~ I ~ Jukrit was in the herb garden when he heard the sound. He had heard Cygnagon wingbeats often enough to know them. He set down his clippers and walked to the gate. A dragon landed in the lane. She was Cygnagon; four legs, two wings, her body covered in warm dark brown fur that lightened to cream at her chest and belly. Her mane was golden blonde. Her wings were dark-membraned and bat-like. Small curved horns sat back from her forehead. She was smaller than Noraxia in feral form but not by much. She folded her wings and looked at him. "Is this the household of Noraxia?" she said. "It is," Jukrit said. "I'm Jukrit. Noraxia's partner." The dragon looked at him for a moment. "I'm Tatydra," she said. "Noraxia is my grandmother." "So you must be Persephone’s daughter," Jukrit said. Tatydra went still. "Noraxia told you about me?" "She told me about your mother," he said. "That makes you fairly predictable." He opened the gate. "Come in. Noraxia is out. She'll be back within the hour." Tatydra was 153 years old. She had flown from the other side of Pansilva. She was tired and had not expected the furfolk at the gate to already know her name. She came through the gate.
~ II ~ Jukrit made tea. This was what he did when he needed a few minutes to think and needed the other person to have something to do with their hands. Tatydra was in anthro form now, seated at the kitchen table. She was tall. Her fur was a warmer brown than Noraxia's and her eyes were amber rather than teal. "How long have you known?" she asked. "About Persephone?" Jukrit said. "Since the first year. Noraxia told me before we were properly together. She said if we were going to be honest with each other I should know everything." "And you kept it from the household." "Noraxia's choice to share or not," he said. "Not mine." Tatydra wrapped both hands around the tea cup. "How much did she tell you?" "That Persephone was born in SY 4250," he said. "That she was exiled to the far side of the planet. That you were born in SY 4379 and that you have a daughter, Sarima, born in SY 4492. That Noraxia has not seen Persephone since the exile." "Did she tell you why Persephone was exiled?" "No," Jukrit said. "She didn't. And I didn't ask." Tatydra looked at him. "You didn't ask." "It wasn't my business until it became my business," he said. "I think it's becoming my business now." Tatydra was quiet for a moment. "I grew up not knowing the whole story," she said. "My mother told me pieces. Some of what she told me I believe. Some of it I think she softened." "What do you know for certain?" "That the exile was a Cygnagon council decision," she said. "That it happened when my mother was forty-seven years old. That it was connected to a choice she made about her mate." She stopped. "And?" Jukrit said. "And that Noraxia voted with the council," Tatydra said.
~ III ~ The kitchen was quiet. Outside, the Pica ran loud with spring snowmelt. The whisperwood was putting out its first green. It was a good morning that had just become a more complicated one. "You came to ask her about that," Jukrit said. "I came to ask her if she'll advocate for my mother's return," Tatydra said. "The exile was 235 years ago. My mother is 282 years old. She has been on the far side of this planet for longer than I've been alive." She looked at her tea. "Sarima has never met her great-grandmother. I think it's been long enough." "Does Persephone want to come back?" "I think so," Tatydra said. "She doesn't say directly. She's careful about what she wants. She's been careful for 235 years." Jukrit thought about what Noraxia had told him and what she hadn't told him. He thought about the fact that she had voted with the council. He thought about what it meant to carry that for 235 years alongside the fact of it. "What was the choice Persephone made?" he said. "About her mate." "She chose a non-Cygnagon," Tatydra said. "A mammalian dragon from a different lineage. The council considered it a breach of breeding protocol. They exiled her for it." Jukrit looked at her. "Yes," Tatydra said. "I know what you're thinking." "I'm thinking," he said carefully, "that Noraxia chose a squirrel furfolk. And that the council did not exile her for it." "The council's position changed," Tatydra said. "Over time. My mother was the example they made before the position changed." Something moved in her expression. "She was 47 years old. She had done nothing wrong except be early."
~ IV ~ Noraxia came home forty minutes later. She came through the gate in feral form, which was how she preferred to travel. She saw the unfamiliar Cygnagon scent before she reached the door. She shifted to anthro form in the yard and came inside at a pace that was controlled. She stopped in the kitchen doorway. Tatydra stood up. For a moment neither of them said anything. Jukrit stayed at the counter and did not move. "Tatydra," Noraxia said. "Grandmother," Tatydra said. Noraxia crossed the kitchen and embraced her. It was brief and complete. Then she stepped back and looked at her granddaughter properly. "You have your mother's eyes," Noraxia said. "People say that," Tatydra said. "It's true," Noraxia said. She looked at Jukrit. He looked back. She read his face with ease. "He knows why you're here," she said. "He knows most of it," Tatydra said. "Good," Noraxia said. "Sit down. I'll tell you the rest."
~ V ~ She told it plainly. Jukrit had not heard it before in this form and he listened. Persephone had been 47 years old when she chose Vardek, a Dranebic mammalian dragon of a different lineage. The Cygnagon breeding council at the time held a strict position on cross-lineage mating. Noraxia had sat on that council. She had argued against the exile. She had lost the argument. When the vote came she had voted with the majority because abstaining would have had no practical effect and she had calculated that her standing on the council was worth preserving for future cases. "She never forgave you for that," Tatydra said. "No," Noraxia said. "She didn't." "Do you think she should have?" Noraxia was quiet for a moment. "I think I made a calculation that cost my daughter 235 years," she said. "Whether she should forgive me for it is her decision, not mine." "She softened the story when she told me," Tatydra said. "She said you had no choice." "She was being generous," Noraxia said. "I had a choice. I made the wrong one." The kitchen was very quiet. "The council's position changed thirty years after the exile," Noraxia said. "Cross-lineage mating is no longer prohibited. The exile should have been reviewed at that point. I requested a review. The request was denied on procedural grounds." "You tried," Tatydra said. "I have tried six times," Noraxia said. "In 235 years. Six formal requests. All denied." Tatydra looked at her grandmother. Something in her expression shifted — not softening exactly, but adjusting. "I didn't know that," she said. "Your mother didn't know either," Noraxia said. "I didn't tell her. I didn't want her to wait for each request and have it fail."
~ VI ~ Tassa found Tatydra in the yard that afternoon. She was in feral form when she came out, which meant she had already registered that there was a Cygnagon in the yard who was not Noraxia. She stopped six feet away and looked. Tatydra looked back. "You're Tassa," Tatydra said. She was in anthro form, sitting on the bench near the whisperwood. "Yes," Tassa said. "Who are you?" "Tatydra. Noraxia's granddaughter." Tassa processed this. She was 4 years old and she processed new relational information with more speed than most adults. "That makes you my— what?" "I’m your niece," Tatydra said awkwardly “...despite being over a century older than you.” "So you're family," Tassa said. "Something like that." Tassa came closer. She was still in feral form. "Do you have cubs?" she said. "A daughter," Tatydra said. "Sarima. She's 40 years old." "That's old," Tassa said. "By furfolk reckoning, yes," Tatydra said. "By Cygnagon reckoning she's still young." Tassa thought about this. "I'm going to live a long time too," she said. "Yes," Tatydra said. "You are." "Does that feel strange?" Tassa asked. Tatydra looked at her for a moment. It was a better question than most adults asked. "It feels normal to me," she said. "You'll feel the same way." Tassa shifted to furfolk and sat down next to Tatydra on the bench. "Tell me about Sarima," she said. Tatydra told her. She talked for twenty minutes and Tassa listened to all of it.
~ VII ~ After dinner Jukrit sat with Noraxia in the kitchen while Tatydra was in the guest room. "Six requests," he said. "Yes." "You never told me about the requests." "No." "Why not?" She was quiet for a moment. "Because each time one failed I wanted to put it somewhere it wouldn't take up space in the household," she said. "It was mine to carry." "Is that how you want to keep doing it?" he said. She looked at him. "No," she said. "Not anymore." "Then tell me what you need," he said. "A seventh request," she said. "With different backing. The previous six came from me alone. A seventh request co-signed by a healer-shaman with Guild standing, an Iskret who has standing in the interplanetary context, and the founding director of an institution with an active feral studies program and an off-world archive agreement." Jukrit looked at her. "That's us," he said. "That's us," she said. "Raskon will do it," he said. "Veverka will do it. I'll do it." "I know," she said. "I just needed to say it out loud." He put his hand over hers on the table. She turned her hand over and held on.
~ VIII ~ Tatydra stayed three days. She spent most of her time with Tassa, which surprised everyone except Veverka, who had met Tatydra on one of her Thursday crossings from the Nowshoy and had observed the situation for twenty minutes before concluding it was fine. On the last morning Jukrit drafted the seventh request. It was two pages. He showed it to Tatydra before sending it. She read it carefully. When she finished she said: "My mother is going to say you wrote this for Noraxia, not for her." "Tell her," Jukrit said, "that I wrote it because it was wrong and has been wrong for 235 years. And that I would have written it whether Noraxia asked me to or not, because that's what healers do when something has been wrong for 235 years." Tatydra looked at him for a moment. "I'll tell her exactly that," she said. She left the following morning. Tassa watched from the gate until Tatydra was out of sight, which took longer than usual because Tatydra circled once over the lane before heading south. "She'll come back," Lev said. He was on the fence rail, which he had been told not to do. "I know," Tassa said. "I already told her she had to." The spring morning went on. The seventh request was in transit to the Cygnagon council. Nobody knew how long it would take. The previous six had taken between three months and four years each. They would wait. They were good at waiting. Some things were worth it.
In my original lore from stories I wrote 10+ years ago, my Cygnagon dragonesses had a lineage. Canonically, Tatydra is Noraxia's granddaughter. For reference, Noraxia is currently 397 years old in this story. The old stories were set in a parallel universe but with the same character lineages; which is convenient since sometimes there are discrepancies between these stories and my old stories.
