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Fortunately, or unfortunately, when you walk into the Rising Stones with a giant egg strapped over your back, you find not just Tataru and the odd minion toiling for her, but almost everyone else. Fortunately because Alphinaud is here, which will make any explanations much easier. Unfortunately, because it means you won’t get away without an explanation.
And there you thought that with the place mostly deserted, you could claim one of the beds, wrap the both of you in a bunch of blankets, and not move for a few days.
Just in case, you try to walk by like nothing is off and enter the Respite.
“And where do you think you’re going with that thing?”
Tataru. Of course.
You turn to her and raise your eyebrows, frozen like a gaelicat hit by a Holy, which she’ll hopefully take as a sign of surprise rather than guilt.
“I have a business to run here, you know,” she says, jumping from her chair to walk up to you. “You can’t just drag in whatever weird things you find.”
“An egg?” Alisaie’s voice asks from behind you. When did she move? She was at the table with the others just a second ago. Whoever taught her that backflipping was an essential part of red magic, you’d like a word with them.
Or a stern glare, as it were.
“By the gods, it’s huge,” Tataru gasps as she flits behind you too to get a better look. You hadn’t considered it that big, but it must be about her size.
“Where did you find it?” Alisaie asks. “I can’t remember seeing any eggs this size since…”
“The Dragonstar,” Y’shtola says calmly but with a firmness that foretells imminent glory or doom, depending on which side you stand. “Where did you find a dragon egg?”
You look away.
“Let’s all calm down,” Alphinaud says, coming to your rescue. “I’m sure there’s a reason for all of this. Did one of the Dravanian dragons entrust their egg to you?”
You shake your head. How do you even explain something like this?
You look away again, fighting the urge to run away with your egg, then finally gesture at yourself, remove it from its straps, and hold it against your chest protectively.
“… you’re not making any sense,” Alisaie sighs.
Alphinaud looks at you for a second, then shakes his head slightly, and walks closer to you, from your peripheral vision to right under your nose. The smile he gives you would be reassuring if you weren’t already half panicking.
“All right. Let’s start from the beginning. Where did you find it?”
After a second of hesitation, you free one of your hands and reach for the pouch at your hip, opening the flap to show them the otherworldly cotton inside.
“You were harvesting?” he asks, bending closer to poke at the fluffy balls. “That’s… Tataru, do you recognise this variety?”
“That’s the one you brought back from Ultima Thule, wasn’t it? The one you picked on the way.”
You nod.
“Did you find a viable egg on Meteion’s reconstruction of the Dragonstar?” Y’shtola asks, finally moving closer to inspect it. “It should be impossible considering the variables of its creation, but I suppose that once our feelings took over…”
You shake your head again.
They stare at you. You stare literally anywhere else.
It would be easier if you didn’t feel both scared and protective. But it called you and you know, you know—
“… it was waiting for me,” you finally murmur.
A gasp. They stay silent, unwilling to break off one of your rare utterances.
“… it was waiting for me… at the end…”
The end of the world, where a field of flowers shining with hope stretches into nothingness. Where you flew off into the void after the incarnation of Meteion’s despair with only Zenos to keep you company.
You and him, against despair. But only one of you had come back. At the edge of existence, everyone’s faith had been enough to drag you back safely. But your heart still called—still called you to that edge, the impulse to stare into the void for a glimpse of him making you vibrate until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.
You didn’t find him, no matter how hard you stared. But nestled amongst the flowers, you found the egg.
Swallowing, you hold the egg tighter, and finally look up again. They’re all staring at you, their faces a full spectrum of stages of understanding.
“… by the gods,” Alisaie finally whispers.
“B-but he’s not really a dragon,” Tataru stammers, and you could hug her for the use of that present tense. “He’s a human fused with a primal! How can he even la—make eggs?”
“More to the point,” Alisaie interjects, “how did he even find a partner to make the eggs with between leaving Sharlayan and disappearing into the void?”
“Ahem,” Alphinaud coughs, before you can have a crisis about whether to actually comment on your willingness to fill that role, “according to Estinien, there need not be two partners for dragons to reproduce, they are capable of having a brood on their own, and I believe Midgarsommr himself—”
“What have you been talking with Estinien about?”
“—and I believe,” he continues, pointedly ignoring his sister, “that in Zenos’s case, there has actually been precedent. Is that not what you told me?” he asks, turning back to you.
You nod.
“So there’s more of Zenos’s dragon children running around?” Tataru gasps. “Should we be worried?”
“It was when they fought, I believe,” Y’shtola says, quiet.
“… oh. I see.”
You nod, a little numb. Those eggs had been more beings of pure aether, meant to spur you on. You don’t know if they would actually have taken lives of their own, if left to their own devices. But this egg…
This egg is yours. This egg was meant for you. You know it.
And if it wasn’t there when you left, and it was waiting for you now… maybe one day he’ll be back to claim it. Maybe you can still believe.
Silence.
“… so… what do we do with it?” Tataru ventures.
You stubbornly clutch it to your chest.
“Seeing as our friend seems unwilling to part with it,” Y’shtola sighs, “I think we’ll just have to take care of it.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Well, we can’t hold an unhatched egg responsible for what its parent did, can we?” Alisaie points out. “It would go against everything we’ve done in the last few years.”
“… I suppose you’re right,” she says after a short pause. And then, before you can even smile gratefully at her, her eyes light up. “So! Do you think it’ll be a human, or a dragon?”
“That is a relevant question,” Alphinaud says, “but why the sudden interest?”
“Would you let a baby go naked? Shame on you, Alphinaud!” And having chastised him, she turns back to you. “Don’t worry, sweetie. By the time I’m done, dragon or human, your baby will have the best wardrobe on this side of the universe.”