s ear. An airy gasp with a genuine taste of surprise answered back, stroking the half-dragon’s ego.

“Yes!” Syndra bit out sharply, her tone tight as Shyvana’s fingers sank deeply into her cheeks once again. A primal, but simple massage, one that so clearly told her body who was in charge right then. In a way, this was their trust of each other—one took the lead when the other wanted it. “I dream of it, some nights. Your hands on me, your tongue, the taste of your skin—I want all of it, everything. Yet you’re not there, and it …”

Desperation and desire alike mixed with a longing that left Shyvana’s heart weak. She knew it, too, those very same feelings that tormented her in the days between their moments together. “Forgive me,” she muttered, “I’m not very good at taking care of you, am I?”

“There is—mmm, there is, nothing to forgive,” Syndra moaned out lowly, squirming herself closer to Shyvana’s body. Were it not for the half-dragon’s clothes, their naked skins would be molded together in a kiss of their own. “The way of things are not for us yet … still, I hate it.”

“I know,” Shyvana offered, her own words sounding lame even to her. “At least, I can make it up to you tonight.”

“I have half a mind for it now,” Syndra grumbled.

“Are you really Syndra? That’s not complaining about it being outside?” Shyvana, with a merciless grin, teased. A hearty scoff answered back as Syndra pulled away enough they could stare into each other’s eyes. Her heart jumped at that flushed, excited face, tempered by eyes peeled in annoyance.

“Really, I am so accommodating with you … tch. How about I help you disrobe?”

It wasn’t anger, but Shyvana’s instincts knew enough to perk up in alarm. A shock of magical power crossed her senses, and her greedy groping hands froze. This, too, was uncomfortably familiar to her. “H-hey now,” she started to say before the touch of the ground left her feet. Syndra grinned at her, lips peeled in a smug sense of power—all the while, her pristine butt glowed with the red imprints of hands. Perhaps a little more of something else could be seen, hidden away and nestled deeper.

Shyvana, however, was too preoccupied with the magical restraints once again. This really isn’t any different from before, huh? she mused, her warrior mindset already trying to find a way out. With little ceremony, she found herself suspended in front of Syndra, her arms and legs only held a touch open. Tiny dark spheres had already woven themselves around her ankles and wrists, oddly stable and calm despite their fierce summoning speed.

“I hope it’s only disrobing,” Shyvana remarked dryly.

“Pfft.” Syndra, with an air of disregard, lifted a hand to Shyvana’s neck. She traced a finger along the softer scale-skin, her lips twitching at the small, residual pulses of veins underneath. Slowly, she went lower, hooking that same finger on the edge of Shyvana’s top, trailing all the way down to the sash tightly closing it all. “You should feel honored being undressed by me, after all.”

“Oh, I feel something alright.”

Their tones didn’t suit the sly smiles both of them wore. Syndra untied Shyvana’s sash, taking care to not be too fast, nor too slow. The long strip pulled away, uncaringly dropped to the blanket. The outer layer of the shirt followed in much the same way, leaving the white under shirt and pants left. Shyvana clenched her hands and held her tongue, letting Syndra have her fun. Those fingertips faintly dipping into her skin, probing with an illicit intent, had its own sort of fun, too. They didn’t fumble around, poking into the harder, less sensitive parts of her skin.

No, Syndra knew her body well, now. Arching into the sovereign’s wide fingered palm, she shuddered while it slithered down across her belly. If the harder parts felt less, the softer areas were more vulnerable, exciting her fiery veins. Her loins tensed on their own, anticipating those commanding fingers continuing down into them. Yet, vexingly, they disappeared, hooking into the rim of her pants instead. Down they went, and a cool, outside air slipped in, washing over her heated lower half.

Shyvana squeezed her thighs together, hiding herself. A wetness threatened to come out, the kind she knew would only lead to more teasing. Syndra, almost kneeling, looked up, her eyes creased with a knowing look. One leg became freed, then the other, and the half-dragon was left naked below the waist. “… Well?” Shyvana asked when Syndra didn’t really move or say anything more.

One hand came to rest on her thigh, and Shyvana shuddered, all too aware of its slow journey upward. It groped her with lavish freedom, quirking her muscles a tiny bit, then threatening to dip into the valley she hid.

“Shush. I am admiring your, mmm … “ Syndra’s thoughtful hum sounded as much a delicious indulgence. Her other hand took to Shyvana’s untended leg and indulged itself. “Ah, everything. Such beautiful colors you have.”

She picks the strangest times for this, Shyvana wondered with a touch of incredulity. At least, she busied herself with such thoughts, lest the glowing warmth of a blush really break out. Her heart tightened as those delightful hands crept up to her hips, grabbing onto her with absolute possessiveness. Syndra rose up, her glowing eyes pinkish with excitement. Those hands of hers shot up in a flourish under Shyvana’s shirt, peeling it off one arm at a time until she, imprisoned in the air, was as naked as Syndra herself.

The blush Shyvana kept down broke out at last, her magmatic veins lighting up with fire. The speed of such effective disrobing caught her off guard, and Syndra’s smug look told her all she needed to know. A shift in gravity followed, and Shyvana found herself set down onto the platform, the cage-like spheres evaporating out of existence. Syndra herself turned on heel and walked toward the water’s edge, her whole body pleasantly bouncy with each step.

Tease me and run, will you? Shyvana thought, flexing her fingers. She stepped forward, soft enough to not alert, yet still angled for her pounce. The half-dragon sputtered to a stop at the water’s edge, watching with some annoyance at how Syndra easily kept going on. Hovering without much of a care in the world, the sovereign turned around, smiling at her—was it in superiority, or just being pleasant? Shyvana couldn’t tell.

“Shall we?” Syndra offered, the tips of her toes skimming the water's surface. Almost immediately she jerked her feet up with a distasteful shiver. “Oh, it's cold.”

“Cold, huh? Perfect.”

Eying the water, Shyvana found it to be about her height in depth, deepening further inward, and rather crystal clear. A sandy bed intermixed with watery moss and roots, accompanying scattered stones. She shot a vicious smile at her teasing lover, who balked in turn. Planting a foot on the platform's edge, Shyvana kicked herself off in a dive, angling just for the area underneath Syndra. A hearty splash of water and a squeal of dismay filled her ears, and all the world became submerged.

Shyvana found herself already enjoying her little dive. The water was cold enough it felt refreshingly pleasant over her nude self. Her own high, internal temperature could vent itself freely, easing up the constant, at attention stress she lived with. Opening her blurry eyes, she spied upward, breath still held, and found Syndra still not quite in the water yet. Really?

Still, opportunities shouldn’t be ignored.

Twisting in the water, she angled herself vertically, and slowly pushed herself up through the surface. Grumbling reached her ears, but she didn’t pay it any mind, and grabbed onto Syndra’s ankle. The sovereign startled in an instant, twisting to look down at her.

“W-wait—!!” Her words died in shrill squeal from the draconic strength pulling her down. Shyvana caught Syndra in her arms, keeping her from going under completely. Syndra, gripping onto Shyvana’s shoulders for dear life, exhaled with a stuttering, full throat disbelief. “Y-you! You!”

Laughing and laughing despite Syndra slapping her shoulder, Shyvana pushed them through the water, kicking backward with her legs.

“This is so cold! Ah! Just, stop for a moment!”

The lake floor disappeared beneath her, and Shyvana complied. Some of Syndra’s magic helped keep them buoyant, undoubtedly her own attempts to get back into the air again. The half-dragon kept her arms locked around Syndra, pinning that soft body against her own. Wet, white hair plastered against Syndra’s face, and her glowing eyes were bright with an irritable crease that wasn’t quite all the way to a frown yet. Shyvana simply grinned at her, and they floated along, just their heads above the water.

“Really, pulling me down so suddenly!” Syndra grumbled, and she pinched at Shyvana’s hardy cheek.

“You have to be in the water to swim!” Shyvana shot back.

“I was getting there!”

“It takes longer if you think it’ll get any warmer.”

“It seems plenty warm with you,” Syndra shot back, then blinked.

Shyvana, in turn, shook off her own surprise and smiled a smug, blistering warm dragon smile. “Mmm, yeah, it is, isn’t it?” she purred out. “Better stay close if you don’t want to get chilly.”

Rolling her eyes, Syndra looked away enough to be disinterested, but kept staring from the corner of her eye.

Cheeky. The half-dragon’s brows quirked, and she snuck a hand up to the back of Syndra’s head. She faced them together again, and started to lean in, smirking with victory. Halfway to those luscious and waiting lips, Shyvana froze, and all expression fled from her face. A tension the likes of which that shouldn’t be there readily made itself known, deep in the core of her soul.

“… Shyvana?” Syndra asked with a weary tone.

“Sssomethingsss wrong,” Shyvana hissed out. “Back away, quickly.” She pushed Syndra, and the sovereign glided backwards in the water, carried by her magic. Clutching her own head, Shyvana’s face twisted in pure, furious concentration. Why? This is … why is it here? Now? She lifted her free hand, spying at the glowing magma pulsing into it. It grew brighter and brighter, for all the veins in her body came alive with a searing light. I’m not—this is–why? Here?

Her blood bubbled and roared inside her, rushing like a dam that gave away at long last. The water boiled around her, shooting juts of steam into the air, and her body disappeared. A geyser of flame pushed the water back, screeching with boiling breath and fire. In but a few seconds, the shadow of a mighty figure emerged, cloaked in steam too thick to see through. Little by little, the fog-like steam evaporated, and there stood Shyvana, not in her human form, but dragon.

Unlike the hulking physique of a true blood's, her form was thinner, almost lanky seeming. Her purple scale skin thickened to a hardy, tougher-than-leather texture, and mighty plates of hardened scales grew on top of it. Much of her body, in fact, was wrapped in these crimson-colored, gold rimmed armored scales, giving her quite the durable impression. Her head became that of a dragon with a long, narrow snout, and two viciously hooked horns cutting out from the sides of her temples.

Hunched in her awkward manner of standing, the lake water barely reached her upper thigh, leaving the rest of her armored body on display. Her large, reptilian eyes slowly blinked, coming into focus after the abruptly spontaneous transformation. Shyvana lifted an arm—now as much a single wing and hand fused together—staring at it and the water running off of it. I transformed? she asked herself, and then looked over to her other wing-arm. I couldn’t have?

“Shyvana!” a sharp, commanding voice declared. Syndra’s tone snapped her out of confusion, and the half-dragon’s huge head craned toward her. Hovering above the water, Syndra stared at her, not an ounce of playfulness in her aura. “What is wrong? What happened?”

“I—are you okay?” Shyvana asked, her voice deeper and raspy, far beyond human.

“I am fine. What about you?”

A touch of relief passed through her and Shyvana heaved a sigh, her very breath blowing some water away. “I don’t—I don’t know. I’m fine? I … I’m not angry, or anything. My blood awoke of itsss own accord.”

That fact bewildered her more than anything else. Her dragon blood always had to be coaxed awake, in one way or another. Rage was the easiest fuel to give it, but the shortest lasting one, too. If she relaxed, it would recede, and her transformation would end. This, on the other hand, had no stipulations. She breathed and moved as naturally as her human form, without the blistering, headache inducing focus needed to stay as a dragon. “I’m sssorry, thisss, it doesssn’t normally happen like thisss.”

“Pfft. Are you really joking now of all times?”

“What? No … okay, I guessss it ssslipped out.”

Syndra shook her head with a scoff. “Well, if nothing is wrong, then I probably have an idea.”

“What?”

“The spring might have done it.”

Shyvana craned her head downward at the spring underneath. It seemed no different to her eye, but the more she thought on it, Syndra’s earlier words came back. “Magic water,” she muttered—yet, still a loud sound, given her new size. She looked back to the naked sovereign. “Magic doesssn’t wake it up, though, or I’d never be sssmall around you.”

“Exactly. Perhaps there is something about the spring that lets it happen?”

“… I guessss. It makesss sssenssse.” Shyvana shrugged, distinctly audible with her ligaments and body mass moving. “Ssso much for ssskinny dipping.”

“I would not be so quick.”

“You think I can ssswim like thisss?” The half-dragon’s winged arms flew open, spraying water in every direction. Her purple-hued skin shimmered in the sunlight, droplets casting eye catching flickers of light across her wings. Atop her bones, the heavily armored, deep crimson scales stood proudly against the brightness, inviting a menacing taste to her visage. She struck such poses often to terrify the feeble minded, but, entirely unsurprising to her, Syndra seemed enamored with it. The sovereign’s eyes swept back and forth across her lanky frame, and a creeping feeling of naked exposure tickled the back of her mind.

Still, Shyvana kept her proud stance.

“No, not swimming,” Syndra returned, waving her hand dismissively. “You can lay down in it, can you not?”

“I already turned into a dragon. What if I ssstart ssspewing fire everywhere?”

“We won’t know until you try, will we?”

This woman. Shyvana rolled her eyes, a creak of fluid and muscles accompanying the gesture. She snapped her winged arms shut and dropped down from her hind legs, taking a more natural four-legged position. Water erupted into the air at her sudden, immense landing, splashing the platforms and shoreline. While she wasn’t to the size of true dragons, she easily dwarfed everything here without much effort. The magical spring could, at best, give her about three body-lengths of resting space.

Enough to relax, though not enough she might not wreck something.

“Must you keep splashing me?”

Syndra’s snappy voice rung in her ears, lacking the bite of true anger. Shyvana blinked and cocked her head. “Oh. Right. It’sss not sssafe being clossse to a dragon, you know.”

Wiping her eyes once again, Syndra shook her head. “My trust is not so easily misplaced.”

What in the hells does that mean? I’m not joking? I could really—Shyvana stopped herself, old memories threatening to resurface. To be a dragon was not to be gentle, and she had destroyed enough in her true form, wittingly or not. She grit her teeth, and though Syndra hovered well outside of reach, recoiled away from her, one splash-erupting step at a time. Her winged arms walked mostly by virtue of her elbow-like knuckles, making every motion an awkward, bat-like crawl.

“I tell you, it’sss not sssafe,” Shyvana hissed warningly. “I could hurt you.” Though nothing to the naked eye appeared, Shyvana instantly saw the aura around Syndra shift. The sovereign straightened herself up, squared her shoulders, and approached in that intimidating, regal hover of hers. The half-dragon found herself backed into a corner: short of running down the forest’s trees to escape, she had nowhere to go. Her tail thumped against the mossy, soft grass of the shoreline, smashing it flat.

“Could is a word I put little faith into,” Syndra stated, her words punctual and possessed of power. “Tell me, Shyvana, will you let yourself hurt me?”

“I—ssstop, don’t come clossser!” Shyvana begged. Little room remained now, and despite her enormous size, she scrunched into herself no different than a cat in a corner. “I didn’t even know I sssplassshed you. One hit and—“

“If you hit. Do think I am so weak as to be?”

Syndra was in her reach now, easy enough to swipe with her claws. Shyvana tightened her arms, deadlocking them from doing anything except grip mushy lake sand. “Weak? No. But, you are ssstill human,” she hissed out angrily. “One time. Only once. I don’t …” Unbidden thoughts threatened to spill in, fears and terrors she never dared give names to. Still, Syndra approached, lifting just a touch more to arrive before her thin snout. Despite her own lanky body compared to other dragons, she could still easily fit an entire human inside of it. One little bite.

One fast snap.

Her teeth grit together, sheer anxiety keeping her mouth shut. There was a part of her that wanted this fear gone. The thing in front of her that terrified her so. It had to be killed; and Shyvana did all she could to silently scream that instinct into submission.

“Shyvana.”

To the half-dragon's ears, the sensual reverberation of power in Syndra's voice took on clarity far beyond human. That one word of her name echoed in her mind, a lifeline of sanity soothing her frayed instincts.

“Why are you so afraid?”

Incredulity mixed with anger. “I told you,” Shyvana grumbled and hissed through partly shut lips and clenched teeth.

“You did. Why do you not trust me?”

The half-dragon’s eyes squinted, a question she hadn’t expected. “I do?”

“It does not sound like it,” Syndra returned, sharp and with a taste of admonishment. “I tell you again and again you will not hurt me. Here you are, coiling away like a frightened child because you think you will.”

The dragon half drew anger at this thing invading its space, but Shyvana’s blood boiled at the utter dismissal she heard. “Idiot! One hit, and you die from me. One breath, and you burn away. It’sss not jussst me in here! I can’t trussst I won’t do it!”

“Oh? Is there some other personality you hid away from me, Shyvana?”

“N-no, the dragon blood—“

“So, it is still just you in there, then.”

“That’sss not how it worksss!” Shyvana’s tail whipped into the air and slammed down, cracking a tree in half. The thunderous noise echoed in the spring’s clearing, but Syndra remained yet undaunted. “I don’t lisssten to myssself!”

“And I was no different, once. You do not have to—“

“You are human!” Shyvana, for the first time, opened her mouth, and shouted; a roar-like noise, to anyone else’s ears. “You don’t betray yourse—“ A pressure slammed into her, freezing her body with a terrible grip. Her mind screamed in alarm, frightful of the incredible magic so suddenly drowning every inch of her body. The thin veil that kept Syndra's immense aura away suddenly disappeared, all too quickly swallowing her whole. Shyvana could not even more her tongue, and dimly felt thanks her heart still ferociously beat. Her golden, fire-erupting eyes locked with Syndra’s, dark with the powerful aura glowing across her.

“Am I, really?” Syndra asked simply, the chill in her tone rattling Shyvana’s heart at hearing it.

W-what? the half-dragon wanted to say, but the words couldn’t form.

“Power beyond imagination, and more yet still awaiting me. They thought I was a goddess when I was born. Did you know, I blew out the doors with my first scream?” Syndra paused, as if waiting for a reply, before continuing. “I broke my first spoons without even realizing it. My mother lost her tree garden because I wanted to help move them all. Really, what was there to trust about myself?”

The sovereign held her hands open in a wide, almost welcoming gesture. “I lived every day as a child frightful of who I would hurt without trying. How could they understand me, when I did not understand myself? For certain, there are no others like me. Even mages are but pale shadows beneath my feet.”

Shyvana tried to struggle, but the magic restraining her refused to yield even an inch.

“So, do not stand there and tell me I do not understand, Shyvana. I may not have two bloods, but we are not so different in the end.”

That unfathomable ocean of power evaporated around her, and Shyvana reflexively sucked down a gulp of air, her head dropping to the ground. There she sat for some minutes, counting her heart beats, calming her frayed, angry impulses. Her winged arms flexed in the spring’s earth, and her tail swept back and forth, knocking away debris. Slowly, she drew her gaze upward, and her head followed, until she was eye level with Syndra once more.

“And what would you have me do?” Shyvana asked, testing each word. People words for people ideas, not animal ones.

“Do you want to be in control? Or be controlled?”

“What a dumb quessstion. Of courssse I want to control it.”

“Not ‘it’. You. You want control over yourself.”

“What’sss the difference?”

“If you do not acknowledge who you are, it will always control you.” A sardonic sort of smile came over the sovereign, one Shyvana found really unbefitting to see on her. The half-dragon looked away, mulling over her words.

Who I am? Hmph. The half-blood, probably.

Her whole life was drawn in measure to that. From the loss of her father, and the human mother she never knew, to the hatred and fear all others gave her. To dragons, an abomination of the natural way; to humans, just another monster, out to hunt them. Her blood always went at odds with itself, one never winning, but neither wanting to lose.

Day in, and day out; always struggling.

Shyvana craned her head back toward Syndra. “And how did you do it?”

“Painfully, and with a lot of lessons I never wanted to have.” A more sarcastic smile took over her features then. “My way may not be the same for you. But, trying, and striving to be in control, I know you will always get closer to it. One day at a time.”

“… You know thossse lesssssons you sssay might jussst be like I sssa—“

“If you live in fear of them, then you will never progress.”

Shyvana’s jaw clicked shut. Her dragon form, ultimately, lacked much expression, something she thanked herself for this time around. She’s not wrong. But, she really just … it only takes one time. How do I train and not fuck up that one time? It seemed silly, like teaching a recruit to parry when they had never held a sword before. If one did not swing, one did not learn to parry. “Thissss isss dumb. How do I ssstart then, geniusss?”

Rolling her eyes, Syndra turned around, and waved her hand to be followed. “We will start by relaxing, first of all.”

Huh?

Nothing more was said, and Shyvana watched Syndra hover toward where the blanket and basket were.

Her instincts calmed nonetheless, finally feeling free from that cornering power. Shyvana tentatively crawled forward, stretching her winged arms in awkward steps. The rest of her long, lanky body followed, and the half-dragon crept across the shallow spring. With each movement, her tension bled away, the soothing waters rushing across her scaled skin and burning hot muscles. Tiny wisps of steam arose around her, not quite creating a proper boil yet. Shyvana’s sharp ears picked up the sound, and a grimace overcame her.

Just being near me can burn her. A memory, barely minutes old flashed through her mind, one of accusations of mistrust. It is not that I don’t … but … The words she wanted just couldn’t come to mind.

Shyvana stopped before the platform Syndra landed upon. The sovereign inspected their belongings, a frown creeping across her face.

“Hmph. Of course they all got wet.”

An airy snort ripped out of Shyvana’s nostrils, drawing a pair of sharp, accusatory eyes. She looked away innocently.

“Never mind that then. Come, Shyvana. Lay down in the water here.”

“Ha?” the half-dragon couldn’t help exhaling. It seemed she could, and her head would still be above the waterline by her guess. “Ssseriousssly?”

“Yes. Lay down comfortably in the water, and be sure to rest your head on this platform.”

Is she nuts? Shyvana cringed from her own snapshot thought and gingerly nodded her head. Shimming her huge body back and forth, she stretched out her legs to a comfortably wide, lazy opening. With her winged arms, she had to spread them open and ahead, almost hugging the spring’s grounds in a sense. Syndra hovered out of the way, and Shyvana uneasily eyed the platform awaiting her. I hope I don’t get a kink in my neck from this. And, with a tentative lowering of her head, she laid herself completely flat. While the platform was wider than her, their blanket definitely disappeared underneath her jaw. A faint crackle of wood and glass breaking reached her ears, and her reptilian eyes furrowed in worry.

“Wasss that the—“

“Do not worry about it.”

“Why do I sssmell honey?”

“I said do not worry about it.”

“Ssserioussly? You didn’t move our sssnackss—“

“Shyvana.”

The half-dragon shut her mouth then.

“Are you comfortable, now?”

Shyvana couldn’t quite see Syndra, wherever she was floating above her. “I guessss. My chessst isss covered in dirt now.”

“Good. Now, focus on breathing.”

“One of your meditation tricksss?”

“In a sense. Listen to yourself. You have not really been like this without anger before, correct?”

The truth of that caught Shyvana off guard. Even by her own admittance of the fact, she still found herself surprised by it. Huh. Being a normal dragon, I guess?

Did normal dragons feel such intensity all the same? Or, being human in a sense, did it leave her so uneasy? Shyvana scoffed, her breath blowing dirt and loose debris away from in front of her. Such thoughts, in the end, landed in the crap pile with all the others. There simply wasn’t anyone to ask like her how they felt. “Fat load of good thisss doesss me,” she muttered under her breath. Her eyes, already half-lidded, snapped open when something moved in her vision. Syndra herself descended before her, coming dangerously close—an arm’s reach, in fact, to her snout-like face. Shyvana clenched in an instant, utterly rigid and unmoving.

“What are you doing?” Syndra asked, admonishing more than anything. “Be comfortable, and focus on breathing.”

“I can’t when you’re right there,” Shyvana hissed back. “It drivesss me crazy.”

“How flattering. Try, all the same. You know I won’t hurt you, Shyvana.”

Knowing that doesn’t make it easier? Shyvana marveled. Sucking in a breath, a peculiar scent wafted into her nostrils, something that jarred her attention completely. A wave passed through her, not unlike a shot of adrenaline in battle, but this brought peace instead. The half-dragon froze, her eyes blinking slowly as the familiarity of it registered with each follow up breath. It was a scent she knew—highly specific, in fact, with its touch of femininity and flowers. Her eyes, having gone unfocused, sharpened again upon Syndra. A mere human woman, almost touching her scale-skinned snout, as every bit as beautiful as always.

“Your sssmell,” Shyvana said, her words carried with a low, purring rumble.

“I don’t smell!” Syndra retorted sharply with a scowl.

The half-dragon rolled her eyes. “Not that. Your ssscent. I sssmell it.”

“… What about it?”

“It helpsss,” Shyvana said simply, not sure of what other words to use. “Like when we’re in bed together.” To her amusement, Syndra’s offended air was swept away by one of embarrassment and pride. The sovereign carried herself a little taller, smiling and wrapping her arms together in a way that tried to be enticing. Shyvana wanted to laugh at the sight, but it might ruin the air if she did.

“Well, if you say it does.”

“Mmm, yeah.”

“Why did it not before?”

“I’m a fire dragon. My sssenssse of sssmell iss ssshit.” If she were to be truthful, it was only bad in her dragon form. Shyvana didn’t know why the two were different, but such was her life.

Breathing in, and breathing out, Syndra’s scent warmed its way across her senses. The rattling agitation in her blood—that fighty, intrinsic need to rip out and tear—settled down. Not enough that it disappeared completely, but enough she found herself a little drowsy. A genuine sense of ease crept upon her, the cool lap of the waters against her body wonderfully relaxing. She lazily watched Syndra tentatively reach out with a hand and touch her scale-skin.

In all, she barely registered it as more than a slight bump of pressure; maybe a little itchy.

“Doesssn’t that burn?”

“Huh? No? Warmer, perhaps, than when we are in bed together.” Syndra smiled at her with a cheeky, knowing look. “But, it does not hurt.”

“Oh. Good.” If that was the case, she really didn’t have room to complain.

Syndra felt along Shyvana's snout with both hands, keenly fascinated by it. Despite the ground underneath, the sovereign gradually landed, a feat Shyvana didn’t even know she could do. She kept her mouth shut, lest venom gets spat into her ears about it. Syndra slowly approached, stopping just short of hugging against Shyvana proper. A strange, unreadable mixture of looks went across her face, though nothing that the half-dragon felt offended by. Twin glowing eyes, alight with a bright purple tinged with pink, slowly looked over. “It is not too bad if I touch you, right?”

“Nnnmm, go ahead,” Shyvana muttered back. “Having my woman touch me is the bessst, after all.”

“Pfft.” Syndra rolled her eyes, and in a poorly disguised attempt, fingered loose, wet hair behind her ear. Then, she leaned in, pressing her naked body against the side of Shyvana’s snout in a wide-armed, hug. Her eyes opened in delight, a pure reactionary response that the half-dragon knew was genuine. “Oh, you are so … warm?”

Shyvana tried her hardest not to laugh. You say that with such a straight face?! She collected herself enough to say, “I’m a fire dragon.”

“That is not what I meant, you boob,” Syndra returned with a scoff. “This feeling—it is the same in bed.”

“What’sss that sssupposssed to mean?”

“You might be in a dragon form right now, but you are still Shyvana.”

The half-dragon’s eyes peeled into a squint. She knew this to be one of those cryptic, Ionian remarks that always carried meaning behind it. To what end, she couldn’t tell, but her heart steadily thumped harder in her large body, driven by a feeling she couldn’t pin down. A part of her truly hoped it was something silly like excitement, and not an imminent need to cough out fire. “H-huh, isss that ssso …”

If Syndra had a response, she simply leaned into Shyvana fully, laying her face on the half-dragon’s glowing skin.

I really wish I could feel her tits better, Shyvana groused to herself. If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it.

With nothing more to say, they stayed there. How long, Shyvana couldn’t truly say. Syndra shifted and moved about, until leaning onto her so much she became a makeshift bed. It wasn’t at all easy keeping herself still, even a small movement of her head might knock the human woman off. Still, she focused on breathing, and Shyvana found some measure of peace. Her mind, traitorously enough, kept circling back to one earlier remark.

Of course I’m still me, she thought, still finding the notion absurd. That didn’t change because I transformed. The dragon blood just … oh. Is that what she meant? A scowl settled on her brow, and her winged arms twitched, a faint wish to throw them up into the air incredulously. Just say I’m the same no matter what! Stupid Ionian nonsense.

She laid there, simmering on the idea more.

It’s not that easy. Which part is the real me? The human, or the dragon?

The beast, or the person?

If it wasn’t for this spring, you wouldn’t say I’m still me, would you? I’d be raging and rampaging, like my blood wants to.

But, if there’s a way I can be this, and not out of control …

Shyvana’s thoughts crawled to a halt, something she hadn’t considered before. To become a dragon, she gave into her blood, and embodied it in the truest sense. The human part of her suffered, crushed under such immense weight, but always fighting against it. She hadn’t the words to describe how it felt, she simply knew it to be true—no different than how one knew how to move their limbs.

Could the two bloods be reconciled?

Was it possible?

Her tail swayed in the water behind her, the only safe release for the anxious energy bubbling up inside her. “Ssssyndra,” she whispered. “Ssssyndra?”

“Hmm? What?” the sovereign returned, sounding drowsy.

“You sssaid we weren’t ssso different. Ssso, how did you take control? That part of you that doesssn’t lisssten.”

“I—ah, hmm.” Syndra rolled over onto her back, staring up at the sky and rubbing her face. “I knew it was part of me. If it was me, I should listen, I thought. But, bringing it inside, making it really me, that took time.” She held up a hand, as if to point or make a gesture, but didn’t. “In Ionia, there are many faces to a person. But, they are all still the same person. I thought if my magic was one of my faces, I simply needed to make it part of me.”

“One perssson, but many expressssionsss?”

“In a sense. I had to learn how to wear that face properly. After a while, I managed to stop blowing up my bed because my arm jerked.”

“… But you didn’t fight with yourssself.”

“No, I did. Maybe it listened sometimes, but … hm. It is hard to put into words, I suppose. When I stopped treating that face like it was not me, it started behaving.”

So, if I made my two halves part of me, I’d be what, exactly?

The idea itself wasn’t wholly new, but it seemed different coming from Syndra’s mouth. To quell her warring blood and find harmony was a dream she had since being a child. Was it truly so simply as just acknowledging herself? Shyvana’s gut instinct told her it wasn’t, but she wondered all the same. As a warrior could slightly adjust their footwork to become an immovable wall, perhaps seeing herself a little differently would yield results.

Shyvana hadn’t a clue where to even start with that. A thought did come to mind, and she said, “Sssyndra?”

“Hm?”

“You call me a dragon, like a true blood.”

“Yes …? What about it?”

“I think, perhaps, being a half-dragon isss more honessst.”

“Do you not hate being called that?”

Once upon a time, she told Syndra that, didn’t she? Shyvana exhaled through her nostrils in a long, drawn out sigh. “If it’sss you, I won’t. The othersss can fuck themssselvesss.” An airy giggle answered, a musical and resonant sound in Shyvana’s ears.

“Very well. I shall try, but do not blame me if I slip up. I have called you a dragon for so long, after all.”

“That’sss fine.”

Pushing herself up, Syndra tossed her head, sending some half-dry, half-wet hair around her shoulder. Shyvana couldn't help seeing her like a kind of goddess from stories with her beautiful, unblemished skin and literally glowing magics. Shyvana stilled, those captivating eyes gazing into hers with a warm smile that made her playfulness itch. “As you wish, then, my beautiful half-dragon.”

Shyvana’s heart sped up, and she knew precisely why this time. “S-ssso, ssshall we return?” she asked, her winged arms and hefty, dinosaur-like legs twitching.

“We have not been out that long.”

“I have sssomething much better in mind.”

“What do—Oh.” A warm blush bloomed over Syndra’s face, but it was not one born from embarrassment. “I would agree with that.”

“Wonderful,” Shyvana purred with a rumbling to her voice.

Their journey back turned into a frightful adventure, at least for Syndra. Shyvana couldn’t stop chuckling as they, completely naked, had to sneak back into the living quarters of the fortress, wet clothes in hand. She had thought to see Syndra embarrassed before, but such whole body, red-skinned blushing would be a memory she never lets go of. Nor would she willingly forget the taste of the sovereign’s body—every little inch, all hers. That was the first thing Shyvana realized both her selves really agreed upon.

Syndra had the best taste.
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The Sovereign's Darkflame