Chapter Text
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Will feels his lungs burning with each crushing step. Even the slightest of movement is enough to send pain flaring from the wound in his shoulder, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter when he can feel fangs nipping at his ankles. If he hesitates even a little bit, or loses focus on his balance, nothing will matter. He will become nothing more than a meal to the beasts chasing him.
He hears the cackle of their laughter loud in his ears. When he turns to look back at his pursuers, he's met with gnarled fur and yellowed canines. Gnolls, and they're grinning at him. The best he can do is fire off a few spells at them, but he's running out of steam. He can barely get his attacks to land, not when he's intent on barrelling through the forest in the pouring rain.
He thinks back to his Party, and how they got ambushed in the middle of their journey. They knew about a clan of gnolls that had been terrorizing nearby towns all along the High Road to the capital. They've helped those towns recover, fended off a few of those gnolls themselves. They knew that, and yet they were still caught off-guard, drowned out by the storm above. Max was barely able to warn them before an arrow lodged its way into Will's shoulder. Lucas tried valiantly to fend them off with his bow and arrow. Dustin and Jane worked hand in hand, casting spells to keep them at bay.
Everything became a blur. Will had tried to take cover and heal so he could get back into the fight, but the gnolls took notice. They chased him. They are still chasing him.
The laughter grows louder. It's surrounding him.
He bursts into a clearing. In the distance, he spots what looks to be an abandoned castle. Moss embedded into the stone walls, foundation crumbling into pebbles around it. Even more danger could be hiding in those dark halls, but Will doesn't care. If he can take solace for even a single minute from these gnolls, he could recover and rejoin his group. That is, if he isn't completely lost in these woods. He breaks into a sprint once more, bounding over the rotting bridge and towards the castle.
He doesn't notice the gnolls stop dead in their tracks once they break into the clearing themselves. He doesn't notice the way their eyes widen with fear, looking up at the towering castle with their tails between their legs. Suddenly, their hunt isn't worth it anymore.
The cleric would be dead anyways, becoming a meal for something else lurking within the castle. Something much more cruel and dangerous.
Will slams into the front door of the castle, wincing at the pain that blossoms from his shoulder as he does so, before scrambling inside. His limbs can barely carry him forward any longer. His legs give out halfway up the stairwell of the grand hall, and he lands harshly against the steps. He tries to blink away the spots in his vision, willing himself to stay conscious for just a little longer. His breaths are heaving and uneven, and any magic he tries to conjure at his fingertips fizzles out.
Worse yet, in the distance, he can hear a low rumble. The ground vibrates beneath him, disturbing the layer of dust that has accumulated. It's the sound of approaching footsteps, but its source sounds too big to be coming from a humanoid, or even just a medium-sized creature. He tries once more to prop himself up on the steps, to defend himself against whatever approaches, but he can't. He has no more strength.
Will collapses to the ground, feeling the world spin beneath him. He takes what he thinks is his final breath.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Large, golden eyes look down at the human before him. Robes tattered and soaked from the rain, the smell of blood in the air. He normally thinks nothing of whelps like this, barely worth his consideration. Not big enough to warrant a meal, yet definitely small enough to be considered a pest and to be squashed as such.
Except, he spots the intricate, golden filigree of his cloak, and the glint of the human's polished jewelry and other such adornments. It compliments the light tan of his skin and the chestnut brown of his hair. Undoubtedly, the human looks beautiful.
The sight of him satisfies a deep greed in his gut— finally, a new and pretty trophy to add to his hoard. Perhaps he's not a pest, but a plaything. A toy. He takes the human into his clawed hand, small and limp in his grasp. He's warm against his cool scales, and it takes everything in him not to tear the robes off his little human. He looks so soft and pliant like this, gentle lashes pressed against even gentler cheeks.
But he knows to be patient. Knows how best to enjoy the feast before him.
With his human now clutched in his claws, he takes him deeper and deeper into the castle.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Will doesn't expect to wake up. He doesn't expect to wake up against silk sheets, no less. He immediately jolts upright and his vision swims as a result. That, and a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder. He goes to grasp at the source of the pain, only to realize he's been disrobed and bandaged. He's even more confused now.
He swings his head around as if it were on a swivel. He barely registers what he sees with how quickly his eyes scan the room he's in— or rather, he's not really in a room. He's definitely in a cage. Large bands of arched gold hang above his head, and the only thing inside besides himself is the bed he's laying on. He moves to slide off the bed, bare feet landing on the cool metal floor of the cage. His knees still wobble beneath his weight, but he manages to catch himself against the golden bars before he could collapse again. He squints into the darkness, trying to get a better gauge of his surroundings.
The cage seems to be sitting atop a large pile of gold. There are riches as far as the eyes can see; heaps of coins, jewels, and other such precious materials stretch like hills across a valley. It's difficult to see much beyond that due to the low lighting of the space, lit only by a few spare torches that hang against stone pillars. But with the damp chill in the air, it's easy for him to surmise that he's underground. More so, he understands the meaning of the riches that surround him.
Will's heart drops to his stomach. He's found himself in the middle of a dragon's hoard.
He falls to the ground, defeated. To have amassed such wealth— the dragon that has captured him is surely powerful, something to be feared. He's no fool. He knows what this means, that he'll never get the chance to see his friends or family ever again. Even a powerful mage couldn't stand a chance against a dragon of such might— especially alone, — and he's only a fraction of that. There is no spell that his goddess could grant him that could save him from such a predicament as this. It's hopeless. He's as good as dead.
He presses his forehead against the metal bars. His eyes wrench shut as a pitiful sob tears from his throat, echoing throughout the empty space. Except, he thought it was empty.
"Why are you crying, little bird?"
An unknown voice reverberates in the chamber. The sound of it is booming and all-encompassing, and it causes the piles of gold to shift from the deep rumble. He can even feel it in his chest, vibrating his ribcage where his heart races underneath. Will's eyes fly open, nervously searching the area for the source of that voice. Then, he spots it. In the distance, a piercing golden eye stares back at him.
"I asked you a question," it speaks again. "Why do you cry?"
Will doesn't know if he should answer.
"Does the little bird not understand me? Am I not speaking in the common tongue?"
The figure in the darkness moves. He can barely see it, but Will catches the silhouette of a large, reptilian figure with smooth black scales. It slinks along the edges of the chamber, careful not to expose itself to the low torchlight. Will follows its movement. He feels like he's being stalked.
"Or perhaps the little bird is simply struck dumb by my presence." There's a sound of a deep inhale. "I can smell your fear. It's clouding the air."
"I-I'm not afraid of you," Will says with a trembling voice, completely betraying his words. He feels the warmth of his magic swirl at his fingertips, ready to fire at the beast. He knows it's futile, but he doesn't want to go down without a fight.
The dragon chuckles, low and amused. "Ah, so you do understand me. And my, what a feisty little thing I have captured. I will have plenty of fun with you."
Will does not like the sound of that. "Let me go, please," he pleads. "I'm surely not worth your time, for a dragon of your prowess."
"Oh? And what makes you say that?"
He bites the bottom of his lip. He glances at his surroundings once more, at the piles of riches that fill the space. "You have already amassed such a vast and impressive treasury. I am but a simple cleric— I hold no value to you."
The dragon hums to itself. "Flattery will get you nowhere, little bird. And who are you to say you hold no value? In fact, you might be my most prized possession of all."
Will frowns at that. He's not sure of what it means, nor does he understand the flutter in his chest at those words. The dragon is only placating him, he reasons. He really is just a cleric, barely on his first adventure. There is nothing impressive about him, besides the fact that this dragon has kept him alive for this long. He still can't wrap his head around that.
"Return to bed, my dear," the dragon coos. "You need to rest. I barely rescued you from death's door, and yet now you're sprawled on the ground. That must not be comfortable for you."
"Why do you care?" Will bites back. His grip on the bars of the cage tightens. "Let me out of here— now!"
The dragon clicks its tongue. Despite being obscured by shadow still, Will can sense that it's moved closer. He stiffens at the golden eyes that narrow in his direction. "You are in no position to make such demands of me," it growls. "You will do as I say and return to bed."
It turns to leave the chamber before turning to Will one last time. "When you next wake, I shall have a meal prepared for you. It is in your best interest to eat it, to regain your strength." Its voice becomes softer somehow— kinder, despite its commanding presence. "Now, go to sleep, my dear. Good night."
The floor rumbles with each step as the dragon takes its leave. Will can hear the sound of large, leathery wings unfolding, then the dragon takes flight. To where, he is unsure. It's just him and the cage now.
He closes his eyes again, and his sobbing continues. Quieter this time, so as not to disturb the beast lurking in the castle. The dragon spoke of a meal, and Will could only assume that it means to fatten him up before making a meal out of him. Or perhaps the dragon wants to simply torture him, treat him like a toy to be played with. He's heard enough stories to know that dragons are cruel and menacing creatures. It is unlikely that he will live more than a week in this cage.
But then, his thoughts drift to what the dragon had mentioned earlier— of being his most prized possession. What did it mean by it? And why does Will's heart race when he thinks about the softness of the dragon's voice? A hand releases its grip from the cage bars, calloused from how tightly he held it. He ghosts over the bandages that are gingerly wrapped around his shoulder and torso. He's being cared for, and he doesn't know why. Warmth fills his cheeks at the sentiment.
Perhaps he's just tired. He's still worn from battle, and he needs to regain his energy if he wants to escape— or at the very least, survive. Maybe he'll have a clearer head after he rests. Will turns to eye the bed behind him, large and adorned with soft, silken sheets. He's never slept in a bed as fine as this, only ever in mottled cots or worn blankets draped on dirt. He feels as if he's being pampered like a pet, and he doesn't know if he should be grateful or mortified. Reluctantly, he climbs into the bed. He sinks into the plush cushions, and already he can feel a wave of fatigue wash over him. Before he even realizes, he's drifting off into a deep sleep.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Will is vaguely aware of a presence next to him, but he can't respond. He feels frozen in place, buried underneath the mounds of blankets. The bed sinks from the weight of another person sitting atop it. He feels the touch of warm fingers brush away at his hair, tucking it behind his ear. Then, he feels a tender kiss press against his temple. The moment is brief but unmistakeable. A hand glides over his face, thumb idly stroking the apple of his cheek. There's a deep intake of breath, then a slow, almost reverent sigh. The bed shifts again, and he feels the presence leave.
The cage door slams shut with a pound clang, and Will finally jolts awake.
He scans his surroundings again, saddened to see he's still locked behind gilded bars. But before he can move to get off the bed, he realizes something has been placed on his lap. He looks down and finds a golden tray propping up a platter of food. It's a meal that consists of roasted poultry, potatoes, and grapes. Will's traitorous stomach growls at the sight of it.
"Good morning, my dear," comes a voice from the darkness.
It's hard for Will not to jump in surprise at the sound. He turns his head towards the source and sees the dragon staring back at him, golden eyes glinting. He's closer to the light now, still mostly obscured by shadow, but he can see two large claws peeking out, one laid across the other. A large, black tail sways lazily back and forth.
"Are you hungry? As promised, I have prepared a meal for you."
Will looks back down at the food before him. The savory aroma of rosemary and thyme wafts in the air as steam rises from the platter. His mouth waters at it, but he can't bring himself to eat. The plate looks too perfect, too polished, and every cell in his body is telling him it's a trap, that he shouldn't eat this. The dragon must've noticed his hesitation, because it speaks up again.
"Hmm, perhaps the meal is not to your liking," it muses. "Would you like me to prepare something else for you, little bird?"
"It's poison," Will says without thinking. "This is poisoned, isn't it? This is meant to be my final meal."
"Now, why would you say that? I wouldn't dare poison you, my sweet. And if you stay by my side, I shall gladly feed you many more meals like this."
Will scoffs. "You say that as if I have a choice. You have me locked in a cage!"
The dragon hums, as if taking what he said into consideration. "I suppose you're right," it chuckles. "Still, you should eat, little bird. I can hear your stomach growling from here."
Will's stomach rumbles even louder, betraying him once more. He briefly glances back down at the tray on his lap before flashing his eyes back at the dragon. "Come out of the darkness. Let me see you," he calls out. "I won't eat unless you do."
"My my, back to making demands, are we? I'm perfectly content with watching you from over here."
He crosses his arms over his chest indignantly, lifting his chin into the air. "Then I guess I won't eat."
The dragon glares at Will and growls, tail thumping impatiently. Will does his best to pay him no mind, same with the cramp that twists in his stomach. The food before him is tempting, but he will not eat it— not if the dragon doesn't comply with his request. A moment passes between the two. And then another. He will not break this stand still, even if it meant starving to death. It doesn't matter if Will would be dead anyway. It would be slow and painful, but at least it would be on his own terms.
Then, the dragon huffs in defeat.
"Very well."
The ground begins to rumble as the dragon gets up, piles of coin and jewels shifting from its movement. Slowly, the dragon takes a step forward into the light.
Will can see it more clearly now, the shimmering black scales of a towering beast. Large wings stretch outwards, causing the torchlight in the room to flicker and cast shadows. He dares to look up at the dragon's face, sharp and angular but also riddled in scars. Two horns curve out from the side of its head, and leathery spines trail from its temple all the way down the back of its neck. Amber gold eyes stare at him warily, as if it's gauging his reaction. Will can only gawk at the sight of such a beast.
"You look…" he trails off, at a loss for words.
"Terrifying? Hideous?" the dragon bites back.
"Beautiful."
He's not quite sure why he said it, but it wasn't a lie.
The dragon's eyes widen in surprise. It turns away from Will for a moment, almost bashful in its expression.
"I apologize, little bird, but I realize I haven't asked for your name," it says quietly.
Will doesn't know why it answers the beast. Perhaps he's too enraptured by its appearance, or maybe he's caught under its spell. But he answers anyway. "It's William."
"William." The way his own name rolls off the dragon's tongue has Will quivering. He shakes away the feeling.
"And yours? What should I call you?"
The dragon turns back to him, inching closer until Will can feel his breath on his skin. "I am Michael."
Will doesn't know why his cheeks fill with warmth at the name. "Well, Michael— thank you, I guess. For showing yourself and for this meal."
Why is he thanking him? He has him locked away in a cage, for gods' sake.
Michael's lips curl into a small, satisfied smile. "It is my pleasure, little bird. Now, go and eat. Your food is getting cold."
Will finally turns his attention back on the meal on his lap. His stomach growls again, and he doesn't know how much longer he can go without eating, especially with the full plate of food before him. The pressure to eat is insurmountable now that Michael is so close, staring at him with his intense, golden eyes. Will takes the knife and fork into his hands and cuts into the roasted poultry. He's completely forgotten his fear of a potential poisoning, and he lets the food land on his tongue.
He's immediately hit with a burst of flavor. Salt, pepper, and a mix of herbs dance in his mouth. It's not long before he takes another bite, swallowing each morsel of food greedily. It just tastes so good, and he didn't realize how hungry he was. He hears an amused chuckle come from Michael, but he pays him no mind as he eats. For a brief moment, he forgets all about his past troubles— of the gnolls that chased him until he nearly died, and of the dragon that has held him captive since.
He forgets, but only for a brief moment.
For as soon as he feels that sense of relief, he's also filled with a sense of guilt. He gets to sit here, atop the sheets of a fancy bed, eating the most delicious meal he's ever had in his life, while his friends are still out there battling monsters. He doesn't even know how long he's been gone for, or if his friends managed to defeat the gnolls. They must be worried for him— or worse, they might be dead. He swallows thickly, head hanging low. He stops eating and goes entirely still. Michael notices, tilting his head at Will.
"What's wrong, little bird?" he asks softly. "Are you finished eating?"
"…Let me go."
Michael huffs in annoyance. "Not this again—"
"Let me out of here!"
The tray of food clatters to the ground, making a harsh ringing noise as it connects with the metal floor. Will rushes off the bed and slams against the bars, glaring daggers at the dragon. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes, and he grits his teeth in an attempt to stop himself from sobbing.
Michael looks surprisingly worried. "What's happening, William? Why are you crying?"
"I said let me out of here, Michael," he seethes. "You've had your fun with me, so please— please, just let me go."
"I am not finished with you," the dragon snarls. "You are my possession now, little bird. You aren't going anywhere."
Will curses under his breath, pressing his forehead against the cold metal bars of his cage. Hopelessness settles in his gut again, and he feels sickened. No amount of warm meals or cozy blankets could erase the fact that he's trapped here. His friends might be dead, while he's locked away in this golden cage. He breaks into a quiet sob.
Michael stares at him with a hardened expression. Then, it softens with a sigh. "You have yet to answer my question, William. Why are you crying?"
"My friends…" Will manages to choke out. "My friends— they're probably dead by now."
"I don't see what you mean."
"We were ambushed on the High Road," he continues. "We were attacked by gnolls, and I got separated. They almost killed me…"
"Ah yes, the gnolls," Michael nods along. "Well, don't worry, my sweet. You will be safe from those mutts as long as you are by my side."
Will's blood boils in anger. "I did not choose to be at your side— you have me trapped here. I don't care if I'm safe from the gnolls when my friends could be dead! A-and here I am, j-just—just gorging myself on food while I sit on a literal pile of gold… My friends are bleeding out in the woods, becoming a feast to those monsters, and I can't do anything about it… I'm just sitting here, becoming s-some— some toy to a dragon, being treated like a fucking pet…"
He can't stop the tears now. He cups his hands over his face as he falls to the ground, landing on his knees. "I didn't even say goodbye— I just ran like a coward. I was supposed to be there, helping them… I'm supposed to be their fucking cleric, but I'm stuck here and I can't do anything…"
Michael just watches silently as he sobs. Will almost wishes he would say something so he could throw all his emotions at him, to scream and cry and curse his name. But he doesn't. He just sits there, observing.
Then, he gets up.
"I'll come back once you've calmed down," he says in an even tone. "And when I return, you better have cleaned up your mess."
"Fuck you," Will spits out.
Michael doesn't respond. He slinks back into the darkness at the edge of the chamber with his wings outstretched. He's leaving, Will realizes, and he has to stop himself from calling out to him. As much as he despises the situation he's in, he doesn't want to be left alone. Trapped down here, in this cold, dark cage. He brings his knees to his chest, curling further and further into a tight ball. He just sits there and weeps until all of the energy is drained from him, and he falls back asleep.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Mike soars high above the skies, scanning the forest floor below him. It's been a while since he's flown like this, and he supposes this is as good an excuse as any to stretch his wings. The image of William's crying face is burned into his mind; lips pulled into a tight line, brows furrowed and creased. He's a pretty crier, he thinks to himself, but he would rather have him crying for different reasons. No, seeing that vision before him stirs something cruel in his stomach, and he must act on it.
Besides, this was beneficial for him, too. Those gnolls have long since been vermin that have infested the woods near his abode. He's been careless, lazy, and allowed them to frolic through the trees with reckless abandon. But not any longer.
He spies a column of black smoke in the distance and flies towards it. He sees an abandoned fortress, decorated in garbled leathers and furs. Spikes and bones are scattered around the perimeter, and as he approaches, he can hear the sounds of cackling laughter. He's found them.
He can see that the gnolls are beginning some sort of feast, judging from the bonfire at the center of their encampment. Aside from the gnolls, he spots what appears to be a half-elf and a dwarf bound up in rope, being escorted by gnolls towards the fire with spears. William's friends, perhaps. Then, by the treeline, he sees a roguish elf and a ranger, preparing to take on the entire camp of gnolls by themselves. How brave of them, he thinks to himself.
But there's no need to prolong this any further. Mike dips beneath the clouds, and as soon as his form is spotted by the gnoll scouts, he hears the horns blow.
He lands squarely atop the burning bonfire, flames flicking across his black scales. The heat feels good, reminding him of home. He snaps at a few gnolls with his jaws, crushes others beneath his feet. He's playing with his food.
"What the actual fuck?!" shouts the dwarf, staring up at him in wide-eyed fear.
The half-elf next to him breaks her out of her bounds easily and fires off two spells at him. Her magic bounces off his scales, and Mike huffs in annoyance at them. If they weren't William's friends, he would surely kill them, too, but he wouldn't do that to him. That wretched cleric has buried himself deep in his cold, blackened heart, igniting something new and dangerous.
"Dustin! Jane!" comes a voice from the treeline, belonging to the fiery-haired rogue. She gestures for the other two to escape with them into the woods.
The ranger next to her nocks an arrow into his bow, aiming it at Mike, but then he falters. He drops his weapon with a silent but determined expression on his face. "C'mon, you two— let's go!"
"Don't have to tell me twice!" The dwarf and the half-elf join their friends at the edge of the woods, before all of them dive deeper past the clearing.
Mike turns his attention back on the gnoll encampment. With William's friends out of the way, there is no need for him to hold back anymore. He rears himself up on hindlegs, feeling that familiar spark in the base of his throat. White-hot fire roils through his very core before shooting out of his maw as pure, concentrated heat— hot enough to melt even the toughest of metals.
Satisfaction ripples along his spine at the sounds of the beasts' screams. Suddenly, he remembers what it feels like to be truly feared, to have whelps pleading for their lives at his feet. But that is not what brings him joy in this moment. No, instead it is the knowledge that back in his gilded cage, a certain cleric will be relieved to know his friends are safe.
And it's all because of him.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
"Holy fuck, did we really just survive a dragon attack?!"
"I think 'survive' is the wrong word— I think it let us live."
"What makes you say that, Lucas?"
"I don't know, it's just… The dragon looked like it knew what it was doing. It avoided crushing Dustin and Jane while killing the other gnolls… It could've chased us through the woods, but it didn't."
"Still, that doesn't mean we should trust it."
"Max is right. And we still have to find my brother."
"Wait, that dragon— you guys don't think…?"
"Dustin, if you're saying what I think you're saying, then we need to rescue Will— and fast."
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Will finds himself drifting between a state consciousness and unconsciousness once more. He feels the cold floor beneath him, his back pressed up against the bars of the cage. He fell asleep here, right where he sobbed— curled up and alone. Just as he's about to sink into his dreams, he hears the cage door open. There's a sound of approaching footsteps that stops as it lands right next to him. He tries to wake himself up, using this as an opportunity to escape while the door is open, but his body won't listen. Then, he feels strong arms wrap around his back and underneath his legs as he's suddenly lifted into the air.
A few more steps, and Will is gently placed back onto the bed with the blankets pulled over him. A few more steps, and he feels the bed dip from the weight of someone sitting on it, just as they did before. Except this time, Will feels the figure climb into the bed and settle close to him. They're laying face to face, and he can feel a warm breath against skin. A tender hand strokes lightly at his cheek.
"I would raze entire cities for you, my dear cleric," says a voice. It sounds oddly familiar, but in the haze of sleep, he can barely place why. "I would slay all your enemies, if it meant keeping you safe."
The bed shifts with movement, and Will feels another body press close to his. An arm is draped over his waist as a face is buried into his neck, breathing him in.
"You've turned me into something I don't recognize. Or maybe something I've long forgotten," the voice whispers.
Will can't help himself from curling closer towards the body heat, starved of skin-to-skin contact. The arm on his waist travels down until a hand settles on his hip, gripping it tightly. A breathy moan escapes his lips involuntarily, and the figure next to him growls— deep and possessive.
"You have breathed a new purpose into my life. You have granted me a gift, and for that, I am grateful."
The figure sighs. "All I ask is that you stay by my side, little bird. So, please—" the voice begs, "please, do not fly away from me…
"William."
His eyes flutter open. When he wakes, he finds no sign of the figure who laid next to him as he slept. As quickly as the warmth of another body settles on his skin, it disappears entirely. Now, he's left cold and alone.
Except, he's not entirely alone.
In the darkness of the chamber, he can see the sleeping form of a dragon. Michael has curled around his cage, resting atop the pile of gold it sits upon. He smells faintly of blood and smoke. Will watches the slow rise and fall of his chest, before his gaze lands on the relaxed expression on his face. He didn't know it was possible for it to look so… gentle. For the first time since he's laid his eyes on him, Will allows himself to fully take in his appearance.
Despite his enormous size, he could tell that Michael is relatively young for a dragon. His black scales shine like polished obsidian. The shape of his head is broad with angular features that could cut through stone. Large horns adorn his head like a crown, and the spines that trail down his neck remind him of a black, flowing mane. But most of all, he finds himself fixated on the dragon's myriad of scars. Pale and jagged lines crisscross over his body and face, much too large and deep to have been caused by mere weapons. No, Will understands the origins of such wounds— they came from other dragons.
He knows that dragons are possessive and territorial creatures. That much is evident by how Michael has treated him so far, as another prize to add to his collection. He also knows that dragons are often solitary creatures— but at this age? If he's not mistaken, a dragon like Michael would still be living with his brood before setting out to find a hoard of his own. And with the amount of treasures that surrounds them, he couldn't have accumulated all of this by himself. Surely, he would have usurped the previous owner of this stash, which is undeniably a remarkable feat for a dragon as young as him. A true accomplishment of a worthy and powerful dragon.
But then— why does Michael seem so… lonely?
Will shakes his head. He has no time to feel pity for his captor. If anything, he should take advantage of the fact that he's asleep, and use it as his chance to escape. He slowly sits up, careful not to make any noise. He has to be quick and quiet, because there's no telling what would happen if he got caught. His bare feet land on the metal floor, and he slowly pads across the cage. He notices that the mess that was there previously has been cleared, the floor left as pristine as it had been, but not by his hand.
Putting him to bed, and then cleaning up the mess he made… No, Will can't think about that right now. He needs to focus on escaping.
He makes it to the cage door and kneels close to the lock. Magic stirs at his fingertips. Normally, a spell like this would require a small incantation, but Will can't risk it. He closes his eyes, concentrating on casting the spell as subtly as he can. He feels blood start to pool out of his nose, but he quickly wipes it away. Then, the lock disengages with a soft click. The door swings open slightly.
Will's heart is racing in his chest. For the first time since getting locked in here, he feels hopeful. There's still that twinge of fear, of course. He has no idea where to go. Even if he leaves the cage, he's still stuck in some underground chamber, surrounded by mounds and mounds of gold coins. Where would the exit even be?
His eyes scan around the darkness, looking for any sign of an escape. Then in the distance, he spots a stairwell. It's about a hundred feet away, but his main problem is the giant obstacle blocking his path: Michael. Asleep, but for how much longer? Will's mind is shouting at him, telling him to gogogo. But he also needs to be careful. There's so much at stake.
He gently nudges the door wider, wincing at the creaking noise it makes.
Michael doesn't stir.
He tiptoes to the edge of the cage, hesitating for a brief moment, before taking his first step outside. His foot lands atop the pile of riches. It's uncomfortable, and Will is careful not to make any unnecessary movements, lest the sound of jingling treasures alert his captor.
He takes another step. A few coins slide down the pile.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Will freezes.
Michael is still asleep.
He takes a few more steps now, feeling a little braver. His eyes are glued to the ground, watching for any sharp or jagged intrusion that could potentially injure him or cause him to trip. As he gets closer to Michael's body, the difference in their sizes is much more notable. It's dizzying to even look up at his form, and this is with him laid out across the gold. He can only imagine how far he towers above him when he stands upright. He shudders at the thought.
His pace quickens. A few more jewels and treasures are kicked to the side as his legs trudge through the hoard, echoing in the distance.
Michael moves slightly.
Will's heart is caught in his throat as dread settles in his stomach. It takes him a minute to calm down and realize that the dragon is merely shifting positions. He goes back to sleeping soundly. Will doesn't move. He waits a little longer, until he's certain Michael has drifted off again. Then, he's on the move once more.
He takes as long of a stride as he can with each step. The stairwell is so close now. At the top, he can see a door. It feels like his entire body is vibrating with adrenaline. He doesn't even dare to look back at the sleeping dragon behind him. As soon as he reaches that first stone step, Will feels like he could cry. He's about to escape.
His legs burn as he ascends. The limbs are not used to so much movement after being stuck in cramped space for the past few nights. After what feels like ages, he reaches the top of the stairwell and is met with a door. He turns the knob— it's not even locked. It's like Michael never expected him to get this far, to ever even leave his cage. He steps through into the next room.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Will breaks into a sprint.
He doesn't even know where he is, nor does he care. He just bursts through door after door, running down every hall to find any sort of exit out of this damn place. He doesn't even care if he's making too much noise at this point. He's so close to being outside, so close to being free.
Somehow, he finally finds his way to the main entry hall again. He finds the stairs he collapsed on, where Michael had found him. He practically stumbles down the steps, nearly falling to his knees at the bottom. He slams shoulder-first into the heavy wooden door to shove it open. He winces at the pain that blooms from his wound, but that feeling quickly fades away as he finally, finally steps outside.
The night air is cool on his skin. Every intake of breath is fresh, filled with the aroma of pine and dirt. The stars twinkle above him, glinting in the cloudless sky.
He's free.
A carefree giggle bubbles out of his throat. He grins, bright and wide, as he laughs in disbelief. He did it, he made it out. He walks towards the treeline, resting a hand against the trunk of a nearby pine. The bark is rough against his fingers, and he feels absolutely hysterical.
For some reason, Will can't help but turn around to look at the castle behind him. He can't stop himself from thinking about what sleeps underneath it. He should be scared, he should be angry at what that beast did to him— and he is.
But for some reason, he also can't get that lonely face out of his mind.
It doesn't matter now. Will is free. He runs into the woods, not caring for what dangers lie hidden within.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Mike slept longer than he meant to. He exerted more energy destroying that gnoll camp than he expected, and he fell asleep as soon as he put William back in his bed and cleaned up his mess. He should've been furious with him; he told him to clean up after himself while he was away. But then Mike saw the cleric curled up against the bars of the cage, exactly as he left him with tear streaks staining his cheeks, and he couldn't bring himself to be mad. He couldn't deny it now— William was making him soft.
His father was right about him.
He wakes before he can allow himself to dream. His dreams are often riddled with memories of his past, so he's made it a point to rouse before he could relive them. It leaves him weak and languid due to the lack of proper rest, but it had never mattered before. His reputation as the Black Death of these woods ensured that no one would bother him or dare step near his castle. He needn't lift a finger to have others cowering in fear from him. His mere presence alone meant he could safeguard his hoard without wasting any extra energy.
It had never mattered before, until now.
And it was all because of him.
Mike has never been more enamored by something in his over a hundred years of living. Suddenly, there was someone in his lonely life worth protecting. Someone to care for.
He stretches his sore muscles as he rises from his perch atop his treasures. He shakes away what remains of the sleep in his system, craning his neck to look down at the cage next to him and—
Mike's breathing stops.
His eyes dart across the gilded cage, scanning each and every inch with a piercing gaze.
He can't find him.
He isn't inside.
The cage door swings open slightly.
He escaped.
William is gone.
Mike slams the cage into the back wall with his clawed hand. It hits the stone with a loud clang, echoing in the chamber. He roars in anger. He breathes bright blue flames into the room, melting any nearby gold until it liquifies.
He is absolutely furious— how could William do this to him? After he's been so patient and careful with him, after he's done all he could to keep him safe and comfortable? He's rescued his friends, murdered his enemies— and this is how he repays him?
"Ungrateful," the dragon growls. "So fucking ungrateful."
Except, despite how angry he is, there's a feeling in his chest much deeper than that.
It's worry.
The forest that surrounds this castle is riddled with monsters and beasts of the night. The gnolls weren't the only danger lurking in the shadows. William is out there somewhere, running through the trees without realizing what he'd gotten himself into. Even if he’s a mage, he wouldn't survive more than a single night alone in these woods.
Mike's anger concentrates into something determined. He stretches his wings once more, rising in the chamber to fly out of the mouth of a connecting cave, and he bursts out into the wilderness. He flies high enough to give himself a better view of his surroundings, his black scales glowing under the moonlight. In the distance, he hears the sounds of a struggle. His gaze follows the source of it, and his eyes land on the sight of sparks and magic rippling through the trees. It's William, he's sure of it. He moves through the skies like a silent shadow.
He lands on the forest floor, and before he even realizes, his form shifts. Leather boots stomp through the dirt, a tattered black cape flowing behind him, and in his hands, a darksteel greatsword. He breaks into the clearing and spots him— William, with gold runes and sigils glowing on his arms as he fires another spell towards an approaching beast. Three dire wolves have him backed against a tree, so intent on stalking him that they haven't noticed the real beast standing behind them.
Mike makes quick work of the closest wolf. His greatsword cuts straight through, steel glinting in the moonlight. The pained whimper that leaves its body as it slumps to the ground draws the attention of the other two wolves. William's gaze snaps to his. His eyes are wide with fear, darting across Mike's features as if he doesn't recognize him. The sight of his gaunt face distracts Mike for a moment, as one of the wolves tackles into his side. Claws and fangs sink into the ribs of his human flesh— he's always hated fighting in this form for this very reason. He shoves back the beast with incredible strength, bones cracking as it slams into the trees. Blood soaks through his clothes and drips to the forest floor, but Mike barely winces.
The last wolf is on the prowl, head hung low as it slowly paces around him. He's in a similar stance, glaring at the wolf with his greatsword in hand. The wolf pounces first, and Mike catches its bite with his blade as it tries to sink its fangs into him. He tosses the wolf to the side, but it quickly recovers and bounds into a sprint. He steps to the side, and with a swift turn of the wrist, he lands a blow on the wolf's side. It howls in pain. Mike turns to it, ready to face it head-on once more and—
"Watch out!" shouts William, and before Mike could react, claws bury deep into his back.
He shouts when he feels teeth clamp down on his neck, a little too close to his jugular for comfort, as the wolf tries to tear at his flesh. He drops his sword, and his hand morphs into something scaled and clawed, grabbing the wolf by the scruff of its neck and trying to throw it off of him. It only bites down further, and Mike feels his vision swim. There's still the other wolf in front of him, licking its chops as it's about ready to pounce at him again.
« Flagra! »
There's a bright burst of golden light, and suddenly the approaching wolf is struck by divine energy. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air as the wolf collapses to the ground. Meanwhile, Mike is finally able to grab the wolf on his back, slamming it to the ground. Before it could recover, he picks up his sword off the forest floor and sinks it into the beast's neck, silencing it once and for all.
Mike feels his heart racing in his chest, his breaths quick and uneven. Each inhale causes his skin to stretch and his wounds to worsen, pain blossoming on his side and his back. But he doesn't care. Rage and fury still burns in his eyes. He hears the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind, and he quickly turns to meet with his assailaint with his sword brandished and pointed— at William.
The young cleric flinches at the weapon. He raises his hands, looking at Mike with a pleading expression.
"Th-thank you for saving me…" he whispers. Mike can hear how his voice wavers, and his chest aches. "Sir, are you okay? Please, let me heal you as repayment."
"We are leaving," Mike growls.
William blinks at him. "W-what?"
Mike doesn't say anything else. He reaches forward and grabs William by his wrist, dragging him back into the woods. "I said we're leaving. I'm taking you back," he says through gritted teeth.
"W-w-wait—" William tries but fails to break out of Mike's grip. "Michael?! Is that you?"
"I told you not to leave. It's dangerous out here in these woods. I'm supposed to keep you safe."
"N-no— Michael, let go of me— I'm not going back!"
Mike pulls hard, bringing William's face close to his as he shouts, "You could've died out here!"
William looks up at him with teary, fearful eyes.
"I keep you locked in a cage to keep you safe, William. If I wasn't here to save you, you would've become a meal to those mutts."
William scowls. "I didn't ask to be saved— just like how I didn't ask to be taken by you in the first place!"
Mike grits his teeth. "We are not having this conversation again. You are going back in that cage where I can keep an eye on you."
"I would rather die out here to the wolves that rot it that fucking cage!" William spits. Tears streak down his cheeks as he continues to struggle against Mike's grip, but it's futile. "Let me go! Please, Michael— just let me go!"
Mike doesn't respond. He continues marching onwards, dragging William through the woods. Searing pain burns spots into his vision, but he shakes it off. Eventually, he grows tired of William digging his feet into the soil, so he hoists him into onto his shoulder, arm wrapped tightly around his middle. William resorts to flailing his limbs, kicking him in the back or pounding at his chest with his fists. He winces when each hit strikes him in his wounds. But again, Mike pays it no mind. He will recover as soon as he gets back to the castle.
William only wails louder when the castle walls come into view. His hits become weaker as he delves into deep sobs, tears soaking through Mike's cloak. Something tears at his chest at the noise he makes, somehow more painful than the injuries he sports. He only means to keep him safe, Mike keeps telling himself.
As soon as the oaken doors shut behind them, Mike falls to his knees. The pain is too much to bear, and in his moment of weakness, William falls out of his grasp. He scrambles to get up before Mike could recover and immediately bolts for the door again. Mike barely gets up to one knee before he realizes he doesn't have the strength to get up. He curses himself— how can three wolves have damaged him this badly? Has he really been out of battle for this long? Why did he even choose to fight in his human form anyway?
"Wait!" he chokes out, arm outstreched as he tries to reach for William. His vision blurs. He feels lightheaded. He clutches at his side, where blood spills freely from his wounds.
William gets the door open again. He's about to run away. He's slipping from Mike's grasp once more.
But he stops.
Mike can barely see the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, heaving and unsure. His back is turned to him, head tilted up to the stars in the night sky above. For a moment, he doesn't move.
Then, slowly, he turns back to Mike.
The last thing he sees before falling unconscious is William’s pained expression. Then, Mike collapses to the ground.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻