#fbafb

It was at least worth looking, he decided, even if such a detour was a bit of a distraction from his journey. He would be in and out, easy as that.

Except one stall had pointed out another, which had led to another and so on, and before he knew it, half the morning had gone by. And he still hadn’t picked out a gift!

Before he could commit one way or the other, hurried whispering from the nearby corner caught his ear. He was a knight, which meant all his senses were keenly trained to pick up trouble. And mutterings about a monster? That most certainly sounded like trouble.

“Pardon me,” he started, cutting into the hushed argument with a dazzling smile. “As a knight of the realm, I’d be happy to help you out with your little monster problem! No bounty hunters necessary.”

“It’s not a little problem,” one of the townsfolk grumbled, while the other eyed Roman speculatively.

“You’ll get rid of it without charging us?” she asked bluntly, earning a glare from her companion.

Roman nodded, used to the question. “Such is the responsibility of a knight of these lands.”

“It’s not something we need to get rid of!” the first stranger interrupted with a scowl. “It’s powerful, it could be devastating on a battlefield. Your king should be buying it from us.”

“Oh, shut it,” the woman snapped. “You can’t get that beast to do anything but growl and hide away, and I want it out of here before the town becomes its next casualty!”

The man wheeled around to face her, his face purpling, but before they could start bickering again, Roman stepped forward.

“Why don’t you take me to where the monster is, first?” he said, patting the hilt of his sword reassuringly. “I won’t be able to decide anything without seeing it.”

The pair subsided with matching grumbles, and before long, they were walking down a small, overgrown path outside of the town, one that slowly curved into the rockier forest area that surrounded it.

It was interesting that he couldn’t find a trace of fear on either of his guides, even as they grew closer to where the alleged beast was. Wariness and irritation, sure, but none of the true terror that so often came with seeing one of the monsters of this land.

Roman didn’t think it was an ambush or trap, either. Perhaps they’d simply caught a particularly large wolfdog and gotten overexcited?

“Here we are,” the man said, his vexed expression fading away in favor of excitement, like a child showing off a new toy.

They’d reached the wide mouth of a cave, one that was squat and shallow, but still deep enough to house something large. There was nothing in sight.

“Are we supposed to venture inside…?” Roman hazarded, not too keen on the idea. His dislike of dark spaces aside, cramped quarters were the worst place for his favored style of combat.

The woman snorted. “Not unless you want to be bitten in half. Just wake it up already.”

The latter sentence was directed at the man, who scowled darkly at her before pulling an engraved bit of metal from his pocket. From a single glance at the intricate symbols and embedded stones, Roman assumed it was an enchanted magical instrument of some kind.

The woman shot him an assessing glance, as though to see if he had any negative response to the item, but he only met her gaze evenly, unperturbed.

His brother had wrangled the magic of his curse into its own kind of witchcraft at ten years old. Roman would be a hypocrite to believe that all forms of enchantment were designed to harm.

He had something of a bad feeling in his gut, though, and it only worsened as he watched the man press a thumb down against the sharp edge of the tool, pricking his finger to activate the device with his blood.

There was a pause as the man waited expectantly, and then frowned, before tightening his grip on the tool and yanking it through the air, as though pulling at an invisible cord.

With a muffled cry, something huge tumbled out of the cave into the light. Roman took a step back, feeling the color drain from his face.

That was not a wolfdog.

His attention caught on the identifying details first— the horns, the scales, the horizontal pupils, the wings— and he knew that this was a dragon, shifted into a more humanoid form (if admittedly one that was still dragon-sized).

In the next moment, Roman’s eyes settled onto the face beneath the mythical features, and his heart dropped like a stone. That was a child’s face, round-cheeked and crumpled up in distress.

Sure, it was a child big enough to grind his bones to a paste in one swat, but that didn’t change the fact that he was seeing a kid in tears. A kid that happened to be awfully similar to his recently acquired nephew.

They were alike in more ways than one, he realized as his gaze dropped down to the thick metal cuffs that were wrapped around all four of the child’s limbs. They had no chains binding them together— or rather, no visible chains. The engravings visible on the metal were telling enough as to just what that enchanted instrument was connected to.

“Where did you get that tool?” he asked, dizzy with the shock of such a scene.

The man preened, mistaking Roman’s alarm for interest. “Impressive, isn’t it? Some idiot sold it to me for cheap.”

The only ones skilled enough to get cuffs like these on a dragon shifter were mercenaries, who were known for being demanding barterers. More likely than not, that ‘idiot’ had been pawning off a stolen good, hoping to pass on the consequences of crossing a mercenary guild to an unlucky buyer.

Roman remembered the faded scars on Virgil, and felt a boiling hot fury bubbling up in him. He took a step forward, expression dark, and the kid flinched away and huddled down. The motion was enough to send a shock of horror down his spine, dousing the worst of his impulsive anger.

Right. Get the kid out safe first, deal with scumbags later.

“This is certainly a dangerous creature,” he lied through grit teeth, and then held out a hand. “You were right to take me up on my services. I can take it from here.”

The man recoiled, holding the tool tighter. “I know something valuable when I see it, and clearly, so do you. It would be stupid of me to part with it without getting something for my time.”

Roman turned to look at the child again, trying to repress the hot anger bubbling in his chest. The kid wasn’t even watching them discuss their fate, eyes scrunched up tightly and hands twitching like they would have covered their ears, too, if their wrists weren’t still locked in place.

He had left to avoid inflicting more distress on a traumatized child, and yet here he stood, doing exactly that yet again. Roman grimaced, and then asked himself a question that almost never led him anywhere good: What would Remus do?

Turning slowly, he met the man’s eyes, set a hand on the pommel of his sword, and grinned.

“It would be stupider,” he said, slow and menacing, “to demand anything from me when I’m the one fixing your little problem in the first place.”

The man lost some of his confidence, wavering.

“If you’d prefer to lose a hand along with it, by all means keep hanging on,” Roman added, almost conversationally. “I’m sure even the bite of my blade would feel like tender mercy compared to the wrath that will fall upon you if the mercenaries that caught this beast find out you’re the one who stole that key.”

“Give it to him,” the woman snapped, expression hard and hunted.

Knowing what terror she’d sat by and abided, Roman couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.

“Fine!” the man spat, throwing the tool at his feet. “Take it and go!”

The woman, keener on the uptake, grabbed him by the crook of his arm the moment the key hit the dirt, and yanked him back down the path from where they’d come.

Roman obviously wasn’t actually going to use the tool to make the kid attack them, for a very large range of reasons, but he wasn’t going to correct the misconception if it got them away from him and the kid quicker.

He leaned down to scoop the key up, grimacing at the glint of blood still visible on it, and then turned to look at the kid.

They quickly shuttered the eye they’d been peeking out of back closed, immediately curling in tighter and bracing themself.

“Dear child,” Roman said, sorrow heavy in his heart. “Can you look at me for a moment?”

There was a pause, the kid twitching in surprise, and then a slow reappearance of those big blue eyes.

“Hello there,” he greeted, keeping his voice soft. “I don’t know you, but I have a nephew that you remind me very much of. I’m sorry for speaking so harshly before, but I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Help me?” the kid echoed in a large whisper, and then winced as though waiting for a strike to land.

“Yes,” Roman replied, once he was confident that he’d ironed the last traces of the fury he felt out of his voice. “Do you know how I could remove these cuffs from you?”

The kid’s eyes went impossibly wider. “Really?” they whispered.

Roman nodded firmly. “Really, truly.”

Their bottom lip wobbled, and Roman felt a sense of despair at what was turning out to be a month that proved him extremely inept with children, only for them to blink back the tears and keep speaking in that hushed voice.

“I don’t know how to remove ‘em, but I— I know if you get all the blood off, I can move my hands around normal again," they offered, watching him with an unsettling intensity, eyes lit with the tentative hope of a starved dog.

Roman pulled his canteen from his hip immediately, untwisting the lid with his teeth and promptly dumping the contents over the metal’s surface. The worst of the blood was washed away, and he dragged out a part of his undershirt to wipe off the remaining stain.

He couldn't deny a bit of apprehension, but rather than try and attack him or otherwise lash out, the kid only pulled their hands to their chest and curled over them protectively, the mingled stress and relief so visible on their face that Roman felt his own chest ache in sympathy.

“May I know your name, dear child?” he asked, pushing away his automatic nervousness as they shifted to sit up to their full height.

“Oh!” the child gasped, seemingly shocked that they’d only just recalled their manners despite the situation. “M’name is Patton, nice to meet you!”

“Well, Patton Nicetomeetyou,” Roman responded in jest, relief sweeping over him when the kid smiled, “You may call me Roman.”

He swept into a dramatic bow, adding the silliest flourishes in his repertoire, and Patton laughed, a soft, watery chuckle. The longer they spoke without being punished, the more they uncurled, slowly, like a flower blooming.

“If I may?” Roman asked, reaching a hand out.

He thought for a moment that the child would refuse— Virgil certainly refused any and all direct contact with him— but Patton only hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out, hovering their considerably larger hand in front of him.

“For you,” he vowed, and set the instrument on Patton’s fingertips. “Until we find a way to get those accursed cuffs off, you should be the only one to possess that device.”

Patton’s fingers drew back the moment they recognized the tool, inhaling sharply as they curled their fist around it. They sniffled slightly, but they were smiling again, as though they couldn’t help the surprised delight, so Roman didn’t feel entirely useless.

“My brother, Remus, knows much more about magecraft than I do. I would be honored if you would accompany me to his home. He may be strange,” Roman paused, and then emphasized, “very, very strange, but he’ll do what he can to help.”

Patton was nodding almost before he’d finished speaking, eyes still red-rimmed. “I can’t go home until I know nobody can make me hurt anyone,” they said firmly. “I wanna meet your weird brother, please.”

Now there was a sentence he almost never heard. With any luck, Remus would know what to do, or even Virgil, though Roman would be loath to ask anything that reminded his nephew of whatever horrors lurked in his past.

“Then meet him you shall! I’ll retrieve my horse from town, and we can be off!” Roman replied heartily, his own spirits lifted by Patton’s determination.

The trees in the forest were old and huge, enough that they sheltered him from view. The mountain was even more so, with old dragon caves that he could spend hours exploring. There was a little town to the south, but the forest was big enough that no travelers stumbled across the part where he lived.

He’d only snuck down to the town because he’d wanted to see the lights that had been strung up in the streets. He wasn’t sure what they were for, but they were bright and beautiful.

He hadn’t meant to get so close. He hadn’t meant to be caught.

But between one moment and the next, there had been a tiny gasp, and he’d turned his head to see one of the townsfolk, a young woman, staring up at him in frozen terror. The sight of the human had terrified him just as much, and he’d tipped back onto his butt, his hand knocking into a market stall with a crash of splintering wood.

The spell of silence broken, the woman screamed, the alarm spreading as windows began to light all down the street. Virgil had scrambled back like a crab, before turning and fleeing into the woods, leaving behind the distant noise of opening doors and raised voices.

It had all led to this. He’d been seen, and they’d set a bounty on his head, and now there was a strange human in his forest.

Virgil could hear the stranger humming, his tone nasal and low, occasionally straying painfully off key. He’d been using the sound as a guide, creeping away as quietly as he could whenever it came into range, but no matter how hard he tried to put distance between them, the wind would carry that hum back to him the moment he settled down to hide.

The stranger was a skilled tracker, maybe, or had extraordinarily good luck, or actually had seen Virgil that first time and had been following him from a distance ever since, tiring him out like a wolf stalking a deer. He didn’t sound like a knight, didn’t move with the crash of steel or ride a horse. Virgil hoped he wasn’t a knight, almost more than he wished he’d never gone down to that village at all.

He let himself breathe in, quiet and shaky, and then pushed away from the wall of his cave, listening for the stranger so he could try and sneak away once more.

Between the distant trees and night sky, there was silence.

Virgil leaned towards the cave’s opening, scanning the sharp silhouettes and straining for even the most muffled sound of twigs underfoot.

At the lip of the cave, a human-sized figure swung into view upside down, baring bone-white teeth in an unhinged grin. “Boo!”

Virgil couldn’t help the small scream that tore from him, the noise echoing against the cavern’s walls. His heart racing, he bolted back down those familiar tunnels without another thought, fleeing even as the human’s cackling cut off sharply.

“—Hey, wait, get back here! I didn’t spend all night wandering in the cold-ass woods just to have a monster blueball me out of a fight again!”

Shouted into a deep cave, the stranger’s words bounced and overlapped until they were just meaningless noise around Virgil, only propelling him forward faster. He took the corners sharply, scrambling up near sheer cliffs, barely noticing the way sharp protruding rocks scraped against his shoulders or pierced the soft bits of his feet.

He didn’t realize he was cornering himself until he turned into a dead end, the paths somehow warped and unfamiliar under the force of his panic. Quick, skipping steps were pursuing him in the distance, which meant that the human could still hear his footsteps, and so he shuffled into the furthest corner of the cavern and focused on making himself still and quiet, no matter how hard his body wanted to tremble and shake and sob.

There was no doubt about it; the stranger was a bounty hunter, and Virgil was the bounty.

That nasally voice continued to echo down to Virgil as he rambled on, complaining or singing or making jokes Virgil didn’t get, all while steadily pursuing his quarry.

Bit by bit, the noise drew closer and closer, accompanied by the crackle of a merrily burning torch. He seemed to be utterly undeterred by the twisting, unsettling nature of the mountain, and what little hope Virgil had began to fade. There was no way that the stranger would just happen to pass him by.

It would take a miracle to save him now.

A cavern away, a chunk of old stone gave way under an overconfident foot.

—-

“Oh, fuck—,” Remus shouted, his brain nearly shorting out as he tripped directly into freefall.

His divination provided him with a slurry of unhelpful images, each one matching a tiny movement he made while falling: him landing on his legs and shattering both of them so hard he blacks out, him landing on his head and doing a lot worse than blacking out, ragdolling all the way down the crevice below, twisting so that his foot catches on a crack in the wall and wrenches his ankle— That one!

He howled as his foot caught, and then the bitch that was gravity caught up with him and his back and skull slammed against the wall, knocking the air out of him and causing little white flashes to appear in his vision.

It took a long moment to come back to himself through the pain, but when he did, he found himself still dangling in place by a single ankle. He’d lost his torch somewhere in the process.

He glanced down, and knew immediately that the shadowy drop below was fatal, the cracks of potential future bone breaking settling into his brain.

Glancing up, he knew immediately that his ankle was boned, going by the interesting angle it was making with the rest of his leg.

He contemplated reaching up with his other foot and trying to wedge it in another crack. His brain offered him visions of the whole bit of cliff face snapping into brittle pieces, and then more falling to his death.

He crossed his arms, letting all the blood rush to his head in hopes of that generating a better idea. Instead, he got a headache.

“Well, shit,” he said, succinctly.

Something big shifted, just barely in earshot. Remus didn’t bother looking ahead; it was obvious that the giant he’d been hunting had just figured out how thoroughly the roles had been reversed.

Sure enough, the movements shuffled closer, surprisingly hesitant, and then two huge, glowing eyes peered down at him.

“Come to grind my bones into paste?” Remus asked, genuinely curious. “Or squish all my organs out through my ears?”

Those eyes scrunched up a bit in revulsion, which was hilarious coming from a monster about to kill him. He wiggled his limbs around a bit, ignoring the resulting pain and cracking of brittle rock in favor of hopefully enticing the creature to grab him already. Just hanging around was getting boring.

The breathing above him quickened a bit, and then there was a curved, warm surface under him, lifting slowly until his ankle was no longer carrying all of his weight. Remus considered yanking the injured foot free before the monster could do it for him, but before he could follow through, there was the silhouette of large fingers poking and prying at the rock until it really did crumble away.

The cupped thing he was splayed across had to be a hand too, he realized as he breathed through the sharp jabs of pain from his ankle being released. From the way the townspeople described it, he’d expected something less… human-shaped.

Between his ankle and his head rush, it was no surprise that he blacked out a little.

When he managed to wake back up, they’d returned to a tunnel that led outside, going by the fresh air he could feel against his face. It must have taken the creature a lot more time to make the trip while carrying him.

Whatever it wanted him for, he wasn’t sticking around to find out. He cast around for potential futures-- he rolls out of the grip and smacks his head on stone, he lands on his bad ankle and instantly blacks out again, he waits a little longer and is set on the ground outside by--

“You’re a kid?” he blurted, his vision of a distinctly human, distinctly child-shaped face fading away. The hand under him jolted, and the kid made a startled sniffle.

“You’re alive?” he asked in return, his voice deep and big but also rough with… tears? Jeez, had the kid really been that upset about some asshole bounty hunter biting the dust?

The hand curled in a little tighter around him, one fingertip coming to settle on his chest as though to check that he really was breathing. The motion was gentler than he thought possible for a giant, and he realized fairly abruptly that the ‘terrorized’ people in the town below were full of shit.

He’d hunted this kid for a whole night, and all he’d done in return was avoid him and then save his life. Some ‘monster’.

The kid seemed to remember himself, and flattened his hand back out before shuffling forwards more. There was a subtle shaking running through him, and Remus had the feeling that the kid was going to bolt the minute he set him down.

“Anyone else live up here with you?” he asked, flopping back onto the hand casually. He felt that giant gaze drop onto him and continued casually. “I came up here for a bounty but it turned out the townsfolk are dirty liars. I haven’t seen a single monster.”

There was a little surprised inhale from above him.

“In fact, this place is so nice I might camp here for a while,” he added, waving a hand at the forest ahead lazily. “Make sure to send off any other bounty hunters so they don’t waste their time up here.”

“R-Really?” the kid asked, his tone full of doubt and suspicion.

“Yup! I’ve been told I’m an absolutely detestable neighbor, disturber of the peace, totally unrecommended, zero out of ten,” Remus paused. “But I’m great at getting rid of uninvited guests!”

The kid took that last step out of the tunnel, the early light of dawn spilling over both of them. Remus sat up, waving his fingers in greeting as they both took each other in as more than silhouettes.

Apart from the fact that he was giant, the kid looked like... a kid. An long-limbed, underfed, lonely kid. One with distinct cuff-shaped scars around his wrists and ankles.

Remus shoved down his anger, tore his gaze away from the old wounds, and offered the kid a sharp-toothed grin. The kid tilted his head, wary. That was okay. Remus could handle wary.

“So, what do you say?”

“... Neighbors,” he replied, hesitant and hopeful. Remus cheered obnoxiously.