CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of genocide, self-destructive ideation

Vesi did not belong in the kitchen, but being there gave her time to think, and she was a dragon with a lot to think about.

Like the bill.

Like the lives that were no doubt in danger.

Like the citizens down in their homes.

She remembered the congregation of dragons below her as she spoke, the mixed feelings painted across their faces as her mouth formed the terrible words.

“All hybrids found within the kingdom are to be reported to authorities immediately and executed.”

Terror, outrage, shock, grief, utter dismay, horror.

Someone had thrown a rock at her (understandably), and had to be dragged away by Condor’s soldiers while he checked her over. Only when he was certain that no further violence would occur did he agree to leave her side, offhandedly telling her to keep an eye out until he could come back to check on her “after a while.”

She hadn’t seen Condor at all today. The general consensus around the rest of the court and palace staff was that he was almost certainly out looking for unlucky hybrids to slaughter. Her mind swirled with thoughts about it. Had he found any yet? Did they fight? Was he quick? Merciful? Did he let them go, or did he follow orders and kill them? It was hard to imagine Condor – with those stoic but never unkind eyes set in that face of washed-out orange scales – actually killing anyone. Especially not an innocent dragon whose only crime was being a mix of two or more tribes. As shockingly blue as his gaze was, it was the gaze of a strategic protector rather than a brutal hunter. In all the years she’d known him, there was nothing to really be afraid of behind that intimidating exterior.

Adjusting the turnip she was cutting for the stew she was helping Bayou make, Vesi tried very hard to convince herself that it would be okay. What did the lives of dragons she didn’t even know matter to her? It wasn’t like the Queen was ordering the death of one of her loved ones. Besides, it wasn’t her fault that this slaughter was beginning. She was just the messenger, after all. It really wasn’t her responsibility.

So why do I feel like it is?

Empathy. That was why. The good part of Vesi, the tender part that ached when she saw little dragonets crying over scraped knees, the part that glowed when she saw strangers on the street having a happy moment. That part screamed at her that it was wrong to turn a blind eye to this new horror. That part told her that it didn’t matter if she knew any hybrids or not. That part insisted she have the basic decency to care.

And that part was right.

Vesi might have been cold, logical, and keen, but she was also a dragon just like anyone else, and she had that tiny flame inside her that instructed her to be kind. “You’d hope others would do the same for you,” it whispered. “You know that goodness and rightness is so much bigger than just your little bubble.”

Even if she didn’t know what to do, Vesi couldn’t be so selfish, so willfully ignorant. That wasn’t who she was.

“You’re even more quiet than usual.”

The IceWing’s head snapped to sudden attentiveness as Bayou spoke to her for the first time in fifteen minutes. He lumbered over to her side, peering at the turnip, then nodding approvingly at it and handing her another.

“… Am I?” she asked very uncertainly, though her typical frosted tone hid the worst of her inner turmoil. The last thing she wanted to do was give anyone a reason to worry about her. People depended on her.

“You haven’t said a word since you came into the kitchen,” Bayou pointed out while Vesi began to slice into the next turnip. “Just waltzed in and asked if you could help, then parked your tail and started cutting vegetables in complete silence.”

“Well, there’s not much to say about cutting turnips, and you told me what to do.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You usually make at least some polite conversation. Something’s off.”

Vesi sighed. He was onto her. Damn it. “I’m just thinking, that’s all. I do that a lot.”

Another turnip finished, and another being sacrificed to the inevitable blade of her knife. Vesi wondered if there was a metaphor somewhere in there. Something about the hybrids.

They’re in everything, aren’t they? This is my punishment.

Maybe she deserved to be harmed for her complacency to such an awful, awful thing.

“Thinking,” Bayou rumbled in reply, turning to return to his station. “You’re always thinking, aren’t you, Vesi?”

“It’s an important part of my job.”

“… Have you ever considered thinking out loud?”

Vesi nearly lost her turnip, so startled by Bayou’s calm suggestion. Think out loud? She couldn’t possibly do that. She did all her thinking precisely so that what came out was always what she meant. It was to keep her words clean, the meaning clear as glacial waters. Thinking out loud was a great way to give someone the wrong idea, to incriminate herself by accident or completely confuse someone. “Why would I ever do that?” she asked, her signature calm veneer rising into one of carefully subdued incredulity. “I think in my head. That’s what a head is for.”

“Well, suit yourself, but I can tell something’s troubling you,” Bayou replied, his tone uncharacteristically earnest compared to his usual prideful timbre. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably the same thing troubling me.”

Play it cool, Vesi. People shouldn’t have to worry about you. Be strong for them.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re troubled, Bayou,” the IceWing replied as professionally as possible. Vesi had long since developed a knack for impersonal, corporate-sounding responses thanks to her job as the ambassador. A mouthpiece wasn’t supposed to sympathize publicly.

Next to her, Bayou sighed heavily. “Don’t change the subject on me here,” he spoke firmly but not unkindly, “You need someone to talk to, one way or the other.”

Silence. Vesi tried not to look like she might break down and cry, because she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Then, with a soft talon on her shoulder, she heard “It’s okay to talk about the bill. We’re all scared, but we have to trust each other.”

“… Is that a MudWing thing?”

Bayou snorted. “No. Just common sense.”

Vesi may have cried into the turnips. Maybe. Just a little.

---

It made Vesi smile just a little when Bayou brought her to take some stew to Marmoset and Lightningbug, who had both been unwell that day. Seeing their faces light up was rewarding, and so was hearing Bayou brag about his prowess and leadership in the kitchen. If he were less prideful, she could see him being a good alternative to the Queen. Gruff and brash, but just as caring and thoughtful.

The best part, however, was getting to see Angel Trumpet’s face. He looked exhausted, but that was fine by her. So was she. Just hearing him thank her and Bayou was enough, with quiet gratitude in his rosy eyes. Vesi could’ve watched him work all day, telling Lightningbug not to eat too fast or she’d make herself even more sick. Straightforward and focused as he was, he was also kind. That was why he’d become a doctor. Though he was intelligent and clinical, he was also attentive and selfless, and he wanted to make a difference in the world.

The palace really couldn’t have been more lucky to have him.

She sat next to him as Marmoset savored their stew, moving gingerly on bruised ribs as they nourished themself. Bayou had returned to the kitchen, and Vesi had agreed to catch up with him later. For now, she needed to be here. For her own sanity.

“How did the delivery go?” Angel Trumpet asked softly, keeping his voice down as though that would stop the other two dragons in the infirmary from hearing him (it did not). “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk, but I figured I should ask.”

“… Not well,” Vesi conceded after a moment of trying to find the right words, which always seemed to evade her a little more when she was talking to him. “The public was upset, understandably. I think we narrowly avoided a riot.”

A warm white wing wrapped gently around her back. “I’m glad it didn’t happen. I’m sorry that you take so much fire for something that isn’t your fault.”

“You don’t deserve it,” Lightningbug piped up from her meal. “You’re literally one of the most noble and reasonable dragons I know.”

Vesi only shrugged. “The Queen hides behind all her subordinates like we’re a barricade. There’s not much we can do about it. Besides, anger is a reasonable reaction to this.”

The HiveWing inventor frowned at her, mouth quirking downwards while her brow furrowed. “Doesn’t make it okay, you know.”

“It’s part of the job. Living in this kingdom – especially when you work under her – means cruelty no matter what we try. I would rather take the brunt of it so the rest of you don’t get even more hurt. Zero on her own is bad enough.”

Angel Trumpet nodded. “Thank you, then, for keeping us safe.”

Vesi went to say he was very welcome and rest her tail on top of his, but-

“How much longer do we think she has left?”

Angel Trumpet seemed to flinch at Lightningbug’s question, tail swishing across the floor in the opposite direction as he spoke with a frown furrowing across his snout. “I don’t know. It depends on how long her body is able to hold on. Could be days, could be years.”

Marmoset, who had been watching the conversation at hand, wrinkled their brow in what might’ve been worry, but said nothing.

“I hope it’s days,” Lightningbug decided. No one else showed any sign of agreement, but the part of Vesi that desperately wanted to stop the tyranny despite being forced to keep quiet whispered in her head:

Me too.