Work Text:
It would be a lie for Estinien to call the colorful markets of Radz-at-Han peaceful. He supposed the better word was comforting, although that made no sense either; he’d only passed through the city once or twice before returning at Vrtra’s request a few months ago. Hardly long enough for the bustle and cheer to calm his mind the way it did. Maybe any crowd would do. Maybe what he really wanted was distraction, for directionless noise and movement to divert his thoughts from the events of the past few days. From the darkness in the void, from the mysterious woman they’d encountered there, and from Vrtra’s strange new form.
The new vessel had been a surprise to Vrtra, so Estinien knew he could ascribe no motive to it. It wasn’t a sign of Vrtra backsliding into his previous habits and hiding once again. It wasn’t a sign of him hopping from one identity to another at the first sign of discomfort. It was just… a gift. So why did it sit so ill with him?
He considered, perhaps, as he wove through the crowd, that it was Vrtra’s request that they continue to call him Varshahn that troubled him. It had been the perfect chance for Vrtra to cast off the childish identity that some obviously still thought of him as, and yet he had clung to it, wrapped it around him like an old comfortable blanket. And that was all well and fine, but was Estinien meant to call him that? He’d never used that name for him in the first place, and it felt unfamiliar on his tongue. He’d avoided referring to him by name at all, which felt strange on its own. He wasn’t used to keeping his distance.
Perhaps it was just that he hadn’t had a chance to see Vrtra himself since returning. They’d been in the city a scant few hours before the Radiant Host had whisked him away for further training, and ever since he’d returned, Vrtra had been embroiled in meetings and discussions, catching up on all that had happened since he had been otherwise distracted. The new vessel was with the alchemists, and Varshahn– damn it, the old Varshahn– was probably busy with similar tasks. Only Vrtra could run two meetings at once and not miss anything , Estinien thought with a bitter twist of his mouth. He couldn’t imagine what Aymeric would do with such an ability.
Probably work twice as hard, rather than be done twice as fast, his mind supplied, and he sighed. The two of them really were too similar.
Maybe Vrtra’s schedule would free up by dinner, Estinien thought idly, stopping to frown over a length of cloth, the color reminding him of Vrtra’s warmer toned feathers. Just like old times. Well, before all this void nonsense, at least.
He turned from the stall and like a ghost, Vrtra was there. No, damn it, Varshahn. New Varshahn, Estinien reminded himself, as best as he was able, blinking up at him in shock. It was strange to have to tilt his chin up to him– even though he had to with Vrtra’s real body. It still felt wrong.
“I thought this thing was in for repairs?” he asked, his voice more careless than he felt, reaching out to pinch the fabric of Vrtra’s sleeve like it was yet another one of the fabrics in the market. Even before he noticed him, Vrtra had been gazing at him with those huge red eyes, and his gaze flicked down to Estinien’s hand on his arm before returning to his face. Estinien swallowed. He had no idea what the alchemists had been playing at when they made this vessel so… so..
Before he could find the words for it, Vrtra’s hand came up to touch his wrist, fingertips skimming the backs of knuckles and then folding awkwardly around his own hand. Vrtra was looking at him with that solemn expression he seemed to have perfected as Varshahn. Estinien wanted to look around, to see if people were watching them, if maybe the rest of Vrtra’s people were as affected by the strange powers of this new vessel as he was, but he couldn’t wrench his own eyes away.
Vrtra’s hand shifted on his, pulling it from his arm, and raising Estinien’s hand to his face. For one horrible, wonderful moment Estinien thought he might kiss it, but he just held it there. Then he opened his mouth and said something, but whatever he said was quiet and lost in the noise of the crowds.
“What?” Estinien said, his own gruff voice breaking whatever spell had been over the two of them. Vrtra smiled at him and took a step backward, tugging Estinien along with him.
Estinien had been privy to the incredible strength of the vessel while they were in the void, but Vrtra’s grasp on his hand was feather light, and he knew that if he wished it wouldn’t be difficult to pull away. Still… hadn’t he been waiting for this? For Vrtra’s schedule to clear, for him to call?
Estinien frowned at the embarrassing revelation, but let Vrtra lead him through the crowd and to the nearby stairway. Vrtra walked like he knew the way even with his eyes closed (which he probably did) and instead kept his gaze on Estinien, that soft little smile on his face.
Dragons couldn’t smile in the conventional sense (although Estinien had learned many of Vrtra’s little tells already) so it seemed strange that the smile suited the vessel so. Surely it was just something else that Vrtra had learned, like how to buckle shoes or tie laces, or how to walk on two feet. And yet he did it so well, so unselfconsciously, lips curved up like he had a secret or had just tasted something delicious. Estinien didn’t understand it.
At the foot of the stairs Vrtra paused, and said something else to him. Estinien caught ‘You’re here,” and “Follow, please,” but in between was a rush of hissing syllables he couldn’t parse. In fact, he realized after a moment, it sounded like dragonspeak, or like the kind of approximation a mortal-shaped puppet would attempt at dragonspeak. Which was odd. He’d never heard Vrtra speak the tongue, the creature instead preferring to communicate with his people in their own language.
“What was that?” he asked him, and Vrtra shook his head with an expression on his face as though he was studying him fondly. He still held Estinien’s hand, but his other hand came up to the side of Estinien’s face, knuckles brushing the side of his jaw. Estinien felt the touch shoot through him like a bolt of lightning, and his flinch must have startled Vrtra, who lowered his hand, the smile slipping from his face.
He said something else again, and this time Estinien clocked it as definitely dragonspeak, still slurred because of the inconsistencies of dragon and mortal tooth and tongue. He caught a few words, but not enough to understand it, not even with the fragments of Nidhogg’s knowledge that lingered in the back of his mind.
Vrtra was still holding his hand.
He had, at times, strange mannerisms, born of being used to different bodies, or of using two at the same time. But this was beyond anything of the sort, and Estinien felt his confusion turn to a sour sort of worry. There were illnesses that addled the mind and took language from the sufferer, and he’d seen men with head injuries that had similar effects. What had happened to Vrtra? Why was he acting this way?
He supposed it could be a problem with the vessel. Vrtra’s eye was inside it, alright– he could feel it pulse in rhythm with his own heartbeat and with the noise of the city. But maybe in their haste to finish the updated body, the alchemists had overlooked something that interfered with the connection, or overtaxed his aether, or any number of weird problems that could cause Vrtra’s vessel to act like a drunkard. It was an easier idea to swallow than that Vrtra might be suffering elsewhere at this very moment. Still…
“Can you… take me to where you are right now?” Estinien asked. It felt like a foolish question to ask someone standing right in front of you, but Vrtra nodded and squeezed his hand.
“Follow me?” he repeated, eyes wide and pleading in a way that made Estinien feel like maybe he was the one suffering some mysterious ailment. Even if he’d been asking Estinien to set the both of them on fire, he’d have considered it, if accompanied by an expression like that.
“Right then. Lead the way,” he said, his words feeling entirely insufficient for the strange emotion that roiled in his chest.
He was utterly unprepared for the vessel’s face to light up with another smile, one that squeezed the vibrant red eyes into merry crescents and seemed entirely too natural to be just a practiced puppet show. He felt another tug on his hand, and then Vrtra was leading him through the city.
The path they took led toward the Meghaduta. Estinien felt a rush of relief at this. It meant Vrtra wasn’t out there in the jungle sick or hurting, and that if there was something wrong, there were all sorts of experts and alchemists and doctors or whatever just seconds away. He was so focused on these thoughts, formulating battle plans for what came next, that it wasn’t until they were approaching the doors that he realized they were still holding hands.
There was no time to rectify the situation. Vrtra pulled him towards the doors with what seemed like zero reservation, and the two guards posted outside turned their attention toward them. The one on Estinien’s side of the door’s eyes dropped to their joined hands, and then flicked towards his partner, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Estinien fought the urge to curse and cover his face, and instead averted his gaze as they opened the doors for them both. Past the entry hall was another set of double doors, and Vrtra pushed one open with his free hand. And beyond them…
Estinien let out a hiss of relief through his teeth.
Vrtra’s bulk was piled on the dais at the end of the room, curled in on himself like a cat. Even from this end of the hall Estinien could hear him breathing, deep and slow. Almost… snores.
The vessel pulled him a few more steps forward as he understood.
“Are you… sleepwalking?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Vrtra didn’t answer him, and the two approached the sleeping dragon. The vessel dropped his hand, and Estinien instead placed it on Vrtra’s scaly cheek. The dragon’s head lay by his side, neck and tail curled around himself in a loose circle. Estinien could feel his breaths now, and this close he could see what he already suspected– Vrtra looked exhausted. He’d been right. Vrtra was overworking himself because he felt guilty for being away from his city and his people, brief though their time in the void had been. Estinien clicked his tongue, his hand running along Vrtra’s cheek and to the thick whiskers at his jaw. Vrtra snuffled at the touch, but didn’t wake.
Had he meant to send his vessel for Estinien? Maybe he’d been part way there and fallen asleep before he managed. Or maybe that hadn’t been the plan at all; maybe his next appointment had been testing the new vessel’s most recent fixes with his eye within, and he’d drifted away midway through, and his vessel had wandered before crossing paths with him…
It was always warm in Radz-at-Han, and Vrtra radiated his own warmth, but that didn’t explain the way Estinien’s face felt suddenly so flushed. He traced one of Vrtra’s whiskers again. Had Vrtra missed him the same way he had?
At his periphery the vessel moved, and Estinien turned his head, distracted. The vessel was carrying a rug, and as he watched it draped it on the floor between Vrtra’s snout and side. It added several embroidered pillows as Estinien watched, baffled. Then the vessel turned to him.
“Stay with me?” the soft voice asked, with that same devastating pleading expression. Even if he had wanted to, Estinien couldn’t refuse.
Heart in his mouth, Estinien clambered across Vrtra’s claws as gently as he could, trying not to wake him, and lay down on the pile of rugs and pillows. It was warm here, tucked against Vrtra’s side, and he could feel him breathe, his scaled side pressing against Estinien’s back for several seconds before retreating, back and forth like a wave on a beach. The movement captivated him, and he held his own breath as he focused on it, his gaze on the intricate patterns on the floor tiles beyond.
It was because of this that he didn’t notice the vessel step forward to join him. All he knew was that suddenly his vision was obscured by brilliant blue, and the cushions dipped forward as the vessel settled just in front of him, wrapping an arm around his waist and drawing him close. If having Vrtra behind him was overwhelming before, this was torturous in a way Estinien didn’t have words for. The slow movement of Vrtra’s side pressed him into the vessel’s chest, which had tucked him against its shoulder with such heartbreaking gentleness. He supposed he should count himself lucky he couldn’t see what face it was making right now.
He heard a deep sigh of relief, tension seeping from the vessel cuddled against him, and even Vrtra’s real body shifted as if granted some reprieve. He could hear feathers brush against the floor, and a sort of rumbling satisfied groan from behind him.
Estinien felt fondness well in his chest, and settled himself down between Vrtra’s two forms. As embarrassing as it was, if it helped Vrtra rest, he would stay. If the coming months were half as busy as this one, he was likely to need it.
He was mostly asleep when he felt the vessel stir again, the hand at his waist shifting to stroke his hair before returning to its prior position. Again he heard the rumble of dragonspeak, and though he was too tired to know for sure which one spoke, he understood. The sentence was short, and it was impossible to miss his name. “My Estinien,” Vrtra mumbled, so fondly that Estinien squeezed his eyes shut rather than face it. But here, sleeping by his side, wrapped up in him twice over, he couldn’t think of any argument against it.
“Shhhh,” he replied instead, his face buried in the vessel’s shoulder, “Rest now.” He reached out, reached past the vessel to stroke Vrtra’s scaled nose, just within reach. Despite everything, this seemed to soothe him, and Vrtra finally fell quiet, still and peaceful at last.