#narim

At least the clothes were light and airy - while he could feel his skin start to prickle, he wasn't dripping in sweat like the guards, clanking away beside him in their full leather and steel armour.

Bastards.

As the doors loomed, Narim threw one last look over his shoulder. He reckoned he could overpower the guards at his sides - they were armed with pointed spears, but there wasn't enough room in the corridor to use them effectively- but the others at his back would take him down before he could take more than a couple of steps.

He considered digging his heels in, refusing to go any further, but he was still aching from the beating they'd served him in his cell, and he didn't fancy a gauntlet to his tender ribs.

So it came to this… death by a dozen armed guards, or face whatever lay beyond those doors…

As it happened, the choice wasn't his to make. 

With a screeching groan, the doors were wrenched open, and before he could make out more than the swirl of smoke and the flicker of warm light, he was hurled into the room beyond.

He landed hard, unable to break his fall with his wrists bound as they were, and his left shoulder and side took the brunt of the blow. He groaned into the flagstones, eyes screwed shut as he welcomed the new injuries to the party.

The door slammed and locked behind him. Definite. Final. There was no going back to face the guards now…

Narim hissed as he shifted. His arm stung - the skin definitely broken, and most likely bleeding. The stones beneath him were covered in dust, and he could feel it sticking to his skin, tickling his nose.

He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Inches away from his nose, staring right back at him was the charred remains of some poor bastard's skull.

Narim gasped, coughing as he inhaled a lung full of dust… no, god, a lung full of ash… and scrambled awkwardly backwards until his bare back hit the steel of the closed door.

"…shit…" His whisper rang loudly in his ears.

He tore his eyes away from the skull, from the shapes strewn beside it - more bones, from the grey dust that coated it all.

He whipped his head to the side, in search of something, anything else, but his frantic gaze landed on another mound. This one bore more resemblance to a human - the blackened bones of it's arm stretched out towards him, towards the door, grasping desperately for freedom.

"…shit, shit, shit!"

He screwed his eyes shut again, tried to slow his ragged breaths, to calm his heart hammering away in his chest.

Check your space… His mentor's advice from years prior had his eyes snapping back open. Know your dangers in rest and in panic.

Wise words. He had to survey his surroundings and search for an escape. Before whatever had happened to these unlucky souls happened to him.

The room he'd been dumped in was large, much larger than he'd expected, the shadows that clung to the edges making it seem like an endless space. With flagstones floors, stone walls, and the steel door behind him it should have been freezing, but the vast fireplace on the opposite wall blazed with flickering red and orange flames. The heat that emenated from the hearth was sweltering, and Narim found himself sweating in earnest. Besides the flames, there seemed to be no other source of light - no barred windows, no arrowslits, nothing - only darkness.

There were at least three other skeletal piles that he could see - that made five people that had been burned in here before him. Who knows how many more were laying in the shadows?

"Another one? I thought they had finally given up."

Rumbling tones filled the room, and Narim's heart lodged in his throat.

He squinted at the spot to the left of the fireplace where the voice had come from. There was a recess swathed in shadows beside the hearth. Narim couldn't make out anything more than a vague figure beyond the orange glow.

"Have they finally run out of the skinny ones?" The voice rumbled through him, prickling his skin with goosebumps. "You've far more muscle than the last whore - she was all skin and bone."

Whore? 

Through the chill of his fear, Narim bristled, but he could hardly argue. There he was on his knees, barely dressed, and tied up like a goddamned present. Even his hair had been cleaned, oiled, and twined with threads that sparkled gold amidst the chocolate brown waves. If he could see himself, he'd probably have drawn the same conclusion. 

"Many have tried to love me, human. Do you think you have what it takes?"

…did it just say…

A breath of laughter escaped him. It was a dry and slightly hysterical laugh, but it was out before he could stop it. He'd always had a bad habit of finding humour in dark situations, but hearing the word 'love' while surrounded by evidence of violent death was faintly ridiculous.

"…You find this funny?" Two sharp eyes glowed red in the shadows, and the fire surged with the figure's furious tone. Narim flinched away from the intense heat.

"N… no!" He gasped, all trace of humor lost now. "No I-"

"Do you wish to perish like those before you?"

Again his eyes found the bones. At the blackened fingers outstretched. They'd all been heading towards the door, towards salvation, running in fear only to fall in agony.

…Fuck no. Not me. Not after everything I've been through. I won't go like that…

Narim took a deep grounding breath, and pushed himself up onto his feet, wobbling a little as he struggled to balance.

"I may be trussed up like a whore, Lord Dragon," He said, his voice much steadier than he'd expected. "But I'm not going to be loving you today."

"…You know me?" Suprise tinged the rumbling tone, the red eyes widening in the gloom. "The others thought I was human… until the end."

"…I took a wild guess." Narim gulped, took a couple of tentative steps forwards. He motioned at the hulking steel planes behind him. "Those doors were made to contain more than a human's strength."

He picked his way slowly across the room, careful not to stand on any of his… predecessors as he went. His feet were slick with ash and sweat.

"That," He continued, "along with the intense heat in here, and, well... those..." He awkwardly gestured to the scattered piles of blackened bones and ashes, now behind him. Narim was only a few meters away now, and he could now make out the creature's form more clearly. It stood a little taller than him, though it seemed to be leaning against the wall. It was hard to make out fine details, only the red eyes stood out, narrowing as Narim drew closer still.

A flash of sharp white fangs and a low hiss had Narim regretting having laughed at the creature.

"A-and I'm guessing you're injured?" He gingerly took another step, and the fire cracked and flared, the warning clear - stay back.

I won't run from you, creature. Not when you could be my ticket out of here.

"Even reinforced as they are, those doors wouldn't withstand the full force of a dragon, so you're either here of your own free will," He stumbled at the growl that erupted from the shadows, but pressed on. "O-or you're hurt."

The growling lessened. Narim was now no more than a few feet away, and he could make out the features of his dragon cellmate more clearly.

A male form stood shrouded in the shadows. His body looked well- built, muscles bulging under skin so pale Narim was suprised the shadows had hidden him at all. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the large hand that grasped his bicep was tipped with golden claws. His golden hair swept back over his head, the light shining off of the thick, straight strands. Those crimson eyes bore holes into him, unnervingly steady, and seemingly without the need to blink. They were set into a sharp-featured face, all hard lines and angles. The features looked like a mimicry of humanity. Reptilian and cold.

The sheer power that radiated from him had Narim avert his gaze. It set some deep-seated animal instinct in him screaming - turn, run, escape!

Steady hands, steady mind.

He repeated his mentor's mantra to himself over and over as he forced his feet to stay rooted, to halt the quiver in his fingers. His fear had always taken him this way - sending shivers down his limbs until he could grasp it and tame it. Until he could breathe through the storm and see the calm on the other side.

The dragon shifted, hissing a little. Narim could see subtle signs of pain and weariness - the tightness in the creature's jaw, the strain on his posture, how he let the wall behind him take his weight. He couldn't see where, but the dragon was definitely wounded… and a wounded animal was a dangerous thing.

"You're trapped in this form, yes?" 

Silence, except for the crackling of the logs in the fire. This close to the flames, Narim could feel his skin starting to catch - he'd be pink all over if he survived the night.

"I can help you," Narim offered, grasping at the only life-line he had left. "I-if you'll allow it?"

"And how do you intend on doing that?" The dragon growled, but there was less venom in his tone, perhaps a touch of intrigue.

"I…" He gulped. He'd only told three other people this about himself - his parents, who had brutally thrown him out, and his mentor. "I can… do things… things others can't."

A chuckle, like rolling thunder. "Oh, so you're a special whore?" The chuckle turned into a cough, then another, the dragon's body heaving as he winced in pain.

"I can heal you." He said, ignoring the dig through gritted teeth. "My ment-… people have called me a mage."

Come on, just give me a chance…

"A mage?" The dragon huffed, sagging against the wall. "They threw a mage into the dungeons? No. You're lying, and you'll regret it."

The flames surged again, and the heat hit him so hard that Narim dropped to his knees, shielding himself ineffectively behind his bound wrists.

No, not yet, just one chance!

"I'm not lying!" He cried out horsely, "They don't know! They think I'm just a normal prisoner, please… Stop!"

He locked eyes with the pale dragon - perhaps the last thing he would ever see? Two glowing red eyes squinting back at his in the gloom.

Please...

His vision started to blur, turning the world into a fuzzy smear of blacks, whites, and reds.

"…I can… help…" He murmered as he toppled over, losing himself to unconsciousness.