Chapter Text
Heat flooded the room, radiating out from the foreman in waves. The air around them went dry, crackling with energy that made the hair on Logan’s arms stand on end.
He swallowed thickly, trying to clear the taste of Ozone from the back of his throat.
Eloise’s firelight eyes narrowed, a silent order.
Stand. Down.
Logan straightened up, letting his hands uncurl at his sides. Angry, red crescents throbbed against his palms where his nails had dug in. He slipped his hands into his cloak, hiding them as they healed.
Wade still had his Katana halfway drawn. He seemed frozen, staring at the foreman, his jaw slack.
“How long were you going to hide that?!” He screeched. “What the shit?!”
“Language,” Piotr rumbled.
Eloise just shook her head, unbothered. The amber glow faded from her eyes, leaving her irises as dark as coal. She fell back into her chair, arms crossed.
“How long were you planning on hiding that?” She snipped, nodding at Wade. “The mask makes it obvious, by the way.”
Wade scoffed and slid his katana back into its scabbard. “At least I’m not sitting on my arse getting other people to fight my battles for me. You’re literally a walking inferno.”
Eloise rolled her eyes. “Colby,” she called.
“Yes, Foreman!” The poor boy trembled from head to toe, hands white-knuckled around the handle of his pick axe. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Wade but leaned away from him as though he was still afraid of catching something.
“Go fix us some food.” Eloise dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
Logan expected the boy to argue. Any soldier worth his rank would never dream of leaving their superiors with a pair of strangers, let alone a pair of Witchbreeds.
He’d forgotten that Colby was not a soldier. Just some scared child.
The boy’s shoulders sagged and he let out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, Foreman.” He was out the door in a flash.
Logan turned his attention to Eloise. “How many Witchbreeds are there?” He asked.
Eloise’s lips thinned. “Now? Two.” She gestured to Piotr.
The taller man straightened up. The change started at the centre of Piotr’s chest and spread outward. In seconds he stood before Logan and Wade, not as a man of flesh and blood, but of shining metal.
Wade whistled. “Talk about abs of steel.” He stepped forward, knocking his fist against Piotr’s chest. The action made a loud clank and Wade bit back a squeak of pain, shaking out his hand.
Logan scratched at his stubble. “And the rest?”
When Eloise remained silent, it was Piotr who explained.
“Most used their powers to help out in the mines,” he said. “Made things easier, Witchbreed and human working together.”
It also made them easy pickings for the dragon, Logan added wordlessly. He scrubbed his hand down his face. It had all become too complicated. He was no fool, he’d known from the start that slaying a dragon would be no easy feat. He’d been prepared for that.
He had not prepared for other Witchbreeds.
“We shared ours,” Piotr continued, giving Wade a small nod.
Wade’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Well, if you must know, I’m the perfect dragon-fighting machine.” He held up his hand, fingers splayed to show that Piotr’s metal skin had left two of his fingers bent out of shape. One by one the bones popped and snapped back into place.
Piotr’s eyes widened. “udivitel'nyy!”
“Impressed?” Wade asked with a smile. “Wait until you see what my friend here can do. He’s—“
“Fire,” Logan cut him off. The word came out louder than he’d intended it to. He fixed Wade with a hard, warning, glare. “My body… it’s… fire don’t hurt me.” It was a dangerous gamble. He could only hope that Eloise didn’t try to test his word.
Wade twisted his lip, looking like a child whose toy had just been ripped from them. Beneath that indignant scowl, subtle enough that only Logan could pick up on it, was confusion.
Why lie?
Eloise chewed at the liquorice root. “Convenient.”
“It’s the reason we took the job,” Logan added with a shrug. He pushed the topic aside. “The dragon, is it still in the mine? Point us to it and we’ll be out of your…” he trailed off, gaze flicking to the girl’s shorn and blistered scalp.
Piotr saved him from embarrassment. “But you have only just arrived!” He cried. “You must be exhausted. Rest is important, cannot fight dragon without it, it would be suicide.”
There was something of Hank in the way the young man spoke. A little of Scott too, though Logan figured he’d’ve been less polite about it.
“The iron giant makes an excellent point,” Wade said, elbowing his way forward. He set his hands on the desk, leaning over Eloise. “And it gives us time to talk about payment. I’m thinking a thousand now, a thousand once we turn the dragon into handbag leather?”
Eloise shook her head, unfazed by Wade’s closeness. “Seven-hundred-and-fifty, plus whatever’s in the hoard.”
“Uh. Exqueez me?” Wade cocked his head. “The notice said two thousand.”
“I’m not wasting more gold on two people who might not come back. Not with winter on its way,” Eloise said simply. “You want the full amount? Feel free to pick through the dragon’s stomach for it.”
Wade scowled. “I find your lack of faith disturbing,” he said. “If a walking explosion and the freaking tin man are gonna sit on their arses and let us risk our lives, I think we deserve compensation.”
Eloise’s expression hardened and the bitter, crackling scent of her power tickled Logan’s nose.
“Wade,” he warned, at the same time Piotr snapped out, “Eloise!”
The fool and the foreman’s gazes turned on them. “What?!” They snapped in unison.
Piotr tapped a finger to his temple, gesturing to his eyes.
Eloise blinked away embers.
Logan spoke up. “It wouldn’t be safe,” he explained to Wade. He’d spent years of his life working in the mines. He knew firsthand how fickle the supports could be. How easily entire networks of tunnels could collapse. “You can’t bring a tinderbox down there. You’d be asking for trouble.”
Wade crossed his arms, even more the petulant child. “What about the Ros?” He asked, jabbing an accusing finger at Piotr. “Bet he could suplex the thing in a second. Hell, I’d pay you guys to watch.”
Piotr seemed to deflate. His expression shifted. Not quite frustration, not quite shame, but something in between.
“Do you think I haven’t tried?” He asked, his thick voice booming. It was such a sudden change from the teen’s friendly demeanour that even Logan was startled.
Wade fumbled, shying back.
Piotr realised himself then. His mouth snapped shut, tensed shoulders forced back down. “My apologies,” he said. “The last few weeks have taken their toll.” He shot the foreman a quick glance, a silent question that Logan couldn’t quite decipher.
Whatever it was, Eloise seemed to understand. She nodded for Piotr to continue, though she didn’t seem happy about it.
“I was with the foreman when the dragon attacked,” Piotr explained. The metal coating of his skin began to disappear. “I tried to search for survivors, get them out, but the beast…it was like the hells opened. Fire like nothing before.” Piotr turned his back to Logan and Wade, reached behind his head, and wrenched up his tunic by the back of his collar. “I got the foreman to safety, but I was caught in the dragon’s breath.” He raised his tunic, exposing a hideous explosion of marred flesh. The half-healed burn spread across his shoulders and down to his mid-back.
Logan set his jaw. “You were in your…” he hesitated, unsure of how to describe the Witchbreed’s power. “Your other form?”
Piotr let his shirt fall back into place and nodded. He was almost sheepish.
It hit Logan then, just how young the boy was. Older than the Foreman, yes, and older than the rest of the town’s makeshift guard, but still no older than twenty at most.
Logan crossed his arms. Thinking.
“Did it have horns?” He asked finally.
Piotr turned back to face him. “What?”
“The dragon. I need to know, did it have horns? Or was its head round at the crown?”
Eloise leaned forward. “It did,” she said. “Why?”
“Because that means it’s male. That’s good. Females lay their eggs ‘round this time of year.” Logan scratched his chin as he spoke. “This one’s male…no chance of it getting territorial over its eggs. How big was it?”
“About the size of a wolf,” Piotr answered, raising his hand to show the creature’s height.
Wade actually looked disappointed. “That small?”
Logan explained, “It’s part of what makes dragons so dangerous. Folks think they’re these massive beasts, but ones that size are hard to come by. People see one thinks this and they underestimate them, then—“
“Barbecue,” Wade said solemnly. “What? Too soon?”
Logan ignored him. “Going off its size, the thing’s mature. The fact that anyone got out alive is…” the word miracle didn’t do it justice. An angry adult dragon in such a small space? It should have been a death sentence.
“You know a great deal,” Piotr said.
Logan had to pick his next words very carefully. “I worked with someone who was interested in them.” Not a lie, not the entire truth either. These people didn’t need to know that not only had the Knights of Xavier been interested in dragons, they’d had one of their very own.
“You should have brought them with you,” Eloise said. “More useful than the clown.”
Logan’s mouth formed a hard line. “He’s dead.”
Wade winced. “Oof.”
Logan lowered his gaze. Kept it squarely on the floor, he needed to concentrate on something other than ripping Wade’s head off.
“Ah.” Piotr stepped forward, clamping a hand on Wade’s shoulder. “Colby takes his time. We should go help, Wade.” His tone made it clear that this wasn’t a request. “Leave the dragon talk to them.”
Before Wade had a chance to get a word in, Piotr had taken him by both shoulders. He moved Wade as easily as a doll, shoving him out the office door. “We will be right back, Foreman.”
Eloise waved a hand to him, almost as though she was shooing him and Wade away. Once the door closed shut behind them, she drew in a quick, shallow breath.
It was a long, painful moment before Logan realised she was waiting for him to talk. He shifted from one foot to the other and got the distinct feeling that neither of them was all that fond of talking.
Finally, he spoke. “I’ll need maps.”
—-
Wade was being watched.
“Huh,” he said with a smile. “That’s new. Wolvie got too boring for you?”
“What are you talking about? Piotr asked. He’d shifted back into his metallic form. Maybe he just felt more comfortable that way, maybe it was his attempt at making Wade feel less like a sore thumb.
Because yeah, being shown up by a literal man of steel. That would make him feel soooo much better. Thanks, Piotr!
“Sooooo,” Wade hummed. He pulled the baby knife from his belt, cleaning under his nails with the tip of the blade. “You’re pretty far from Rossiia, huh Comrade?” He let his voice into a mockery of Piotr’s accent. “What’s a strapping young man like you doing in a dump like this?”
Piotr straightened up. He already towered over all of them for fuck’s sake. Show off! “This place is no dump,” he said with pride usually reserved for somewhere other than a frozen and burned-out husk.
“Sure sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. But I bet ya’ didn’t travel a billion miles to set up shop in another snowy, sad slice of heaven, right?”
Piotr’s strides were so long that Wade had to walk at double speed just to keep up.
“This town is no dump,” Piotr repeated. “They are kind and hardworking people.”
“Buuuuuut?” Wade asked.
Piotr huffed. “But it was not my original goal, no.”
“Because that waaaaaas?”
“Westchester,” Piotr spoke the name like it belonged to a precious jewel. “Even in the Empire, we’d heard tales of goings on out in Ventra. About how your rulers feared Witchbreeds instead of recognising their good.”
“Not my people, not my rules,” Wade corrected, tapping his chest. “Kanatan, born and bred.”
Piotr’s expression softened. “Good people. We traveled through your kingdom for some time before arriving here.
“But we had heard about Ventra. About her Holy Order and her kings and her Knights of Fury. From traders mostly, you understand. And then we heard of others, knights who fought back! Witchbreeds who sought to aid all—Witchbreeds and humans alike.” Piotr’s eyes sparkled. “The Knights of Xavier.”
Something twisted in Wade’s gut. Something smack-dab between excitement and anxiety. “Who?” He asked, trying to sound all nonchalant and cool.
“Who?!” Piotr’s laugh echoed through the halls of the inn. “You are funny, Wade Wilson. If we know of them in Rossiia, then Kanata must too.”
“Mmm. I dunno. I don’t keep up with pop culture.”
It was clear by the way Piotr shook his head that he did not believe Wade for a second. “You mercenaries. Strange people.”
Wade cleared his throat. “So you came to Ventra to join… what did you call them? Knights of Behaviour?”
“Xavier.”
“It’s the accent, Tinman. It’s all Greek to me.”
Piotr shook his head again. “That was our plan, yes.”
“I’m sensing another but.”
“But when we crossed over the mountains we stayed here a few weeks. To rest while winter thawed. But when the ice melted and the merchants returned to town…” he sighed. “It’s grim talk, Wade Wilson. Not something to hear before supper. Will ruin in your appetite.”
For once in his life, Wade didn’t push further. Partly because he already knew how this story ended. Grim news about the Knights of Xavier? Filling in the blanks there wasn’t exactly rocket science…not that anyone but him even knew what rocket science was.
But also, because they’d almost reached the kitchens and—sweet baby Jesus, the smell! It made it hard to think about anything else.
The kitchen door swung open and Colby stepped out, a steaming bowl of soup in either hand. He yelped when he saw Wade, then yelped again when hot soup splattered over his hand.
“Careful, Colby.” Piotr took one of the bowls from him. “Let me help.”
“You’re not scaring Colby, are you, Bratishka?” A voice called out from behind the kitchen door.
A second later a girl stepped out. Young, only about eight or nine, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She stopped dead when she saw Wade. Her mouth dropped open, but unlike Colby, she actually managed to keep her composure.
“Illyana,” Piotr said. “This is Wade. He’s here to fight the dragon.” He turned to Wade. “This is my sister, Illyana.”
Riiiight. He’d said we traveled, not I.
Wade offered Illyana a wide smile, which only managed to make the poor girl look even more uncomfortable.
“Don’t be rude,” Piotr scolded.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Wade bent down so that he was at Illyana’s eye level. “Do you know why I look like this?”
Illyana shook her head.
“Vegetables! Momma Deadpool always told me, ‘You gotta eat your vegetables, Wade!’ But I never did!” He slumped over in a melodramatic picture of regret. “Now look at me!”
Illyana blinked. Snorted. Then laughed. “That’s not true!” She giggled.
Wade slapped his hands to his cheeks. “Are you calling me a liar?! How dare you!” Finally, someone who appreciated his jokes.
—
“You know, with how these things go I was expecting one bed,” Wade said, flopping down onto his mattress.
Because of both the late time of year and the looming threat of the dragon, Acmeore’s local tavern and inn wasn’t exactly full. Logan had considered asking for separate rooms, but he knew Wade well enough to know that the fool wouldn’t be content spending the night in his own bed. Whether Logan had an issue with that or not. So, with a grumble, he’d settled for a room with two singles.
“We could push them together,” Wade added. He lay on his side, head propped up on one hand, the other resting on his hip. “We could have a slumber party! I’ll paint your claws. You’d suit pink, I bet. Really bring out your eyes.”
Logan let him ramble and made sure the door was firmly latched and locked. Once he’d given it a good rattle he finally slipped off his cloak and and armour, sighing with relief.
The Foreman’s office had just gotten warmer and warmer the longer they talked. Something that wasn’t helped when Piotr and Wade returned with food and a toddler in tow.
Wade watched from his spot on the bed as Logan wrapped the cloak around his armour, stashing the bundle deep underneath his bed.
“The Ros is a big fan of yours, you know?” He said. “Full on fanboy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Bub,” Logan replied. Would anyone think to check under his bed? Did they even have any reason to? He doubted a town like this would have the extra hands for a housekeeper.
“The colossus, he told me. He and his sister came to Ventra cause of you. ‘Cause of the Knights of Xavier.”
Logan tensed. “We ain’t knights, Bub.”
“Psh. Yeah yeah, rules rules.” Wade blew a raspberry. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “He wanted to join you guys. Travelled all the way from fucking Rossiia! You should’ve heard him. Damn, if he knew who you are—“
“He doesn’t,” Logan growled. “He won’t.”
Wade threw up his arms with a great, heaving sigh. “The woe-is-me shtick is getting old, Logan!”
Logan whirled on him, hand raised in a tight fist, his claws out. “Shut your fucking mouth.” His eyes darted to the door, as though he expected someone to burst in and confront them. When no one did, he stalked towards Wade, eyes dark. “The Knights of Xavier are fucking dead,” he growled. With Wade sat down, Logan finally had the chance to stand over him.
The chance to dig his claws in. Finally force it through Wade’s thick, hollow skull.
Logan’s anger sparked. Blazed. Spluttered.
He withdrew his claws.
“I’m not doing this again,” he said. I can’t keep doing this again, he added wordlessly.
Logan slunk back to his bed and crawled under the covers. It was nothing fancy, just a straw mattress, but after years spent roughing it on hard ground it felt unbelievably luxurious. Soft. Uncomfortably so. Like he’d sink right through it if he wasn’t careful.
Wade talked. Whinged. Wined.
Logan didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. He was too busy chewing over what Wade had said before.
Was it true? Had that boy and his sister really traveled all that long, hard way just for them?
Them, not me, he told himself.
Piotr was young, twenty at most. How old had he been when he waved his homeland goodbye? Gods, how old had his sister been?
The thought made Logan sick. He knew in his heart of hearts that Charles would have taken them in, welcomed them with open arms and a home to call their own, just like he’d done with every hapless Witchbreed who crossed his path.
Just like he had with Logan, all those years ago.
And it would have gotten them both killed.
Wade thought Piotr would be happy to learn who Logan was. To know he was amid the Wolverine. Only, that wasn’t who Logan was anymore.
No. Logan was the man who turned his back and let the Knights of Xavier die.
—
Eloise and the others waved Logan and Wade off the next morning.
If Piotr had had his way he would have accompanied them all the way to the mine, just to make sure they’d got there safely, but Illyana had been having none of it.
“If I can’t go outside, you can’t either!”
She was a good kid, Logan thought. Piotr was too, even if he did seem a little too ready to jump headfirst into a fight he couldn’t win.
He’d have fit into the Knights perfectly.
Logan hated him for that.
The mine had been dug into the south side of the mountain, only a half-hour trek from the town itself. No wonder the guards had been so paranoid, it would take the dragon minutes for the dragon to reach them and less to burn the whole place to the ground.
The mineshafts themselves were great winding things, a labyrinth of tunnels cut deep into the mountain. If the dragon was smart enough, it could avoid Logan and Wade altogether. Slip out of one trundle while they were stuck walking circles ‘round one another. If it truly wanted to, the dragon could raze the entire town and they’d be none the wiser.
That was the most terrifying thing about dragons, in Logan’s opinion. The things weren’t mindless beasts. They had a good head on their shoulders, could think and plan and fool.
Most of the trees surrounding the entrance to the mine were charred black. Wade poked at a fallen branch with his foot. It disintegrated into ash almost immediately.
Logan checked the foreman’s map, grunted, and nodded. He gave the sight a once over, making completely certain that Piotr hadn’t followed them before he set down his pack and let his cloak fall from his shoulders. He sniffed the air, nothing but charcoal and ash.
Eloise and Piotr had given them both a lantern, which they held high as they descended into the mine. Not that they did much good, illuminating only a few feet ahead of them at a time.
“Can’t you see in the dark or something?” Wade asked, not even trying to keep quiet.
“Shh,” Logan hissed.
“Oh, come on,” Wade whined. “It’s not like we’re going for surprise here.” He shook his lantern, sending dancing shadows up the tunnel wall. The flame clung to the wick for dear life but miraculously didn’t go out.
Logan rolled his eyes. “No,” he grunted. “I can’t.”
Wade tutted. “Someone could. Figures I get stuck with you and not them.” There was no malice to the fool’s words. His tone was casual, good-natured even, but it still stung.
Logan’s grip tightened on his lantern. “The elf,” he said. “You’re thinking of him, not me.”
“Who?”
“The Nightcrawler.”
Things would be so much easier if Kurt was there. They could let him blend in with the shadows and sneak ahead. He could’ve found out exactly where the dragon was, then they wouldn’t have to go in so blind.
Thoughts of the Knights clawed their way into Logan’s mind. Kitty would do well here too, all he’d need to do was slip through the walls and—
No. Logan pushed the thoughts away. The past didn’t matter. The past could wait.
He kept his head tilted back as they walked and sniffed the air at regular intervals. So far, it was all dirt, mixed with the odd tinge of metal or stink of burned flesh.
Twice, they came across bodies. Charred husks clothed with ash and dirt. One had its arms stretched out, as though it was trying to claw its way along the ground as it burned.
The corpses were stone cold. Too old to be the attempted dragon slayers, probably just miners who hadn’t made it out in time. Logan wondered, dimly, if the bodies belonged to Eloise’s parents. Again, he shoved the thought away.
As they passed the bodies, Logan waited for Wade to make some kind of joke, for him to try and lighten the mood, but the fool just stayed silent.
Finally, after an age of fumbling through the dark, a new scent met Logan’s nose. Something sharp and sulphurous.
Kurt?
The hair on Logan’s arms prickled.
“Move!” He screamed, throwing down his lantern and leaping at Wade. He pushed the other Witchbreed flat against the wall just as a torrent of fire erupted from the dark.
Logan bared his teeth, choking back a cry of pain. Heat flooded across his back, pure and blinding agony. The bitter smell of freshly burning skin and hair attacked his senses.
The stink of Father Kelly’s holy fire. Of the pyre. Of the Xavier estate and the bodies left stacked up like firewood—
“Peanut?”
Logan felt Wade’s breath against his cheek. He looked up and the dragon’s flame cut off. After the constant roar of fire, the mine fell deathly quiet.
Logan realised he’d dug his fingers into Wade’s shoulders. Gripped them tight enough to leave bruises. He drew in a short breath and let go, pushing away from Wade.
Stupid.
Fucking stupid!
He’d known Wade would be fine, he’d seen him survive worse. Why had he jumped at him like that?
His lantern had been upturned when he’d thrown it, the wick smothered by the spilled paraffin that pooled over the dirt floor. The only light they had was Wade’s, which was barely enough to see by.
Wade moved slowly, setting down his lantern and drawing his swords. The sound echoed through the tunnel.
Somewhere in the dark, the dragon waited.
“Can it see us?” Wade whispered.
Logan didn’t dare speak. He didn’t even breathe. Just nodded.
Wade rolled his shoulders. “Shit.”
Light split the blackness before them. A slice of flame that grew steadily taller as the dragon opened its mouth.
“Go!” Logan snapped.
Both men bolted to the sides of the tunnel just in time for the blast to pass them. Logan winced as pain pulsed across his back. The burn had already started to heal.
Dragons couldn’t keep their breath burning indefinitely, eventually, they would need to stop and suck down more air. When it did, the Witchbreeds made their move.
The pair moved erratically, jolting from right to left and back again, never approaching the dragon straight on. It was the same technique Logan used to dodge archers, a moving target always proved more difficult to hit.
Again, Logan saw a spark of flame ahead of them, growing wider. The closer he got to the end of the tunnel, the more his eyes adjusted to the dark. If he squinted he could just about make out the creature crouching in the shadows.
Wade threw himself to the floor, flat on his stomach, just as a ball of fire flew over his head. Logan shoved his back against the wall, dodging the blast.
This time, Logan counted in his head, marking the time between bales of dragon fire.
After the count of five, the dragon stopped sucking down air.
Six. Seven.
The shadowy figure dropped open its maw.
Eight. Nine.
A living furnace blazed at the back of its throat.
Ten!
Logan grabbed Wade’s belt and yanked him away from the wall of flames.
“Toasty!” Wade chirped, patting smoulders from his sleeve. “I shoulda brought marshmallows.”
“Count of Ten,” Logan said quickly. “We have ‘till the count of ten, so shut your fucking mouth!”
Wade put two fingers to his brow in salute.
The pair pushed off from the wall. They had one chance at their plan. One chance or things would get very ugly.
Logan bolted down the tunnel ahead of Wade. He could almost see the creature now.
A winged lizard, crouched low against the ground, scales glistening in the light of his breath.
Those scales were the problem. Thousands of interlocking pieces over a hide at least four inches thick. Even for adamantium weapons, landing a killing blow would be difficult.
The only reliable weak spot was the soft underbelly, the thing the dragon kept so close to the ground. To kill it, one would have to haul the beast onto its side to expose its stomach. A feat that would be impossible without being burned to ash in the process.
Which was where Logan came in.
As the dragon’s mouth dropped open, Logan raised his arm and jammed it between the creature’s gnashing fangs. Its mouth snapped shut in a second and Logan heard the dragon’s hiss with surprise as its jaw closed on unbreakable bone.
Even without flame, the dragon’s breath seared Logan’s flesh. He forced the creature’s head up, his free hand planted under its chin as he hauled the dragon up onto his back legs.
With its belly exposed, all Wade would have to do was land the killing strike.
Logan winced against the heat as the dragon drew in another breath, preparing to blast him point-blank. Logan’s eyes watered as the flame grew within its mouth, finally illuminating the dragon’s face.
Violet scales. Pupiless, white-hot eyes. Lips peeled back and teeth soaked with blood.
Logan’s heart thudded against his ribs.
This wasn’t just the snarling face of a creature, but of something—someone—he knew well.
—
“Lockheed’s already on it, professor!”
“Lockheed?”
“My dragon!”
After all the Knights of Xavier had been through—the fighting, the questing, the things divine and fae and unholy in equal measure—they really shouldn’t have been surprised when Kaden Pryde emerged from the cellar with a dragonling wrapped around his shoulders like a cat. He’d only gone down there to check for rats.
The squire been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. He’d explained, like the other Knights should obviously know already, that Lockheed had followed them home from a previous quest, that he’d only stolen from them because he was hungry, and that he was going to stay with them from then on.
Logan had always liked that about Kitty. It endeared and annoyed him in equal measure.
Endeared when Kitty had stood before the Knights and explained that he was going to continue his training as Kaden, not Katherine.
Annoyed when he did something stupid like getting himself captured and leaving Logan to haul his arse home. Which happened far too often in Logan’s opinion.
Yes, of all those who pledged themselves to Charles Xavier’s service, Kaden Pryde was the one most likely to befriend such a dangerous creature.
He had been Logan’s squire, after all.
His face was also the one Logan buried deepest. He’d pushed away the image of that blank-eyed corpse, the smallest that Logan had found among the estate ruins.
Pushed away how he’d never told his squire all the ways he’d made his teacher proud.
—
“Wade, stop!”
But Logan could already hear Wade’s approach. Logan pushed Lockheed to the ground, throwing himself over him in an attempt to shield the dragon from Wade.
Pain bloomed against Logan’s back and he staggered as the edge of the katana erupted from his chest.
“What the fuck?!” Wade snapped, yanking his sword from Logan’s back.
Logan turned to face him, putting himself between the fool and Lockheed. He couldn’t let Wade hurt him. He couldn’t!
Logan’s thoughts were a manic blur.
Something else had survived! He wasn’t alone!
“Stop!” He cried. “Don’t hurt him!” Logan tried to explain, but the words stuck in his throat.
Claws sank deep into his shoulders, raking through his flesh.
Logan ducked down, throwing Lockheed over his shoulders. The dragon slammed against the wall and went sprawling. It hissed and writhed on the ground, trying to get back on his feet.
“What the fuck?!” Wade cried again.
“Don’t hurt him,” Logan repeated, even as blood wept from twin wounds on his shoulders.
“He’s trying to hurt us!” Wade said.
Only, that wasn’t entirely the truth.
Lockheed crouched low against the earth. Smoke and embers peeled from his lips. With a single flap of his wings, he launched himself at Logan, jaw snapping.
It was as though Wade no longer existed.
Logan tasted blood as Lockheed’s fangs sank deep into the soft skin of his throat. He wrenched the dragon off him, throwing him down once again.
“Lockheed!” Blood bubbled from the gash at his throat as he screamed. It was no use trying to reason with the creature.
As quickly as Logan pushed him back, Lockheed was back on his feet, readying another attack. There were no flames this time. Just tooth and claw. Flesh and blood. Hisses and great, ragged, howls of pain.
Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw Wade raise his sword again. Once more, Logan twisted his body, throwing himself in front of Wade’s blade.
He could deal with the pain.
He would not be responsible for the death of another Knight. Not again.
Lockheed’s growls and cries became more desperate. Higher. Sharper. Spitting blood with each growl and hiss and snap of his jaws.
Finally, his teeth dug into Logan’s forearm once more. This time, his fangs caught on the metal bone. Lockheed hung there, back legs limp, hissing out bubbles of blood.
Slowly, Logan lowered himself to one knee and let the dragon come to rest on the ground.
Lockheed had grown in the years since the massacre, had become an adult.
Now that he was closer, Logan could make out rough, raised scars along his back. He ran his fingers over raised scales and wondered if any of the scars had been from that night. Lockheed was no coward, not like Logan. He would have stood by his human family as long as he could. Stayed by Kaden’s side until the last of them fell.
“I’m sorry,” Logan said. He pressed his fingers under Lockheed’s jaw, wrenching him free. One of the dragon’s fangs stayed lodged in his flesh, as long as one of Logan’s fingers. He pulled it out too, letting the tooth lay flat on his palm. “I’m sorry,” He said again.
Lockheed didn’t attack, just lay on the ground, panting heavily. The scales around his mouth were wet with Logan’s blood.
Lockheed threw back his head and let out a strained, mournful cry.
Logan slumped down beside him. “I miss ‘em too,” he murmured. “I miss him too.”
—
“Small fucking world,” Wade muttered for the twentieth time. He’d gone back down the tunnel to collect his lantern, setting it before the three of them.
Lockheed lay beside Logan, but still kept a good distance. His pupilless eyes moved back and forth between Wade, Logan, and the mouth of the tunnel. Despite his clear exhaustion, his body was still tense, prepared to dark back into the dark labyrinth of the mine at any sign of trouble.
It made sense for him to be weary about people, but still, it made Logan’s heart ache.
“What we gonna tell them?” Wade asked, plonking himself down, legs crossed. He’d been singed in the fight and while any burns healed, the ruff of his shirt was black and smouldering at the edges. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, leaving black smudges. “Sorry, we didn’t kill the dragon. We know he killed your loved ones and beset your only stream of income, but he’s real nice we promise!”
Lockheed hissed in objection.
Logan reached out to him and tried, gingerly, to pet his head. Lockheed shied back from his touch. At least he hadn’t tried to bite this time.
“Humans destroyed his home,” Logan pointed out, letting his hand fall back to his lap. “He’s a wild animal. You can’t get mad when it acts on its nature.” He turned the fang around and around on his palm. “You gotta stop doing this, Bub.”
Wade cocked his head. “Doing what? Speaking the truth?”
Logan scowled. “Not you.” He turned, facing Lockheed. Yes, dragons were wild things, but Logan was too. When knew, firsthand, that being wild didn’t mean one couldn’t learn. “I know you’re angry. I know you think they deserve it—hells, some of ‘em do—but going after innocent folks…it’s not gonna make it stop hurting.” He lowered his voice so that Wade wouldn’t overhear. “It’s not going to bring him back.” Logan raised his hands. “If you wanna hurt the person responsible, he’s right here, but you’re not going to get the outcome you want. Trust me.”
Lockheed arched his back like a cat preparing to pounce. For a moment, Logan thought he was about to attack again, but Lockheed just bared his teeth and sank back to the floor.
He looked exhausted. Logan could sympathise with that, his joints ached where the adamantium weighed most heavily.
They’d been down in the mines for a while now. Eloise and Piotr probably thought they were dead.
Logan wasn’t stupid. He knew Lockheed couldn’t stay in Acmeore.
Wade leaned forward. “What ya’ thinking about?”
“Shut up,” Logan snapped.
Wade grinned. In the flickering lantern light, that wide-toothed smile was truly disturbing. “Fine. I guess you‘ll never get to hear my absolutely amazing idea.
—
Logan set the fang down on the table before Eloise. He kept his gaze lowered as he spoke. “This got stuck in my armour, it’s all we could get. If you want we can take you where the tunnel fell in, but I don’t think there’ll be anything to find.”
When he and Wade had limped into town, covered in blood and soot and sweat, they’d heard folk muttering about how much the ground had shaken. Most thought the collapse was the result of some great battle, but Logan knew better. He’d watched Wade march from support beam to support beam. Knocking on one, nudging another until he’d identified the right weak spots. Then it was simply a matter of letting Lockheed burn them from a safe distance.
In seconds all that was left of the tunnel was a clog of rubble and splinters.
The most arduous part of the whole thing had been squinting over the map to work out which of the mine’s many offshoots and dead ends would cause the least amount of structural damage to the other tunnels.
“If that thing ain’t dead,” Wade chirped, “I’ll eat my mask. We’re lucky to be alive!” He pulled on his shredded and smouldered outfit for emphasis.
Eloise narrowed her eyes.
The whole situation was flimsy and Logan knew it. No visible injuries. No body. Wade’s ‘amazing plan’ would fall apart the moment she started picking at it. They just had to hope she’d leave it be, be content that Acmeore had its mines back, and move one.
Logan pulled the map out from under his cloak and laid it out beside the tooth. He tapped one of the larger chambers, leaving a black smudge on the parchment. “The thing’s hoard was mostly raw metals. Probably dug it out itself.”
That wasn’t a lie. Lockheed had managed to build himself quite the collection in his short time there. He hadn’t been happy about leaving it behind, flopping down and refusing to budge until Wade lamented and let him carry out a hunk of raw iron in his claws.
As frustrating as it had been, it was a touch of mischief that made Logan think back to the catlike dragonling he used to be.
“I know the notice said we could keep whatever we found,” Logan continued. “But we couldn’t use any of it.”
“But we’d still like the two thousand gold,” Wade added. “We did almost die, ya know. It’s the least we could do.”
Logan shot Wade a withering look.
“What?” He asked. “Business is business and a deal’s a deal!”
They ended up with a little over five hundred gold.
Logan thought that was fair enough since they hadn’t come back with a corpse.
Wade, firmly, did not, but there was no use in complaining.
Logan didn’t really care about the money, but as Eloise and Piotr counted coins he found himself saying, “I’ll take the tooth too.”
Piotr beamed and held it out to him. “A trophy!” He boomed. “For a battle well fought.”
Despite the long journey it had taken to arrive at Acmeore, Wade and Logan only stayed there three days.
The right thing to do would be to wait a while. Rest and help the townsfolk secure the mines and collect their dead. But Logan knew the longer they stayed, the sooner someone would catch a peek at his armour and put two and two together.
With a heavy pack and pouch full of coins, he and Wade set off once more.
“Do you think he’ll be okay out there?” Wade asked and gestured to the mountains that sliced through the ice-blue sky.
“Okay?” Logan echoed, brows furrowed.
Wade sighed and rolled his eyes. “Right…You know? Do you think he’ll be alright?”
Logan cupped the dragon fang that hung from a cord around his neck. Illyana had fixed it for him. “He’s survived this long,” he said.
As much as he’d have liked to bring Lockheed with them, it just wasn’t feasible. Wade drew enough attention as it was and the days where Lockheed could be easily hidden away in a bag or under the hood of a cloak were long gone. Besides, the dragon clearly didn’t want to be near Logan. He hadn’t even let him touch him.
Logan would just have to live with the knowledge that something had survived and hope he kept his nose out of trouble.
“So!” Wade clapped his hands. “Where to next, little guy?”
—
After weeks spent cooped up within the town walls, the forests spread out before Illyana like an endless sea of green.
She was only young, but she bet she knew all the little secret places the Claremont ranges had to offer.
Way more than the other kids could ever hope to find.
Definitely more than Piotr.
Illyana ran through the trees, dodging branches and jumping over roots. Her bag thumped against her leg as she moved. She’d need to be quick, she’d promised Piotr she’d be back by sundown.
Finally, the young girl skidded to a stop outside a hollow where a tree trunk had split open.
“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday,” she said brightly. “I had to help Colby in the kitchens again. But look!” She dug through her bag and pulled out a chunk of bread. She broke it in half and tossed on into the opening.
In a flash of purple, the bread was gone. Caught in midair by a set of sharp and pointed teeth.
Eloise and Piotr said that dragons were dangerous. Illyana wasn’t stupid, she knew the big dragon in the mine had been bad, but that dragon was dead!
She watched with a smile as her new friend crawled out from its hideaway, licking crumbs from its lips.
Her dragon was a nice dragon!
Besides, she doubted something so small could really cause that much trouble…