Eirwen

The delicate dragoness drifts on the wind as much as she could be said to be flying – her wings thin and membranous, seemingly barely able to support even her slender, near weightless body without the use of powerful magical energies.
She is but a fledgling, eyes too big for her head and crests not yet fully developed, offering a narrower range in expression than the adults.
But there are no adults. She was born alone, far from her species' preferred forest home, in the sands beside a tidal pool. She can breathe both in the air and in the water, and her spindly limbs and tail (most often wrapped round her waist) are ideal not for holding tools but simply pointing, directing magic, giving orders.
She is royalty, this she feels. Meant to rule over this terrain.
And yet, would such a thing not be heresy? To have the Sea for her own, when it belongs to the Tidelord... but the waters of the tidal pools part and move at her command, and she has dug herself a little nest which might remain submerged forever, safe from enemies.
She has given herself no name; does she need one? White as the radiant moonlight, with wings of the muted yet unwavering blue of cold water, awash with her elemental magic. She has met no other dragons like herself yet, and has joined no clan. She... intends to start one. Here, in the flats. Where the food is plenty and the connection to land is not yet lost.

One night, a night that seemed like any other but for the thunder clouds creeping in from the east, disaster strikes. She sits floating delicately atop the water like a pond lily (though, those leaves are attached to the bottom somehow, right? she's no plant expert) to eat her evening meal of dragonflies when the ground – and the water – begins to shake and slosh about beneath her.
She turns her wide eyes out to the Sea of a thousand currents and sees it: a rising wall of water, growing higher still as it advances through the shallows, onto the shore, carries on--
At first she shoots upward, then she realizes she could not possibly keep up and burrows downward instead, deep into the soft terrain, summoning up a protective bubble of water to shield her from the monster wave.
It breaks and bears down, paying no heed to her protective measures and washing her out with it, and the last thing she recalls is the taste of gravel in her mouth as her head hits the ground.

When she comes to, she is stretched out not in the shoals nor in the middle of the ocean, but on some unknown surface. Sort of... scaly, she thinks, and – as she opens her eyes and sits up, digs her little claws in to gain some purchase, she realizes it's something living. A long, spiny back, with enormous wings on either side: she drifts upward to look down, only to find the other now definitely knows she's awake and has turned a massive head around to look up at her.
Thickset, with long horns, fins, a heavy jaw (the head alone is bigger than her whole body – is this really a dragon?) with the beginnings of some hair sprouting oddly from the underside... and looking up at her with an odd expression. She flaps her crests to signal a demand for answers, but he doesn't seem to understand.
And, as she remembers what has led her to end up here, she slowly drafts back down to land on the giant dragon's shoulder.
"Aren't you a lively one?" he asks (or... doesn't ask? Is it rhetorical?), then in a less nonsensical sort of tone (she... thinks, it sounds deeper at the least, a rumbling voice) adds, "I found you here after last night's wave, and couldn't help but-- help out, you see."
By now, she certainly is feeling quite lively and like she never needed this help in the first place. She was hardly going to drown – and she steps forward, down along his neck until she sits lightly on his nose, folding her wings into herself.
Her voice is entirely flat as she replies: "You have my gratitude, but why would you do such a thing? I can swim perfectly well, you know. I am a Water dragon."
The gesture which accompanied this would almost seem to imply that what she meant is she is the water dragon. "You can leave now."
But of course, the giant here is bluer than she is, marked in colours that might allow him to stalk the seafloor and not only the little pools, finned and of course (as she turns to look into one massive eye) sporting that same pure blue eye colour as herself. He does not seem quite so magically charged, but his sheer muscle mass might make up for some of that lack.
She climbs back up to sit on a horn, and he shakes his head.
"Well, see... it's not so simple as that. Have you heard of the Guardian's Search?"
"The-- the who?"
"The... oh, well, I am a Guardian dragon, for starters. My name is Ardan--"
"So, you guard things. I-- well..." and she realizes then that she has no idea what she even is.
"You are a Fae dragon. I have encountered your kind in colonies during my travels. But we Guardians--"
"You know others?" Her tone is unchanging still, but she sits up straight, crests pointed upward, ears at attention. "What do they do? I mean, I have never seen anyone else, I thought I might--"
"Be the only one? Oh, far from it. You Fae lead such sociable lives. I am... not sure I have ever talked this much to a stranger." Ardan turned away – or might have, had the Fae not been perched on his head, making this futile.
"So you saw something special in me, or what?"
"Yes, actually." Ardan did not respond as he should have to all of these crest gestures, couldn't exactly see her from where she sat, but that would not stop her from making all of these expressions at him. "It seems you are the Charge, the one I was fated to meet and protect to the very best of my capacities. I left my clan to find you... essentially."
"Well, you sure know how to arrive just in time. Any later than that, and who knows what might have become of me?"
"I thought you said you were fine."
"Shush."
As though she wasn't the one who would not stop talking.

As the sun and moon alike passed by overhead many times, the two dragons grew up together. Ardan gave the young Fae her name: Eirwen, fair as the snow. What is snow, Eirwen asked, and Ardan told her it was something he had only heard about, that they might see later in the season (it really is getting colder) but it is present all year round in the Southern Icefield.
No, they can't visit it. They must take care of things in the place where they were born first.
As time passes, Ardan almost doubles in size (how?) and Eirwen only grows into her features a bit, gains a particular dexterity that leads her first to mischief and then into creating art of a sort – aside from arranging items into the shape of larger pictures, she can be found often gathering pebbles and organizing them into different piles depending on particular qualities they have. These are round but rough, these are smooth but not round, these (her prized pile) are smooth and round.
Eventually her enthusiasm for anything but starting a clan begins to run out.
And so they do – the odd pair they are, with a full nest of eggs that Ardan ends up tending to as Eirwen is far too small and hyperactive to sit still so long. The food she catches to bring him (though he can easily find his own during the day when it is safe to leave the eggs in the shallow pool, in the sunlight) is unsatisfying but more than edible.
She still goes through the motions, piling up pebbles and gathering enough food and flitting about in all manner of odd flight patterns, following the sea breezes – Seabound in the morning, toward the land in the evening – as though inspired by something divine.
To be perfectly honest... she sees nothing at all.
And it is out of line with the tales Ardan tells her: the water dragons are deep, mysterious oracles, after the fashion of the Tidelord himself. If she wishes to emulate their god, then certainly she must speak more cryptically, distantly, and be capable of predicting the future. In hindsight, of course, she even foresaw that great tidal wave hitting--
"Then why did you not move to higher ground earlier in the evening, and avoid it?" Ardan asks as she makes this ludicrous claim.
"Because I foresaw that it would bring me to you," she replies, and there is no arguing with something so endearing. Her crests fold back, a satisfied expression.
And then she would curl up and fall asleep on her guardian's back without another word.
Ardan remains more genuine, more honest – and as he grows, he becomes involved in more combat for the territory and grows tough as well. Not so playful... but then, neither of them are. They are serious.
When the eggs hatch at last, there are hatchlings of both their species... born with full sets of their respective teeth, a clumsy ability to walk but not fly too well, deep blue eyes and clear signs of powerful water magic.
And, in the night, as Ardan slumbers, Eirwen sends all but one off on their own to meet the Tidelord. They know the way, they must – she leads them as far as where the shore falls away into deep water, tells them this is a great honour, and then abandons them to swim down.
Ardan responds to this as though she has exiled them and left them to die, but she tells him to have more faith. The Tidelord is mighty, and he would see them to his keep safely if they are loyal to him. And what greater honour than that of serving one's deity?
Ardan becomes fiercely protective – quietly, without a word about it as he will be dismissed for sure, but protective nonetheless – of their remaining child. But Darra (in her platinum and blue, like a livelier version of her mother) seems in no danger of being sacrificed. No, Eirwen teaches the hatchling her ways, the stories with Ardan interrupts only to add a detail overlooked or twisted oddly in the matriarch's favour, or just plain misremembered... and the youngster (in a lack of competition, Ardan thinks, though Eirwen claims there was a sign all along that Darra was the one who belonged here, to help make the clan great) is somehow incredibly inspired (another blessing, of course!) and becomes quite the singer and dancer.
This artistry, and Eirwen's eccentric reputation that begins to spread somehow – Ardan agrees with anyone laughing but cautiously, and changes his mind easily if this seems a bit too rudely mocking – draws more dragons to their clan.
Eirwen calls it a clan, at the least. But on all accounts, looking at these members (a Guardian mother disgraced; halfway sophisticated Mirrors who unnerve the others around them; a shady, masked Fae who supports the Beastclans over his own kind and eventually leaves to join them instead; a Pearlcatcher who refuses to gossip and another who gossips only about things yet to happen or which make no sense whatsoever; a Coatl aligned with Plague of all flights, whose skills are supposed to be useful; several sleepless Nocturnes, one of whom is almost unnaturally beautiful; an odd pair of shining dragons that do not stay too long; an old crystalline Coatl of somewhere else in the sea who refuses to disclose any details of his past, which has nonetheless left his hide marked with chips and scars...) it seems more a hiding place for the lost and unwanted.
Tidewatch Haven, that is the unofficial name they give themselves – and the official name of the cave they later build, as there comes to be too little room in their prior hiding place.
.
.
.
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A mighty (if tiny) dragoness of refined tastes, the young matriarch of a clan which is mostly banded together from wanderers and rejects. Her past remains a mystery as she does not speak openly of it, but she has settled into her new home quite well. Her pride prevents her from asking other clans for advice, but she has a habit of watching older clans in the region and trying to behave more like them. She hopes to become more like the other water dragons she has met, but thus far, though her magical capabilities have grown to incredible levels, she has not seen any prophecies. This worries her somewhat, but she can be patient.

She leaves most of the work to larger dragons, as she can't do much herself, and serves as the wise leader and mother figure to the rest. She carries herself with a regal dignity, and though she is small, her clan recognizes her as the leader and even newcomers show a great deal of deference to her, and fear her wrath. Her nurturing nature is known only to the hatchlings and the wounded, whom she is not in charge of caring for but will visit and assist often. Even her mate, a kind Guardian sworn to protect her, will say she tends to be cold. It is unknown whether this is an issue of miscommunication or truly part of her personality; some call her flighty while she sees herself as consistent and reasonable. But it cannot be denied that she wants the best for her clan.

For better or for worse, perhaps.

Her true flaw is in her sense of entitlement: she wishes to be recognized and rewarded personally by the Tidelord, rather than humbly serving beneath him all her life. Some day she hopes to find him and speak directly to him. For now she's content (if occasionally restless and anxious) with day-to-day life, but some day this could get her in trouble... or to even greater heights. It's a risk she looks forward to taking.



Title: Matriarch
Mated for life to Ardan.


art by Zangoose


design/art by roserayne