Author's Note: Special thanks to
@Venia Silente and Torchic W. Pip and CinderArts from Thousand Roads for beta reading this one-shot.
A Dragon’s Folklore
Winter’s come early again this year. Just barely a month ago, the trees still had their autumn leaves and now the snow is already blanketing the ground in the world outside. Were you still living in the wilds, this would be a time when you’d retreat to your den, pull your wings in and tuck your ruddy head up against your tail to enter brumation huddled up with your young or, if you had none at the time, with a good dozen of your peers. A quite literal ‘Druddigon cuddlepile’ in as some younger humans might say.
“Ha ha! I’ve got you this time!”
But dwelling among humans allows a Pokémon to live in ways that aren’t dictated by nature’s cycles—much as the warmth of the fireplace you’re basking yourself by reminds you. You lift your head and peer into the darkness deeper in your trainer’s living room with your piercing yellow eyes and spot a pair of young Druddigon, spitting images of yourself, romping and chasing each other around the couch.
Even with the snow and winter chill kept safely at bay by the windows and walls of this human den, your children manage to surprise you at times with just how energetic they are. Especially now when the streetlights outside are lit up and the moon and stars are visible in the sky.
“Children… it’s getting late, keep it down,” you mutter tiredly. “Your trainers are trying to sleep right now.”
As were you, for that matter. But your children seem to have other plans in mind, and look at you from the couch with whines of protest.
“Aww, but
mom!”
The little one dragging his feet is your Second of Two, and if you living back in the wilds, that would be his name among peers of your kind until he accomplished his first feat worth being remembered for. He is ‘Rudd’ to the humans you live with, and your First of Two is ‘Rufus’ to them. You’re not sure what the story behind how the humans chose those names for them was, but that’s not on your mind at the moment.
“Enough.
Both of you, come and rest-”
You get up and throw a set of claws out to tug your younger child over, and abruptly recoil after noticing his scales feel cold to the touch. A flash of alarm crosses your eyes, before you scowl down with a scolding growl.
“Ack, your scales are freezing right now! How are you two not bothered by this?!” you hiss. “Come by the fire and warm up right now! It’s not good for young dragons like you to be this cold!”
“Aren’t there those ‘vent’ thingies by the walls we can just lay on?” your elder child asks, giving a sheepish grin.
You decide to put your foot down and slip behind your children, nudging them forward with a sharp harrumph. They squirm and flail briefly and you sigh to yourself, since
of course they’d put up a fuss.
“Nonsense, you’ll stay warmer huddled up with me,” you insist. “Why, back when I lived in the wilds, I’d do it myself every winter with the other Druddigon that I lived around.”
The pair stop struggling against you for a moment, before they turn and stare up with puzzled frowns.
“In that tower north of town that you and Duke talk about?” your elder child asks. “Why on earth would Druddigon want to live
there?”
“Yeah, there’s no fireplaces in there to stay warm with!” your younger child insists before trailing off to himself.
“Are there?”
Well, it
is common practice to occasionally break brumation to warm the ground with a gout of dragonfire and stave off the cold. But you learned long ago that such practices don’t mix well with the flooring of human dens, especially ones made from fuzzy ‘carpet’ like the one underfoot, so you opt not to give your children ideas.
“No, but there’s a lot of Pokémon like you and me who live in and around there, and others that are friends to them much like how your trainers’ teammates are to you,” you explain. “It’s a very, very special place that many other dragons elsewhere in Unova would be jealous of the Druddigon for being able to live there.”
Your Second of Two bats his wings tilts his head with a puzzled frown in reply.
“Huh? How come?” he asks. “I know you’ve
said it’s a special place… but why would that make the Pokémon there friends with one another?”
“Yeah, and why would anyone be jealous of living
there?” his brother chimes in.
… Maybe this was just the break you needed to wrangle them over by the fire. And the tale which answers your children’s question is one that you and the other Druddigon from your old home always took pride in.
“Well, it’d be a bit hard to tell you the story while you’re running and jumping around,” you chuckle. “Stay with me by the fireplace and I’ll tell it to you. Sound fair?”
The two dragonlets murmur in agreement and follow you back to the fire’s side. You settle in against the warmed carpet, and so do they, scooting up against your hide. They stretch their wings and shift to try and steal the heat from the fireplace, already starting to grow comfortable. If you can just keep them here for a couple minutes, they’ll surely be too content to want to give this warmth up to go back to playing elsewhere in the house.
And so, you look down as your First of Two paws at you, and he turns his snout up with a curious blink.
“So, how did Druddigon like us wind up living in that tower, then?”
There… are a number of versions of that story that go about, both among humans and Pokémon alike. After all, it’s not just
Druddigon who came to Dragonspiral Tower. Though you decide to focus on just their story for tonight. It alone is already a bit of a saga, and it should be just long enough to hold your children’s attention until they start to nod off.
Also, it’s always been a matter of pride for you as a story of your and your children’s kind. The story of how they of all the dragons of Unova won the trust of the Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White.
“Well… long, long ago, there were gods that lived among humans and Pokémon in this land. Dragons, like you and me, one of Deep Black and another of Vast White,” you begin. “And in those times, the tower to the north was built as a sanctuary for them by humans alongside Golett and Golurk companions. A place where the dragons could be worshiped and showered with tributes of food and treasure.”
“Wait,” your younger child cuts in. “But I thought the tower was built for
a god.”
You catch yourself briefly at his words, since the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to be the roost of
one god is an unhappy tale of ruin by fire and lightning. One that you’re not sure that your children need to hear at their young age.
“It’s… complicated to explain, and a story best saved for another day since it happened well after the first Druddigon moved in,” you insist. “But the point is, that at the time, the tower was built for two dragons who shared it as a den, much like we share this one together.”
“But wouldn’t those dragons there already have plenty of friends already?” your First of Two asks. “You just said there were a bunch of humans and Golett, right?”
“Yeah, and dad says that dragons like him normally like having places that they don’t have to share for dens,” your younger child adds. “Wouldn’t it already be a bit crowded even before the Druddigon came?”
You sigh to yourself as your children’s energy proves slower to wane than you’d thought. Perhaps if your mate were here, this would be an easier task. But he’s with his own human and far away at the moment, so this is a story that you must tell alone. You opt to brush your children’s questions aside and open your mouth to keep your tale going.
“Well… yes, but the gods’ den was
so big that even for two dragons, it was a bit lonely. And even though they already had many friends, none of them thought quite like them,” you explain. “The dragons wanted friends who would know what it was like to bask in the sun, of the thrill of a successful hunt, of the joy of finding a precious treasure and proudly showing it to others. And so it was that the gods asked the humans who worshiped them to find them additional friends to help watch over their shrine—ones who would be dragons like them.”
You pause briefly, expecting your children to pepper you with further questions, only to see that they’re now staring at you in rapt attention. You quietly sigh in relief that you won’t have to explain more just yet and continue telling your tale.
“Those humans went through all of Unova searching for dragons to be friends and helpers for the gods. Ones who would stand guard over the tower’s grounds and accept the treasures brought to them by visitors,” you tell your children. “The first ones they brought forth were Haxorus and their kin. Mighty dragons that stood tall and proud, and felled their foes with mighty chops of their tusks… and as dragons who didn’t eat much meat while they were young, they struck the ancients as ideal companions for the gods.”
You trail off a bit for dramatic effect, and give an affected, disappointed shake of your head. Much as your own mother did when she recounted this tale to you so many moons ago.
“Unfortunately, the Haxorus were a bit too open to fight, both with the Pokémon already there at the tower and with each other. And so it was that day and night, they kept quarreling over who would be highest among themselves as guardians,” you say. “Their fighting and battlecries went on and on to the point where the gods themselves couldn’t sleep. Such were things until one day, after one fight too many, the gods bellowed their displeasure and chased the Haxorus away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
Your children jostle against you and turn their heads up, pawing at you with worried grimaces.
“W-Wait, but dad’s a Haxorus and he’s not like
that,” your elder child insists. “... Is he?”
“I-Is this god still mad at him?” your other child asks.
You flinch briefly and bite your tongue. That wasn’t at all what you wanted your children to take away from that part of the story! You sit up from your resting position entirely, waving your claws vigorously in protest as you speak back to them.
“No! No! Not at all! It’s just that of the dragons that were brought before the gods,
those Haxorus didn’t understand the importance of the duties they were entrusted with. And because of it, they left a bad first impression as a result,” you reassure them. “The gods that roost there didn’t hold a grudge against
all Haxorus because of it. It’d have been awful for most dragons in this land if they did, especially for the Hydreigon and their kin who took their place afterwards.”
Your children jolt up with a start themselves and also sit up, pulling their wings in and staring nervously at you.
“... Wait,
Hydreigon?” your Second of Two asks. “B-But why on earth would the gods want Pokémon so
scary watching over their den?”
“Well, being scary’s not a bad thing all the time. After all, plenty of Pokémon would call you or me scary, and a scary guard can chase away others that mean harm to the places they have to protect more easily,” you explain. “That said, part of being a guard for someone else is that you need to be kindly to their guests, which the Hydreigon and their kin… weren’t.”
You look at your claws, and decide that while you’re still seated… perhaps a bit of acting to stir your children’s imagination is in order. You hold your arms out and curl your claws in almost like mouths, spreading your wings to mimic the appearances of a Hydreigon in flight.
“When the Hydreigon came, they too fought amongst each other, and stripped much of the surrounding forests bare to feed themselves,” you say, flashing your fangs for ominous effect. “And as the new guardians of the gods’ den, they took every opportunity they could to lord over those that lived in and around their tower. To the point where humans and Pokémon stopped visiting the gods entirely because they were too afraid of their guards and how they’d be treated.”
Your children are scooting in towards each other and holding onto each other now, visibly shivering and wide-eyed. You decide that’s as good a sign as any to reel things in and bring your arms and wings at rest. After all, this is supposed to be a
happy story, not a frightening one.
“After seeing their visitors dwindle along with their gifts of treasure, the gods’ patience wore out. Once again, they bellowed their displeasure and chased the Hydreigon away from the tower, with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
That seems to do the trick as your children calm down and settle in against the carpet again, as your First of Two blinks at you with a curious quirk of his brow.
“How many
other dragons were brought to the tower anyways?”
“All the ones that could be found from Unova,” you answer. “All of whom caused their own troubles when they were brought over.”
There was quite a list of other dragons that failed to secure the gods’ favor in your tale, and moving your wings and limbs, you try to mimic the forms of each one as you mention them.
“The Flygon would keep digging up the sacred stones set up about the tower, while the Altaria would sing and trill at inappropriate times. The Dragonite couldn’t be coaxed to come out of the moat every other day, while the Salamence would spend more time flying about than standing guard and burned their surroundings when angered,” you finish, with your wings held flat and wide as you trail off and sit back down on the carpet.
“But in the end, it was not those annoyances that were those dragons’ undoing,” you tell your children. “Instead, there were always two things that each and every one of them did that ultimately wore the gods’ patience thin…”
“They kept fighting with each other and the Pokémon and humans who were already there?”
You turn your head down and look at your children, with your elder child finishing your words with a quiet yawn before you can finish. You settle back down on the carpet and give a small smile, content that thus far, your scheme has been bearing fruit.
“That’s right, and like every group of dragons before them, the gods would chase the latest newcomers away with fire and lightning,” you reply, nodding. “And so it was that the late fall came, and in the weeks just before the first snowflakes started falling from the sky, the first Druddigon arrived in the forests surrounding the tower.”
“Wait, but why would things turn out differently for them?” your Second of Two asks. “Since if all those other dragons made the gods upset… what made
them so special?”
“Well, part of it is that the Druddigon came there for different reasons,” you explain, casting a glance out at the snowy world outside through the living room window.
“... Unlike the other dragons, the Druddigon had lost their home in the mountains earlier that year and spent all of the warm months searching for another outside of it,” you tell them. “During their wanderings, they heard stories of a tower that would be given away as a den for dragons, so long as they impressed the gods and their guardians that dwelt within it.”
“But how did they do that?” the dragonlet presses you.
“By working together!” you chuckle back. “After hearing of the earlier dragons’ squabbles, the Druddigon’s elder dragons gathered their ranks together and declared that if they would merely work together, that the den would be there for them all.”
Well, things were undoubtedly more complicated than that, but you’ve always been fondest of the simpler version of the story that your mother and the other Druddigon you lived around told most frequently. And thus, you stick to it and continue telling it.
“And so they bravely marched forth, young and old, weak and strong, meeting the gods’ guardians in battle and fighting them to a draw,” you say, smiling back. “And with force of will and dragons’ might, their strength and teamwork so impressed the Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White that the gods at once offered the Druddigon the honor of guarding their shrine.”
Your children’s eyes are excited now as they murmur to each other about how exciting it must have been to impress such strong Pokémon when even the likes of mighty Haxorus and Hydreigon couldn’t. Their eyelids are starting to grow heavy, and content that your storytelling has done its work, you start to curl up towards the fire alongside them and give a content smile.
“And that is how Druddigon like us came to live in Dragonspiral Tower.”
That seems as good a note as any to leave things on and give the last nudge needed to push your children off towards sleep. You start to reach out to pull them in towards you, when a quiet, disapproving voice speaks up from behind.
“... That’s not how
I remember the story going, Neela. I grew up around Dragonspiral Tower myself, and I distinctly remember the tale of how the Druddigon came to live there being quite different.”
You stiffen up after a yipping voice calls out the name your humans use for you and turn to see a Mienshao approaching with a small, quiet frown. That’s ‘Duke’ as your humans call him, which you suppose has rubbed off on you from force of habit. He was a partner to the the humans of this family before you, and the Pokémon who showed you the ropes when you just started being trained. He’s the closest thing there is to an elder among the Pokémon in this human den, and like an elder, he carries wisdom from both his life spent among humans and his time before that.
It’s that second source of wisdom that has you a bit worried, as you speak up and hurriedly try to brush him off.
“Ah, yes. Well, it’s folklore,” you insist. “There’s usually slightly different versions of stories that go around depending on whoever tells it—”
“Maybe so, but even that’s definitely not the most commonly-told version of the story I heard when living around Dragonspiral Tower,” the Mienshao retorts, folding his arms. “Especially the parts about how the Druddigon came into the tower. It’s not
quite as simple a story as that.”
You grimace as your children are suddenly more awake now, and much to your chagrin, much as children tend to do, your younger child lets curiosity get the better of him and he glances up at the Mienshao.
“Oh? What was different about those versions of the story you heard?”
Duke doesn’t frown, but even so, his expression remains firm as he squats to lower himself down to your children’s level.
“Well, the Druddigon’s purpose for coming to Dragonspiral Tower was a bit different in the versions of that story I usually heard. In the wilds, Druddigon don’t just hunt for food, but also for dens,” Duke explains. “And when they come across one that’s pleasing to them, sometimes they will try and drive its owner off to claim it for themselves.”
He shakes his head as you tighten your claws against the carpet and quietly cringe. If the version of the story Duke’s about to tell is the one that you think it is, it’s not one that paints your ancestors in a particularly flattering light.
“That was also what brought them to Dragonspiral Tower. They had been wandering from the mountains, when in the late fall, they passed through the forests and moors around what is now Icirrus City. There, they came across the tower, not knowing that it was a shrine to the gods,” he says. “All they saw was that it was a pleasing den, but much too big for any of one of them to claim alone. And so their elders said: ‘let us join claws and hunt this den from those who dwell there to take for ourselves’.”
Your children are starting to waver now, as that sense of wonder you worked so hard to instill leaves their eyes and a doubtful unease takes its place.
“... Wait, but aren’t there Golett and Golurk at the tower still?” your elder child asks. “Doesn’t that mean that those Druddigon
lost?”
“Well, yes and no. Your mother is right about them fighting the defenders to a draw, and some of the tellers of the story I heard said they even gained the upper paw. And as such, were about to drive off those Golett and Golurk and take the tower for themselves,” the Mienshao says, before shaking his head.
“The problem was that they went off to claim Dragonspiral Tower on a day when the gods came back to roost,” the Fighting-type continues. “And when the gods found out about what these strangers had done to their companions, they were quite understandably upset.”
Your grumble under your breath about how Duke just had to step in and ruin your story right before the kids were about to sleep. Their wings are drooped now and their heads held low in disappointment, as your Second of Two uneasily raises his voice to ask:
“What… happened then?”
“Well, the way I usually heard the story told, the gods grew enraged and bellowed their displeasure and swooped down at the Druddigon, throwing fire and lightning at their feet,” Duke replies. “I heard it told that the Druddigon grew sore afraid at the display of the Dragons’ might, to the point where some of them even fell ill out of fright in the gods’ presence—”
You’ve had enough. You don’t understand why Duke is doing this since as your mentor, it’s not like him to just embarrass you in front of others. You let out a sharp glare and growl your displeasure, turning away with a sour huff.
“Alright Duke, we don’t need to hear the rest,” you snap. “I just wanted to tell the kids a nice story before they went to sleep before
you had to step in and ruin things.”
The Mienshao falls quiet for a moment, before he looks over with a small smile and a waves of a wispy-furred paw.
“Then wouldn’t it make sense for me to end the story before it’s over, now would it?” he asks. “After all, while the truth of any story doesn’t always show Pokémon like us at our best, in this one, of all the dragons that came before them, the gods did indeed
choose those same Druddigon to help stand guard over their tower.
You blink and realize that Duke must be telling a different version of the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to have Druddigon than you expected. Your own children blink in confusion as they look up at the Mienshao, and try to make sense of his reassurance.
“They… did?” your Second of Two asks. “But why?”
“Yeah, the Druddigon in your story were mean to the Pokémon that were already there!” your First of Two protests. “And when the gods got mad at them, they got all scaredy afterwards. Why on earth would the gods want them after everything?”
“Well, I think you’re being a bit harsh on them. Since most Pokémon in their situation would be pretty scared, dragon or not,” the Mienshao insists. “But in spite of their fright, amidst the gods’ roars and their fire and lightning, the Druddigon did not yield or turn away or flee like the other dragons that came before them. Even while visibly quaking, they alone stood firm.”
You blink at the Mienshao’s answer, and your features ease a bit. He sees them himself, before he raises a paw and continues with his tale.
“With embers and sparks dancing about them, the gods held back their power briefly as they grew curious about the Druddigon’s strange determination and demanded an answer from them: ‘Why did you come here and harm our guardians? Even if you had successfully defeated them, did you really think that you could best our might?’”
Duke trails off briefly, studying your reaction and your children’s. You glimpse out the corner of your eye and see what he does: that that curious spark has returned to their eyes. Even if they’re not as excited as they were for your version of the story, they don’t look disappointed anymore.
“At the gods’ demand, one of the Druddigon at the front fell to his belly with a heartful plea: ‘Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White, have pity! We sought your tower for ourselves because our dens were hunted from us and we have none to shield ourselves from winter’s snow!’”
You see your children stiffen up and glance out the window towards the snow through the window and wince at the sight. Being stuck in such weather without shelter all winter would be the end of many a dragon, and while this detail is also in the version of events you were worried Duke would bring up… somehow his version feels like it doesn’t make light of those Druddigon of bygone times.
“The other Druddigon joined in and with one voice desperately echoed their companion’s plea, explaining that if they were turned away, they would surely die. If not from the gods’ wrath, then from winter’s frost. The gods were moved by their plight and lingered for a moment, before one of them, their identity lost to time, spoke up.”
This time, Duke turns his eyes to yours, and runs a paw on your head crest, giving a small smile down at you as words that surprise you come from his mouth
“‘Stand tall, brave and noble dragons. For you have shown unity and humility where all others before you did not, and did not yield and turn away from us even in the face of certain death.’”
You blink at your mentor. You can’t tell if he’s just saying this to make you feel better or not. In tellings of this tale you’ve heard where the teller portrayed the Druddigon as acting craven, the gods didn’t say anything as gracious as that to them.
And yet, every word that leaves his mouth feels natural and unrehearsed, like he’d heard it told many times himself. You yourself find yourself getting engrossed as he opens his mouth and carries on with his tale.
“For a fleeting moment, the Druddigon were at a loss, when the other divine dragon spoke up in stern warning: ‘So long as you dwell in our domains, you shall never claim this land as its masters, but defend it on our behalf. You shall live amongst our other servants as equals. They shall be your allies and you shall be theirs,’” the Mienshao says. “And so the Druddigon lowered their heads and marched forward into their new den, taking their place among Dragonspiral Tower’s guardians.”
The Mienshao stoops down and pats at your children’s crests, before turning to you with a knowing smile.
“Considering how there’s Druddigon that live out there to this day, I’d say that they’ve done a pretty good job keeping up their end of the bargain,” he reassures. “Don’t you think, Neela?”
You should probably be more annoyed by how Duke undercut your story earlier, but at the same time, even if it could’ve done without some of its less flattering details, his telling of the tale has its own charm. Like your own that you’ve passed on to your children, it’s a story of a lineage to be proud of: of courage and unity winning your ancestors an honor most Pokémon could only dream of.
Your children are tired now and your First of Two is now pawing at his eyes, while your younger stretches out against the carpet, before looking up with a curious murmur.
“Wait, but Duke? There weren’t any Mienshao in that story at all,” he says. “Were they not there already when the Druddigon came?”
You stiffen up at your younger child’s question. Even as it is told among its
Druddigon, the story of how Mienfoo and Mienshao came to be guardians of Dragonspiral Tower is one that doesn’t reflect your kind that well. It’s a tale of how for all their strength and valor, the tower’s dragons ultimately needed help making good on their duties during the chill of the wintry months. Duke sees your tension, with a chuckling shake of his head, he opts to spare you further embarrassment for tonight.
“That’s a story for another time, little one,” your mentor says. “You look tired, and it’s important for a young dragon like you to stay warm and rest on a cold night like this.”
The Mienshao gets up and drifts off, for his own corner elsewhere in the house that he claims to doze off in at night. You settle in with your children, curling up together beside the fire as your Second of Two paws at your chest and looks into your eyes.
“I liked your version of the story more, mom,” he tells you. “Though will we ever get to go to that tower ourselves?”
You look down, and nuzzle at your child as a knowing smile comes over your maw.
“We will, sweetie. When you and your brother are a bit older.”
You curl up with your children beside the fire and begin to drift off. For a fleeting moment, you wonder to yourself… between your story and Duke’s, which of the two is closer to the truth? Duke’s version of the tale you knew has details that are the ones in yours, so does that mean that yours isn’t right?
You think back to Duke’s reassurance at the end and ultimately decide to leave things be. Whatever
really happened, those Druddigon won the gods’ trust in the end.
You and your children carry the lineage of those brave and noble dragons, and it is one that you all can be proud of.