Work Text:
There were layers to the wind—it grew wilder and thicker the higher you flew, but only up until a point. Here at the peaks of the mountains the sky was quiet, hushed with the wonder of a first snow.
Or maybe, like Eijirou, it was just intimidated by the languid stares of the great dragon council.
"State your quest, human," the great silver dragon said. Tatsuma—that was her name.
That was not for Eijirou. He was a dragon too, like these great ones here, though he was younger. At least, he had been reborn recently, so he was younger right now.
"I need a wish." The human was in fact Katsuki, who was not nearly as terrified of this situation as he probably should be, which was unfortunate, but kind of manly too.
The silver dragon did not move, but Eijirou could feel that if she were in human form, if she were wearing glasses, she would be pulling them down just slightly so that she could look over them and down at the unruly renegades before her. "In that case, you should have gone to the Fae."
"They aren't as good as you," Katsuki said, which was honestly a lot better of a response than Eijirou had been expecting.
"Flattery will not avail you," Tatsuma continued. "State your request."
"Every time Endeavor starts to feel good about himself, I want a bird to—to poop on his head."
Eijirou briefly considered changing forms, jumping from the precipice and flying circles of joy. The two of them had been discussing this side quest for weeks, gone over this entire conversation until it swam in both their ears before bed. He had been beginning to think that Katsuki really was going to give the dragon queen the colorful version.
"Tatsuma, you have got to do this." It was a smaller dragon, several seats to the right of the queen. "I will rage quit the council otherwise. This is the funniest thing I've heard in three centuries."
Emi , Eijirou supplied mentally—though he could not remember which life they had met in.
From the other side of the stadium, another dragon cleared his throat. He was old. Eijirou did not recognize him. "It would be good for the man too. King Todoroki could stand to learn some humility. If the punishment only comes when he thinks well of himself—perhaps he will learn not to think of himself at all."
"Your additions are heard," Tatsuma said, but she turned back to Katsuki. "Why do you want this."
"He got our friend killed," Eijirou said.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, probably wary of Eijirou's many warnings not to hyperbolize in the presence of such ancient beings. Still, Eijirou had learned over many years how to spot a dragon in human form. There was something in their expression, the look of someone who had met death and come back smiling.
Midoriya was human, but he had the same look in his eyes.
"The council does not grant wishes for revenge." That was Hari. He did not like to move things—rugs, boulders, or traditions.
"He murdered your friend," Tatsuma said, "And you want to punish him with...with defecation?"
Katsuki grinned wickedly. "Yes."
The wind got quieter. Eijirou had not noticed that it was moving at all until it stood still. There was something in Tatsuma's expression—something that gave him hope for this doomed quest.
She opened her eyes—the second eyelid—and they shone brighter, stranger. "Shouldn't he receive a punishment more deserving of his actions?"
Katsuki's shoulders went stiff, but he met her gaze. "I didn't."
Tatsuma nodded, and the wind began again. This was the finality of it—there would be no persuading her now. "The council does not grant wishes for revenge," she stated, but the cadence of her voice was not dismissal. "However, if I do not cast this spell of my own accord, Emi will leave my assembly, and she is a dear friend. Your request is granted—but not on your account."
"There's no difference," Katsuki said.
Hari, the immovable one, unfolded and refolded his wings. The gesture was vaguely threatening. "Human, you have not studied our law. We do not grant a wish twice."
"Return when you are in need," Tatsuma said, and her smile was almost fond. "Your wish will remain."