Foeslayer

I've always liked Clearsight. Honestly, I was just glad Darkstalker didn't continue the family tradition and run off with some dragon he barely knew at seven years old, find out they were having two dragonets three months later, then get married in a hurry. Not speaking from personal experience or anything.

I remember, the first few dates they went on, I'd stay up waiting in the living room, for him to come home, giddy and starstruck, doing his little happy dance. He told me about how she'd given him flowers, and he'd bought her some scroll she really liked, and then they'd wandered through the street together until he dropped her off back home, and that was usually about all he was willing to share with me, which suited the both of us just fine. (Values education, I remember thinking. That's good.)

And I remember, he told me, a few days before he proposed. Mentioned it in a passing comment when I came by their new house for dinner, while Clearsight was busy grabbing some scroll she thought I'd like from her office. Like yep, just a regular Tuesday, might marry my very lovely, responsible, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly-girlfriend who also coincidentally brings in a steady income.

I remember everything.

I gave those dragonets all that I had. Whenever him and Clearsight were busy with work, or needed a night off, I was there in an instant. Anything, to give them a better life. It was nice, to be part of a family again. A real, proper family--without quite so much hatred running through the walls.

She was good for Darkstalker, and he was good for her. She made him soft, and sweet, and kind, like he hadn't been for a very long time. And he made her laugh--he made her smile from ear to ear, showered her in magic, rearranged the whole world, just for her liking. She was lucky--she is lucky.

Sometimes, I thought, it was like looking at Artic and I through a warped mirror. An alternate version, of what could have been in another life.

And he is gone, he is gone, he is gone. They're both gone.

My son might never come back from that war.

I look away, setting down my spear and taking a deep breath. Clearsight frowns. "Are you alright?" She rests a talon on my back.

"Yeah. I, um... I'm fine. Just give me a moment to catch my breath. Old shoulder injury, you know how it is..." That's technically true--I do have an old shoulder injury, for a while it was so bad, I could hardly walk. Now, it's bearable, but it just hurts a lot, and I have to take lots of breaks so it doesn't act up. Also, so my wing doesn't act up. Or my right talon. Or my back. After a decade of being on the battlefield, I've really seen better days.

Darkstalker made me something for it as a gift a few years back. I didn't want anything permanent, that creeped me out too much, but I was willing to agree to something temporary--an enchanted goblet. I just fill it up with water, every time I'm having trouble managing it, and the pain quickly fades. It's far more effective than whatever pain medicine I can get my talons on these days, and far less expensive.

"Oh." Clearsight frowns. "We can do this some other time, you know? If you want. There's no rush."

"No, no, it's fine, just give me a minute," I say quickly, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "Okay, where were we?"

"You were talking about fighting stance?"

"Oh. Right. Okay, so, the way I learned it, you wanna be at a 45 degree angle to your enemy, and you're slashing the knife too wide. You're, um... you're too indecisive about it. It's kill or be killed, right? So you have move smoothly, and don't show any doubt. Every time we fight, it's like you hesitate--I can see you thinking. In the real world, just pausing for a second might get you killed."

"Right. Right." Clearsight frowns. "Okay, so--stay within the imaginary box, forty-five degrees, more decisive. Gotcha."

"It'll take practise. It's just... like learning how to fly, if you think about it. Everyone sucks at first."

Clearsight laughs, seeming to relax a little. "Yeah. I guess. That does make me feel a bit better."

"And it's not gonna accidentally stab you--I let you start using a real knife, not a blunted one for a reason. It's your weapon, you're in control of it, not the other way around, so stop looking at it like it's gonna kill you."

She lets out a breath. "Right. Yeah. Trying. When I was super little, I accidentally cut my talon on a kitchen knife my dad left out, and I thought I was gonna die, I guess I accidentally hit a pretty big artery? Never been the same."

I chuckle. "Well, we're gonna work on that, because it's no way to go into... hypothetical combat. Okay?"

"Okay." Clearsight stretches out her wings

"You ready to go again?"

"Yep. Let's do this." I can tell she's trying, but she's spending so much mental energy remembering the forms I taught her, it's like she's barely noticing what's going on around her.

But over the months, she gets better. She learns how to block an incoming strike, how to knock someone off their balance, and treat a knife like an extension of herself, rather than a hot potato she can't wait to drop to the ground. I can see her getting stronger--not just mentally, but physically too. I guess sitting at a desk and mapping out the futures probably wasn't the best for building muscle--the idea of just being paid to sit there and think is absolutely insane to me. We practise almost every night, while the dragonets are gone at friends' houses or DFC meetings. (Or Shadowhunter and her friend, Brightmind, watch with wide eyes, cheering Clearsight on, which is always amusing.)

I still beat her a good nine times out of ten--but I've had almost an entire life of practise, and she's only had a month, I shouldn't be surprised.

"I had the worst day at work," she admits with a sigh, her breath turning to steam in the cold winter air. "Allknowing dumped this stupid coffee I spent half an hour making her on her carpet, and then made me clean it up. Have you ever tried to clean coffee up off white carpet?" She sighs, exasperated. "I tried vinegar, and soap, and, like, medical-grade alcohol, and there's still a stain."

"Oh, we used to have white furniture everywhere, I have experience scrubbing stains out of white carpet. And sheets. And tablecloths. I was trying to make Arctic think of the Ice Kingdom, but I don't think he ever noticed. Ever tried keeping white carpet clean when you have two young dragonets? I do not recommend it. Anyway, baking soda and vinegar. Works like a charm."

"Really?" Her eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh, why didn't I think of that? I'll have to try it out tomorrow. Thank you!"

I shrug. "No problem. I, um, I had a few odd jobs before I enlisted in the army--once I helped ship out packages to the Sand Kingdom for a couple years. It was actually really fun, and everyone was so impressed when I lifted all the heaviest boxes on my own--it was awesome."

"Whoah, really? Darkstalker never told me that," she says, tilting her head.

"Oh, really? I wonder if he even remembers. The first year or so, I tried to stick around with him and Whiteout. But then the war started to escalate--and I had to do something about it. Because otherwise, I knew they were going to grow up and pay the price. It's responsibility." I sigh. "And here we are."

"You thought you could stop the entire war on your own?"

"I thought I could do a lot of things, back then," I admit. "I was young."

Clearsight laughs. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"If I could take his place," I whisper, voice a little thick. "I'd do it, any day. If I could be out there, risking my scales--I'd do it. I'd give up my life for his. Any day."

"Darkstalker is really lucky to have you as a mom," Clearsight says, smiling and meeting my eyes. "And I'm, like--so unbelievably grateful for all the help you've given me around the house, and stuff. My parents, um... they're not in the picture, so there's not exactly an abundance of grandparent figures."

I shrug. "No worries. They're good kids--and it's nice, to have something to do." I hesitate. "What happened to your parents?"

"They... kind of disowned me," Clearsight admits, wincing. "Not dead, don't worry--they are the least likely dragons to be found disobeying the crown. That's kind of the problem. They've been kind of terrible ever since things with Darkstalker got serious, but it's just only got worse as time's gone on. And--it's not just that. We have... different opinions about politics."

I throw my wing over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. That's the worst. I haven't spoken to my mother in years, and I never really met my dad--so I know what you mean."

"Thanks." She leans into my shoulder. "I, um... I honestly don't think I've felt this alone in a really long time. Ever since we were in school, Darkstalker and I have always had each other. We'd come home together--he made the shopping lists, and I bought the groceries. He did the cooking, I cleaned up. He read stories to the kids, I made sure homework got done--and whenever I was sad, or scared, he'd be there. He always held me in his wings--and even when the bombings were really loud, or the world was totally falling apart outside... he made it better. Sorry, is that too much information? I can stop, this is probably really weird for you."

I laugh. "Kind of. But it's fine."

"He writes me these letters, every single day--I wake up each morning, and there they are. And I always get my reply in by night for him. Sometimes, we can write super-fast back and forth on the same piece of paper, if we catch each other at the right time--there's a magic box he made, it's a whole thing. But it's not the same. And I hate myself for being this messed up over it, when there are so many worse things in the world. I hate myself for not knowing how to handle without him. It's like--no matter how hard I try, it'll never be enough."

Oh, poor thing.

She reminds me so much of myself, when I was her age.

I stroke her back. I let her cry into my shoulder, for as long as she needs to. And when she's done, I look her in the eyes. "You're doing great, okay? You're gonna be okay. And I'm proud of you."

"Really?" She smiles a little, a sob shaking her shoulders. I can tell she hasn't been told that in a very long time.

"Yeah. I mean it."

"Thank you," she says, wiping the tears off her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "You have no idea--um—how much that means to me."

"You know what might make you feel better?" I raise my eyebrows at her. "Practising your flight manoeuvres."

Clearsight groans. "Ugh, no, not again..."

"You don't know how to fight—"

"Unless you can do it in the air!" She finishes, shoving me playfully. "I know! Ugh, all right, fine. But if I end up breaking my spine, that's on you."

"That's not a thing."

"Totally is." She rolls her eyes. "My nervous system would be all messed up, and I'd never fly again because of you."

I laugh, knowing full well that's not going to happen as I shout commands at her from the ground. It'd be far easier if I were up there to demonstrate, but this does work in a pinch.

She'll learn. She's tough as nails, this one--inside and out. She'll do just fine without me.

***

Anyway Clearsight and Foeslayer being friends really does hit different. Like, Foeslayer had absolutely no support when she was in a similar position to Clearsight from her parents or Arctic's, and she just wants Darkstalker's whole family to never feel that way. Like, she really held them together during the war. She just wanted them to be happy at all costs, even her life, and oh my god I'm not crying you are--