Chapter Text
Miles woke to find the space beside him in the bed empty and cold. His heart skipped a beat before he rolled over, finding Olivier sitting in the corner, her arms around her legs, her chin on her knees.
“Liv? Are you alright?”
She nodded and he slid off the bed, making his way toward her and dragging a blanket behind him. He sank down beside her, draping the quilt around her shoulders and pulling her into his arms. Adjusting to life outside the cave was more of a struggle than either of them could have accounted for. Her first night in a bed had been a complete failure, with her abandoning it to try and sleep on the floor. She’d been restless as they’d made their way from North City down to Central City, and now with seeing her parents for the first time in over fifteen years right set for the next day she was apparently completely unable to sleep.
“Are you nervous?”
“I’ve faced far worse things.”
He smiled, “that doesn’t mean you can’t be nervous. It’s a big day tomorrow.”
“I know it doesn’t matter, because I’ve been fine without them, but what if things don’t work out with my family? What if they hate me?”
“They will love you,” he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, “because they already do. All this time, they’ve loved you and missed you.”
“What if that’s the problem? What if I’m not what they expect? I don’t understand the world anymore, everything is so strange and confusing.”
“You’re very intelligent, Liv, you’ll figure it out. If you want, I’ll even help you.”
She nodded, seemingly done talking, and leaned into his embrace a little. He kissed the top of her head, before resting his cheek on it. She smelled nice, he couldn’t help but notice. Now that she had access to baths that didn’t require multiple transformations to heat and use alongside more soaps and sweet-smelling oils than any one person should own, she was clean and fresh at all times, often spending the entire evening in the tub at whatever inn they had stopped at, requiring Miles to continually add hot water and siphon out the cold. He supposed it was, in part, because after the witch’s magic had broken, she was no longer able to breathe fire and a bath so hot her pale skin turned pink like a boiled lobster helped her keep as warm as she liked to be.
Her love of heat wasn’t the only residual wyvern quality hanging around. Every marketplace they went through slowed their journey by hours as she stopped by every shiny stall and deliberated what parts of the money and jewels they had brought from the caves she was willing to part with to add new items to her hoard. She and Buccaneer had even had a small spat when the big man, tired and hungry, had told her she didn’t need another bejewelled dagger. She had bought two just to spite him.
Even stronger than her hoarding was her instinct to protect Miles, himself. He had offered to get separate rooms to avoid problems with any of innkeepers and she had been bitterly offended, insisting on not letting him out of her sight until she was sure they would be able to share a room, and sleeping directly on top of him, just as she had done when she kept him in her nest. At one inn, she had angrily, and forcefully, placed herself between him and a particularly flirtatious barmaid. He doubted very much he would be able to leave her, even once she was reunited with her family. The contest with the mountain spirit had ended with what could only be called a magical bond, and even if it hadn’t, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone.
He kissed her head again as she sighed sleepily and nestled closer. “I love you, Olivier.”
---
The Armstrong family manor was beyond anything he had ever seen. He was downright apprehensive as a servant let them in the front gates, seemingly perplexed by their absence of a carriage, and brought them up to the doors. Inside the massive doors, all lined neatly and looking just as terrified, were the Armstrong family themselves.
The silence was the loudest thing Miles had ever heard. Uncertainly, he pulled out his scrolls and sketchbooks, all the research he had done on Alex Armstrong’s commission and held it out. The other man took it in shaking hands.
Olivier took a step forward, head held high, and said, almost without quavering, “Mother?”
Angelica Armstrong half walked, half fell into Olivier’s arms, her sobs echoing in the huge entry hall, only the sounds of her husband’s tears louder. It seemed to set off a chain reaction.
“Livvie!”
“My baby girl-”
“I can’t believe it’s really you!”
“-I’m so sorry.”
Miles stepped back as the family melded into a group hug, smiling to himself. Olivier wiggled her way free a moment later, backing up to grab his hand, her eyes wide.
“I’m sorry, Livvie-” her mother was wiping her eyes on a handkerchief, “-I’m sure this is a lot to take in. We’re just so happy.”
“I-” Olivier seemed to grapple with her words for a moment, “-understand.”
Phillip turned to Miles. “You-” he choked, “-thank you.”
Miles probably should have seen the embrace coming, but he staggered under the unexpected weight of the large man. He managed to pull away after a minute, saying something nonsensical like “there, there” though he wasn’t really sure what it was that he was actually saying.
There were tears and words choked out, spoke over and around each other, and then silence. They were ushered into a sitting room, Olivier’s fingers digging into his arm like claws. He winced, but let her. He steered her carefully to a settee and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they sat.
The little girl who had been hanging onto Alex before perched on the ottoman and stared at them. Or, at Olivier, rather. Olivier frowned at her, and she frowned back.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Catherine, who are you?”
“Olivier.”
Angelica swept over, clutching Catherine’s shoulder with a shaking hand. “This is your big sister, Catherine, remember we told you about her?”
“She doesn’t look dead.”
“Cath-”
Olivier laughed. “Well, you don’t look dead, either.”
“That’s because I’m alive, silly!”
“Well, I am, too.” Catherine nodded, satisfied with her sister’s logic. Olivier tilted her head thoughtfully. “How old are you?”
“I’m five and three quarters!” Catherine beamed, showing off a missing tooth. “How old are you?”
“Um-” Olivier wrung her hands, tapping her fingers as though trying to count.
“Twenty-four, dear. Your birthday was last month.”
“Oh.”
“We can have a celebration now, though. We want to have one anyway, to celebrate you being back and-” she was speaking in a rush, as though trying to make up for all the things she had wanted to say to her daughter and hadn’t been able to.
Olivier pulled back, nose wrinkling. He recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen hundreds of times when the wyvern was becoming stressed. He rubbed her arm, soothingly.
“Perhaps-” he began, but Angelica kept going.
“We’ll have to let everyone know, of course, and we’ll have a big welcome home party. I’ll get caterers and we’ll serve your favorite foods. Do you still like roast duck? What about stewed plums?”
Her fingers became a vise on his arm and Miles squeezed her arm slightly in response. “I think, Ma’am,” he interjected quietly, but firmly, “Olivier would rather get reacclimated before trying to engage in a large social gathering.”
“Oh. Right, of course.” Angelica waved her hand, flustered.
“ I like stewed plums.” Catherine offered helpfully from her place on the ottoman.
“Of course you do.”
“Well, I’m sure you two are tired from your travels, would you like me to show you to your rooms?”
Olivier’s fingers tightened again. Miles shot her a confused look. “Um, yes, please.”
Little Catherine trailed along behind them as they made their way up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. “We kept your old room the way it was for a long time, but we moved Catherine into it when she was born. You understand, don’t you, love?”
Olivier’s face turned angry for a moment, Miles rubbed her arm, sensing the jealous rage of the wyvern rising in her. She calmed, giving him a look that he didn’t quite know how to interpret.
“Ah, here we are, Livvie. It’s our nicest guest suite. I’m sure you’ll love it, but if you need anything at all just let me know.”
Olivier walked slowly into the room, brushing her fingers over the two arm chairs on her way and making her way to the bed. She ran her hand over the posters. “Curtains.”
“What, love?”
“My old bed had curtains.”
“Oh, you’re right. Would you like me to have a servant put some on this bed for you?” Olivier nodded. “I’ll get right on that just as soon as I show Miles here to his room, alright?”
Olivier’s quick reflexes startled both of them as she lunged back across the room to put herself between Miles and her mother. “No! He has to stay with me.”
Angelica laughed nervously. “Darling, it isn’t proper-”
“I don’t care. He’s mine.”
“It’s alright, Olivier, I won’t go anywhere.” He put a hand on her back, and addressed himself to Angelica. “Could I speak to you outside?” She nodded and he kissed Olivier’s cheek reassuringly, following Angelica out into the hall. Catherine remained behind, staring up at Olivier who stared uncomfortably back.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I simply cannot allow-”
“If it matters that much to you we can go back to the inn, but the things she’s been through-” he shook his head, “-I am not going to leave her alone because it offends your sensibilities.” He hesitated. “I know it is a lot to take in, but the notes I gave your son should help you understand. She may always be a little dragon-esque. Trying to separate her from the things she feels are hers will only end badly.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your honesty. Of course, I have just had my daughter returned to me, I would not send her away. I only ask that you be discrete, my other children may misunderstand.”
He raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “I appreciate it.”
Catherine was holding onto Olivier’s sleeve when they returned, still staring up at her. Olivier looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know what she wants.”
“You’re pretty,” Catherine told her, matter of factly.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Catherine, dear, come along.” Angelica held out a hand and Catherine took it. “I’ll send a servant up with curtains and then someone will come along and let you know when lunch is ready.”
Miles turned back to Olivier as the door closed. “How are you feeling?”
She looked around the gilded room slowly, with its luxe fabrics and elegant decorations. “I don’t think my dress is fancy enough.”
He smiled. “You look lovely. But, I meant, how does being around your family again feel? Are you happy?”
“I am overwhelmed,” she admitted, sinking onto one of the chairs, “but I am not unhappy , I think.”
“That’s good.” He sat in the other chair and took her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. “Why don’t you take a nice hot bath and the-”
She perked up, pivoting in her seat. “There’s a bath in here?”
“I think so-” he pointed, “-there should be one through the door there.”
She bounded over and he followed. Sure enough the most modern of bathrooms lay behind the door. The tub had been filled with water in preparation for their arrival and the fireplace in the room itself was primed to heat it. He lit it and stepped back.
“Best go and grab your new soaps and potions.”
She smiled, bright and almost childlike in her happiness. “Which ones should I use today?”
“Well, which one do you like the best?”
“The lavender. Well. The rose and almond. Or-”
“How about the lavender?” She nodded and began digging in her satchel, stopping when there was a knock on the door. “That’s probably the servant with the curtains.”
Sure enough, when he opened the door there was a small team of servants with a ladder and bundles of dark fabric. He let them in to do their work and perched awkwardly on an armchair while Olivier vanished into the bathroom. He had to admire their quiet efficiency and he thanked them as they slipped out again.
---
Catherine was the one member of the family who felt comfortable approaching Olivier with questions, or simply following her around, watching her curiously. Olivier was, at first, frustrated and confused.
“Why do you keep staring at me?”
Miles glanced across the table to see Catherine’s big green eyes peering over at them. He whispered, “Liv, she’s a kid-”
“She’s still staring!” Olivier whispered back, shooting him a look.
“Are you really my sister?”
“Yes. Or, at least-” she glanced at her parents, who nodded, “-I think so.”
“Then why are you so little?”
Olivier’s face darkened. It was true, compared to her other, grown, siblings Olivier was positively diminutive. “How come you’re so little?”
“I’m five!”
“Well, I’m-” she broke off, glancing helplessly at Miles.
“People come in all sizes, Catherine.” He offered to appease the girl who nodded sagely.
In spite of her initial unease, Olivier took to Catherine, tolerating her questions and comments with what could almost be considered grace. “She reminds me of a new hatchling,” she explained when Miles commented on it, laying bed one night and stroking her hair lovingly, “they learn by watching, after all.”
“Very wise, my dear,” he’d replied, kissing her cheek.
In spite of being ill-prepared for the reality of having their daughter home, the Armstrongs adapted well. They obviously had thought it would be a simple matter to clean her up, put her in a pretty gown, and show her to the world. Olivier was not simple as that. She spent hours in her bed with the curtains drawn, complaining the outside world was either “too loud” or else “too bright”.
She still liked to hoard. Silverware, candlesticks, jewelry, picture frames, it didn’t matter. If it glittered, it wound up under her bed. To their credit, her parents accepted that she didn’t mean it as a theft, she simply thought the “treasures” needed to be protected and there was nowhere safer than under her protection. Even so, it drove her father to madness to sit down at dinner and find crystal candlesticks or else the servant’s tableware. Her mother was the first to think of a solution, gently talking Olivier into trading items of value for whatever they needed that day.
When Olivier felt threatened she snarled and snapped, appearing as Strongine put it “positively feral”. Which was bad enough on it’s own, but far worse when one considered the types of events she found threatening: loud noises, strangers, anyone looking at her for too long.
By the end of the week, she was overwhelmed to the point Miles began to worry she would actually hurt herself or someone else. The journey from the cave had been exciting, different every day, the overwhelming world passing in and out of focus. In her parents’ home there was no such distracting from the reality of her new life. She was desperately far behind the times, could read only a little better than her five year old sister, and had either forgotten or confused many of the “rules” of social life. She hid her face, avoided eye contact, and was irritable.
Angelica drew Miles aside after one of Olivier’s fits. “Tell me honestly, she is miserable here, isn’t she?”
“She’s overwhelmed, Ma’am, she feels threatened like a cornered-” he broke off, abruptly, but she understood.
“A cornered animal, I know.” She sighed, quietly. “I had hoped she was happy to come home, but every day she spends here she grows worse.”
“It is not your fault.”
“I know.”
“It’s too much too soon, but I am sure she will grow accustomed to it in time.” He wasn’t sure of it, in fact he was almost certain that she would only struggle more as time went on. Angelica seemed to understand because she only nodded and waved him to go on.
It was another day before Miles knew she truly did understand.
“Olivier, dear?” Olivier glanced at her mother, a chunk of beef hanging out of her mouth. Miles nudged her and swiped at his mouth, prompting her to suck it into her mouth noisily. Angelica smiled, apparently unbothered. “Do you remember the chateau we were staying at before? I know it was a long time ago-”
“There was a big old tree in the front, wasn’t there?”
“That’s right; you loved climbing it.”
“I don’t know if the tree is still there,” Philip interjected, twirling his mustache thoughtfully, “but the chateau is. It has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations, so we couldn’t sell it, but we couldn’t bear to go back either.”
“It’s a little ways from the nearest village, but not too far up mountain.”
“It will need some repair work after all this time, but-”
“You’re sending me away?”
Philip and Angelica exchanged a nervous look. “It isn’t that, dear, it’s just that you’re so unhappy here. We thought you would prefer to live somewhere quieter. With fewer people.”
“Can I still come visit?”
“Always!”
Olivier nodded and turned to Miles. “Would you come with me?”
“Of course, love.” He grinned. “After all, the mountains aren’t going to study themselves.”
“Then it’s settled.”
---
In loving Olivier, Miles often found himself in dangerous and unusual situations. And waiting for their native guide on a North City street corner early in the morning, certainly qualified. Heavy arms dropped onto their shoulders and Buccaneer’s gruff voice rumbled cheerfully in the still morning air.
“You two lovebirds ready for an adventure?”
Olivier laughed, happier than he thought he had ever heard her. “Always.”