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A cold wind snuck through the steel bar window, too high up to reach, but low enough for the biting chill to make itself known to the figure sitting in the barren corner of the cell. There was no clinking or rattling despite the figure having chained wrists, and no outward indication that the cold and damp was affecting him.
Lan Zhan tried, when he could, to retain proper posture when having to wait long periods in the cell; partially because the Lan clan rules forbade improper sitting, but mostly because after doing so his whole life it typically made him ache more to slouch unless an injury required it, and minor injuries such as bruises or broken bones healed better in the right position anyways.
Currently, Lan Zhan was waiting. It had been more than a day since they had last come to him, leaving him alone to meditate and ignore the growing hunger. Focusing on his Core, he could at least mitigate the worst side effects of malnourishment for a short time, and he knew his captors banked on that when they disappeared. They would never actually let him die, not while he could still fight for their entertainment.
The only good thing to come from these long reprieves, was the whispers that would come from the cell right beside his, whispers that should be starting up right about…
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said through the vent connecting their cells. It was far too small to break and climb through, and most days they would get caught talking through it, but when the guards were all off protecting their lords at banquets and war meetings, they could manage at least a few hours of conversation.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan greeted back.
“Did you learn anything new when you were last out?” Wei Ying asked. It was always his first question, nervously intoned, and Lan Zhan knew what he really meant.
“Lady Jiang and Sect Leader Jiang both live. The Nie clan continues to lead the resistance, and has not been conquered.” He reports. Wei Ying sighs in relief.
“That’s good. I thought they hadn’t been, since they hadn’t been sent to me, but I don’t get all them, or always in a timely fashion. Things have been getting strange though, so be careful out there, okay?”
“How strange?” Lan Zhan asked. Strange could be a matter of life or death now a days.
“The raising grounds are in use again, and I’m being given a lot more work, but more on the experimental side of things. I’m not sure what they’re thinking…”
“I will keep a watch out, and ask them.” Lan Zhan didn’t have to specify who ‘them’ referred to. There were only two people he had semi-regular contact with who were both allies and in a position to know anything important.
“Thanks, Lan Zhan. And really do be careful out there,”
“You be careful as well.” Lan Zhan rather felt Wei Ying needed the reminder more than he did. Sure, Wei Ying wasn’t having to fight the same way Lan Zhan was, but he had a much harder time not provoking his captors.
Wei Ying was clearly about to say something more, but they were cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching. So, they had returned, a bit sooner than usual too. Whatever meeting probably hadn’t ended well then, and whatever the next fight was, it was sure to be more brutal than usual as well.
Two guards opened the door, one in red, the other in gold. They both looked bored, which Lan Zhan preferred. The lively ones tended to take joy in mocking the prisoners, the bored ones just did the bare minimum to avoid punishment themselves and then left as quickly as possible. So, he was given the pre-fight meal of one thick slice of meat and some cooked asparagus stalks, and then lead down the deceptively fair halls once he had finished to the pre-fight room.
The other prisoners of war deemed fit for the Tournaments stood around sullenly in the barely furnished, round room. It smelled of soil, and there were small plants growing in between the bricks making up its dusty, debris ridden floor. Most of the prisoners were either too despondent to do much other than prepare in silence, but a few groups always gathered to talk amongst themselves. The only person there who looked even remotely well cared for had red wristbands on in contrast to their grey prison uniforms. Gray, to show they belonged to no clan anymore, and were merely property of the Wen and Jin clans.
“Wen Ning,” Lan Zhan said once his handcuffs had been sufficiently loosened and his guards had left.
“Ah, Second Young Master Lan! It’s good to see you. Are you and Young Master Wei doing better? Sister said it might take a little while for your last wounds to heal…” Lan Zhan had only known Wen Ning peripherally before becoming captive, but since then he had become and indispensable ally and friend. He was also one of the few sources of hope and positivity left in the place.
“I am doing better. Wei Ying is no worse than before…Has much changed here?” Last they had seen each other, Lan Zhan had gained several broken ribs, and Wei Ying had somehow managed to get an unusual burn on his hand, probably from his experiments.
“Not much…” Wen Ning said, looking downwards. “The guards have been more on edge, though. I know Sister is worried, but she’s keeping most of the details to herself,”
That seemed to fit in with what Wei Ying had said about things being strange. He would have to make sure to get injured again, so he could ask Wen Qing personally about it. Information was so hard to come by, even the smallest piece of trivia was worth risking everything for. You never knew what info could be used later to your advantage.
“I’ll see what I can do,” is all he says, even though he and Wen Ning both know all he can really do right now is fight, try to read the moods of the crowds, and hope Wen Qing is willing to impart her knowledge onto him. It’s better than nothing at least. He need only step outside into the arena and look around to remember why.
It had been six months since the Tournaments started. Ever since Wen Ruohan had died in a ditch and Wen Xu had married Jin Zixun, bringing their clans together, there had been conflict that didn’t take long to turn into an all-out war, the Jins and Wens seeking to dominate the other clans. The Jiang and Lan clans had fought together, but eventually even they succumbed. The clan leaders were taken as hostages, forced to watch the other worthy disciples fight and sometimes kill each other while crowds cheered and jeered at them.
Entering the arena when he was called, Lan Zhan looked up to the leaders like he did every time he fought, so as to not lose focus. There was his Elder Brother, his sister-in-law Lady Jiang, and Sect Leader Jiang (whom he stubbornly refused to apply any other relationship status to, no matter how long their siblings had been married). They looked tired, worn out, in the same grey robes as the fighters, and their eyes anxiously went back and forth between the arena and each other. They at least didn’t look too ill this time, Lan Zhan noted with relief, as they stood straight enough on their own, and Sect Leader Jiang even had some of his old glare back. His brother had a worryingly resigned look to him, but there was at least still a spark of concern in his eyes, so he wasn’t doing too poorly. Lady Jiang looked sorrowful but determined, which was her usual look when well enough to focus, so at least nothing abnormally bad had happened to her yet.
After a few moments, he realized it was taking longer than usual for the other contestant to arrive; what was the hold up? Lan Zhan grew tense; he didn’t trust this change, a prisoner could be hurt, or the guards had something unusually cruel in mind.
At last, the doors opened, and he heard the sound of something – someone? – being dragged across the floor and chains rattling. When the guards with their charge came into view, Lan Zhan felt himself freeze inside.
It was a dragon. A young dragon, with a collar around its neck and clear frost burn and whip injuries covering its black and gold body. Its violet eyes were wide with rage and pain.
Lan Zhan felt a wave of sick, righteous fury building swiftly in him as well. They were torturing a baby dragon! What was being done to all the humans was wrong of course too, but that rage he had carefully put in the background out of practicality, he had adapted to its daily presence. This was a new rage, and he once again felt a strong urge to grab the nearest sword and throw it through Wen Chao’s face (for he was the one observing the Tournament this time) and fight all the guards personally. He could do it, he was strong enough with his magic to take them on.
But no. He couldn’t only think about himself, and his own feelings. Even if he could, probably, do significant damage to the institution here by himself, he could not do it while guaranteeing the safety of his family, or of the other innocent prisoners, or even the small dragon on whose behalf he was now so incensed.
He had to think of how he could help the dragon, speak to it, or at least hurt it minimally. Unfortunately, the only animals he had any experience with were bunnies. Bunnies were…well, perfect. Lan Zhan knew this. But they weren’t very similar to dragons. He had at least read about dragons, and knew that they could, as adults, speak as well if not better than humans; that they were intensely magical creatures who had mastered the elements and could cast intricate spells; and that they had a built-in sort of empathetic form of telepathy. They couldn’t read or project direct thoughts or commands, but they could create a link to communicate emotions and intent. How much a young dragon could control these abilities Lan Zhan didn’t know, but he did know his own spell to allow direct thought to pass between two minds, so if he could mix that with the dragon’s empathy, they might be able to get somewhere; or at least, he would have more knowledge to build a plan around than before.
When the dragon was tossed in his direction and released from its collar, it immediately lunged at Lan Zhan, still relying more on brute strength and speed more so than magic. The first few strikes were easy enough to dodge, but too erratic to leave any clear opening. He cast the communication spell during a dodge-roll to hopefully make it less obvious, but he refused to start talking in the dragon’s head until it had read his intent itself.
The dragon released some sparks before a wave of fire was suddenly sweeping towards him. Lan Zhan barely pulled up an anti-fire barrier in time to avoid being completely scorched, but it still singed his wrist distinctly. Well, there was his excuse to talk to Wen Qing after this.
He blocked several blows from its talons, careful to block with the flat of his sword to avoid accidentally cutting its hands. Then, finally, he found a chance to grab its wrist and pull it forward; he hoped the sudden movement would startle the dragon into trying to read his next move, and the contact made sure there wasn’t anything preventing the skill from working even if it was rarely practiced. He was relieved when his prediction was right, and he felt a string, albeit a weak one, connect their minds. Lan Zhan focused on his own desire to help the dragon as much as possible, even as he made a show of tossing it away from him for the audience’s benefit.
In that moment, Lan Zhan could feel the dragon’s fear, how they hated their masters but didn’t know anything else in life. And Lan Zhan could tell, by the startled, confused look on their face that they had heard his intent as well. Likely, no one had ever wished them kindness before.
‘I want to help you. But we must seem to fight for the crowd. Do you understand?’ Lan Zhan thought at them.
‘…I do.’
The dragon charged again, snapping ferociously, and Lan Zhan made a few swings at it with his sword between dodges as they continued their conversation. Lan Zhan was glad the dragon was at least old enough to know basic speech – likely closer to being an older child than a true infant.
‘Are you ever alone? Away from the guards?’
‘At night…but they are not far from me. What do you want?’
‘If you can sneak out, I am held in the fourth cell in the southern block. Otherwise, I will see if any of my friends can help free you.’
‘Friends…?’
‘Yes.’
‘No friends.’
‘They can help. They would want to help.’
‘They could be lying to you. No friends. I’ll find a way. Are you alone in your cell?’
‘Yes. But Wei Ying – a friend – can hear from the other cell.’
‘I’ll be quiet.’
They didn’t speak for the rest of the faux fight, which ended when the dragon pretended to be defeated, too weak to stand up. Afterwards, he was quickly led to the healer tent, where the strongest and most respected disciples were tended to by Wen Qing herself. She looked at the burned wrist with disapproval.
“What were they thinking,” she muttered, mostly to herself, as she started tending to the wound.
“Did you know about this?” Lan Zhan asks. He couldn’t blame her if she did and hadn’t done much; despite having more freedom of movement than any other prisoner she had her own limitations as long as Wen Ning was being made to fight as well. But it helped to know how much she did or didn’t have access to.
“I heard a lot of rumors, but most of the time those are just nonsense. I didn’t expect they’d be stupid enough to try and control a dragon, let alone reckless enough to toss a poorly trained one at their prisoners. They won’t have any fighters left to watch once that thing grows up at this rate,”
“They’re being cruel to it,” he says, not to justify any murder it may commit in the future, but because that seemed the most important part of the situation; and the only part that they have any chance of changing.
“Of course they are, they’re cruel to anything they see as beneath them. But unless it breaks out itself, I can’t exactly go and visit it.” She said, and though she was brusque it was clear in her eyes how much she disapproved of it as well. But Lan Zhan had implicitly promised not to tell anyone about the dragon communicating with him, or their agreement to meet.
“Any other updates?” he asked.
“Nothing immediately useful, there’s still a bit of a stalemate going on in the Front, but the resistance is doing well enough in smaller parts. That’s what the most recent meeting was about, but they haven’t decided on their next strategy yet. Still no word on where they took your uncle.” She reported quickly as she finished wrapping up his wrist. He nodded solemnly in acknowledgement. Getting up, he moved to leave the room.
“Be careful, Lan Wangji,” Wen Qing said.
“…Please also be careful, Wen Qing,” he responded, and then left to be taken back for several more matches before being put back in prison. It was all they could really do for each other most days, making sure they knew that at least someone was still thinking about their own safety as well.
In the silence of his dreary cell, Lan Zhan was finding meditation harder than usual. He had no idea how the dragon was going to come to him, if they even could, and if they couldn’t, would they be killed for it? Would they wait for a better opportunity? Not knowing was making him more anxious than usual, and he already had plenty of reasons to find his situation stressful. Wei Ying wasn’t in his cell either, which meant he was working, and that was yet another reason to worry.
Some time later, when exhaustion was beginning to settle in properly, he heard something thumping behind the back wall. The sound grew more intense until a portion of the wall broke with a crack, and there was the dragon pulling itself clumsily but with great vigor through the opening. Once fully freed of the wall, the dragon smoothed out their posture and then stared expectantly at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan stared back, nearly expressionless, but also with an expectant tint. The dragon’s gaze grew almost impatient. Lan Zhan stared with the slightest hint of exasperation. The dragon, determined, grew more purposeful in their staring.
“…That wasn’t quiet.” Lan Zhan finally said, breaking the silence. The dragon nearly pouted at that, but relaxed and inched closer to him.
‘Can you still hear me?’ the dragon thought.
‘Yes.’
‘Did your friend hear me too?’
‘No. He’s not in his cell at this time.’
‘Good. This was the only way to get here. My absence shouldn’t be noticed for the next hour.’
Lan Zhan thought about what to say next. There was a lot he wanted to know about, a lot of potential if they could stay on good terms, but he didn’t want to move too fast. The dragon was young and had only seen his thoughts briefly, any amount of distrust would still be entirely justified.
‘I could…treat your wounds. The whip marks at least.’ He settled for. Unfortunately, he wasn’t equipped to heal frostbite, but he could give enough spiritual power to making the dragon’s natural healing faster. He also wished he had some kind of food or water to share, for the dragon was clearly malnourished, but he was typically only given food directly before and after combat himself. He felt the dragon reconnect their emotions before they responded.
‘…Alright.’ They moved close enough for Lan Zhan to start the healing process. For a while they sat in silence, Lan Zhan focusing on healing each wound properly without exhausting himself beyond repair, and the dragon stared intensely, watching for any sudden movements or changes in intent.
‘Do you have a name?’ Lan Zhan asked once he had done what he could.
‘No. They wouldn’t care to give me a proper name. You must have one though, all the humans I’ve met do.’
‘Yes. Lan Wangji. Do you want to choose a name?’
‘Choose one? I don’t know any good names, I don’t like my masters and it would be weird to call myself the same as you. Pick one for me?’ the dragon said, half asking and half demanding. Lan Zhan thought hard about what would be a good name for his new companion.
‘…Jiahao. From ‘family’ and ‘brave’.’ The dragon seemed to mull it over.
‘Okay. It’s good. I’m Jiahao now, Lan Wangji. Now that we both have names, tell me why you want to help me. It’s weird.’
‘It’s the right thing to do.’
‘You tell the truth, but that isn’t the only reason, right? Only the original one?’
‘It would be worse for everyone if you stayed in captivity.’
‘Everyone as in your friends?’
‘Everyone as in everyone.’
They stared at each other for a while longer after this. Jiahao’s look was one of deep skepticism, as if he was wondering if he just wasn’t skilled enough yet to sense the deeper, worse intentions under the surface. Lan Zhan met the gaze with one of neutral sincerity.
‘…Fine then. I’m staying here now. I don’t want to go back to my masters.’ Jiahao announced. Lan Zhan wasn’t sure what to do about this. It would cause him trouble if Jiahao stayed, and that trouble could reach his family or other innocents. But even if Jiahao left, the hole in the wall wasn’t easy to fix, and it was decidedly possible they wouldn’t be able to make it back here a second time.
‘You don’t have to worry, if the guards come, I can kill and eat them.’
‘You’re too small to eat them.’
‘No, I could do it. Okay, maybe not all of them, humans are big, but some of them!’
‘…Do not eat them, Jiahao.’
‘Huh? Well why not? They’re awful and I’m hungry.’
‘It’s wrong. Also, impractical. Many more will come and innocent people will get hurt.’
‘Will your friends get hurt?’
‘Most likely.’ Jiahao sighed and curled up near Lan Zhan.
‘Fine. I won’t eat them. And I’ll find another place to hide for a little while. I’ll even fix the wall. But you better find a way to bring me some food, ok?’
‘Mn.'
‘Good. I can sleep here a few hours first though, right? Right. Goodnight, Lan Wangji.’ They said, and then closed their eyes. Across the link, Lan Zhan could feel that some of Jiahao’s arrogance was artificial, and that they were still exceptionally nervous, so he let them rest for now. The two of them could figure out the details later, and hopefully Lan Zhan could convince them to collaborate with his friends. They’d have a much better chance at escape that way. Maybe they could even finally find a way to free the clan leaders. But for now, it was enough that Jiahao was safe. He may even start to like the dragon as a friend.
For the first time since forming an alliance with Wen Qing and her brother, Lan Zhan closed his eyes and fell into rest with a sense of hope.