Chapter Text
Fear wasn’t something he felt. Not since he was a child, scrunched up in a library with the faint flickering of golden candlelight, maintaining baited breath lest he be caught reading forbidden texts. He taunted and teased the Grim Reaper, smile spreading wider the closer to the edge he went. Even when wounds tore his body apart, blood loss causing his vision to swirl and darkness threatening the edges, he couldn’t help but feel euphoric.
Hell, he felt no fear when abandoning his entire life without a sparing glance. When he left his life of pamper in favour of freedom; taking the honoured name of Ajax and carving out a grave with a looming satisfaction. Everything to obtain something he would likely never be able to fully grasp, an uncertain high he craved more than life itself.
Eyes likened to portals of the deepest parts of the sea swirling in molten gold, shimmering yellow pointed and aggressive. He was used to those looks, ones that spoke of mistrust and fear. Its look wasn’t what caused a primal sensation to strangle his throat, dilating his pupils wide as it urged his limbs to run in a desperate pursuit of survival. Adrenaline coursed through his entire body, blood roaring in his ears and pounding his skull.
It was no wonder he felt fear. Eyes cast upon a creature dead for centuries. One he had read about during the hours only the night guards would wake; huddled in the corner as he eagerly consumed every written word.
A Dragon.
“Who are you?” He took a step forward, watching the Dragon pull back, muscles tensed and muzzle curling upwards into a snarl.
A familiar scent of metal hung thickly in the air, one he was painfully familiar with. Dark streaks of red flashed against ochre scales, liquid staining emerald grass and smearing against shrub leaves. It must’ve remained in this curled position for quite a while, blood soaked deep into the ground underneath it.
“Injured…” He muttered under his breath, observing gashes and holes in its flank. The Dragon swirled its tail protectively around itself, gold eyes devoid of emotion.
The fear melted away seeing the creature in such a vulnerable state. Even if it wanted to, as the books spoke of the bloodthirst Dragons’ contained, it couldn’t muster much other than squirming and hissing at him. His brain fired up, confidence sprouting from the ebbed fear. “Childe.”
The Dragon’s expression shifted, eyes squinted for just a moment. A change so quick anyone normal would’ve missed it. He, however, was far from normal. Being trained from the moment he could speak to see even the slightest of emotions and harp on it.
“Childe.” He repeated, clearing his throat as he placed a gloved palm over his heart. A slight bow, mostly out of mock courtesy. “That’s who I am.”
Childe’s grin grew wide, cocky. Excitement bubbled beneath his flesh, searing his blood and seeping into his bones. Without the fear curling its strings around him, he was free to bask in the sight before him.
The Dragon was of a wingless variety with a long and lanky body, a worthy substitute for missing wings. Bright yellow shards shot off the back, a pleasant shine coming through them from the morning sun’s kisses. They were the same colour as the tips of the four horns of which actually glowed, base buried in an amber mane that protected its entire neck. Whiskers defied gravity, ombre from ochre to amber to yellow floating carelessly in the gentle breeze. Specks of gold were mixed under ochre scales, the abundance of gold increasing around Cor Lapis claws and where the tail thinned to a sharp point. The mane and tail fluff looked the same, only difference being the tail hairs were most curled and thin.
“Beautiful…” Childe whispered in awe, eyes blown wide. He had seen drawings of Dragons in the books, but none even came close to what laid in front of him. Confident, he stepped forward, ignoring the faint flinch from the Dragon.
This… this creature was the cause of countless fallen countries; havoc across the land? It was so ridiculous that Childe stifled a laugh. There was no way such a peaceful creature, one full of fear and hesitance, could accomplish something of that feat. His mind reeled, supplying a fuzzy memory from his favourite banished book to read. One that whispered the secrets of Dragons and Dragon Tamer’s, words of truth in which that young child brushed off as humorous exaggerations.
A mark, the book spoke about. A mark that was absolute proof of a bond between human and beast. All marks unique in place, shape, size, colour, and so on so forth. It told that young child about magick manifestations, Dragons being the purest form of such.
But that small child was always a fearful one. He never flipped past that page speaking of such disgusting abominations. Killing the flame as swiftly as he could, silently moving through castle halls with shaky legs as he rushed back to his room.
Maybe I should’ve grabbed the book before I left… Childe pulled off his glove, reaching out his hand slowly and letting it hang midair. A quiet offering; a silent promise.
The Dragon stared motionless, gold eyes unwavering and unreadable.
“You’re hurt. I can help.”
It continued to stare, silence thick between them.
Golden eyes flicked up and down his body, eyes unimpressed when sunlight gleamed off silver articles along the human’s body. Childe stared, forward movement being met with an aggressive hiss. “Oh.” He looked down to where the Dragon was. “Do… do you want me to toss my weapons?”
No response. Calmly, Childe unclipped the strap around his thigh, sheathed knife dangling by it. He dropped it, rolling his eyes and kicking it away with his foot when the Dragon didn’t look away from it. This seemed to please it, if only slightly.
Next, the Dragon stared at his boot. “Oh, c’mon now.” Childe sighed, pulling off his boot roughly and dumping the contents. Three knives slipped out from hidden compartments, each small and deadly in their own right. Lifting up his coat just high enough to see his pant’s waistband, he unattached his custom made short sword and pulled it out.
“I’m all out of weapons!” The Dragon’s gaze bore into him. Relenting, Childe pulled one last knife from his coat’s inside pocket, tossing it into the pile with the rest. He was truly disarmed this time.
Childe offered his earnest hand again, hoping his eyes were at least somewhat welcoming. He’d heard taunts that they looked like a dead fish’s eyes, before.
The Dragon let out the slightest puff of air -- was that a sigh? -- and moved painfully slow. Cold scales were flooded with warmth from the human’s palm, intense gold eyes meeting ocean.
At the touch, an unfamiliar wave of energy crashed into him. That mark his father forced him to hide began to glow the same colour as the Dragon’s eyes, confidently placed in the middle of his index’s first section. The shape was similar to a diamond’s, dark brown lines jagged and sharp. The light became brighter, the Dragon’s eye grew vivid with his mark.
Oh , Childe couldn’t help his smile reaching a borderline manic look, this will be quite the wild ride.