Chapter Text
The doors opened with a rusty squeal, scraping against the stone floor. The sounds echoed, and we were roused from our boredom with the prospect of change. Four pairs of footsteps entered, two stopping by the doors that were just out of sight.
“Mycroft, you’ve read the same papers as I, and there is no doubt you’ve paid more attention to them since you have little else to do. We both know that dragons are incapable of intelligent thought, let alone speaking. I don’t understand why you think I need one.” The first voice was deep, disgust underlying his words. Once, the tone would have bothered me, but now it was expected. The humans were so disappointed with their conquest.
What a pity.
“Little brother, just this once, don’t fight me.” The second voice wasn’t quite as deep, and held the note of a parent being patient with an unruly child.
I peered at the two humans curiously. It had been a long time since humans had entered these cages, and most of us had grown resigned to our fate to die without seeing the sky for a last time. Ever since the humans had captured and caged us, the sky, our sanctuary and our playground, was gone.
We’d always said we would fight the humans. When we physically could not fight anymore, we fell into the act of playing dumb. The strategy of keeping our intelligence secret hadn’t exactly been favourable in the days of the war, but even as an egg I’d understood the necessity. That didn’t mean I was prepared to be torn from my mother’s care barely a week after the decision had been made.
Forced hatchings. The humans weren’t to know that this almost always resulted in death for the hatchlings, and as such many of the unborn dragons were needlessly killed. The loss hadn’t been anticipated, and so the humans had taken the surviving females away to breed. My mother had worked a curious piece of magic – the kind that was the work of an instant, instinctual and uncontrollable – over me before she’d been dragged away. When I hatched, I was a tiny male dragon.
The two humans – true-brothers, judging by the words and the scent that came from both – walked slowly down the corridor, peering into the cages as they did so. Both men had hard, analytical looks on their faces. I watched, silent, as some – alright, all – of my brothers lunged and snarled at the two. The taller one rolled his eyes, looking more exasperated than anything else.
“Dull beasts. So predictable,” he muttered. He turned to glare at his true-brother. “Mycroft, this is ridiculous.”
I drew away from the bars in front of my cage, the chain dragging across the stone floor and making a hideous noise I had long since grown used to. Laying down against the back wall, I scratched idly at my collar, my claws sliding over my scales without leaving a mark. The only dragon scales that could be scratched were those that were newly formed.
“Where is this one?” I glanced up, startled to find the two men peering into my cage. After one of my kin had killed himself with the electricity the lights used, the cages had been kept dark. The humans believed it an accident, but we all knew better.
A life in a cage is no life at all.
Behind the men, in the cage opposite mine, Hirador’s tail lashed out, the deadly spikes barely missing the soft humans. The breath of air alerted the men to their peril, and they turned as one. My true-brother hissed a warning, lashing his tail again.
“No wonder this one hasn’t been taken,” the one called Mycroft murmured.
“Shut up, Mycroft.” The taller one glanced between the two cages. “Where is he?”
Hirador snarled, snapping angrily at the men. I would have sighed if I wasn’t already growling very softly. He was always so protective.
“Odd,” the human muttered. “Get the guide in here, Mycroft.”
The familiar scent of the handler made my scales rattle. Furious snarls accompanied the sound of his soft footfalls. When he came into view, Hirador and I let out simultaneous hisses. He didn’t look like much, honestly, but beneath his easy smile and calm demeanour lived a hideous creature that lived off of others’ pain.
“How can I –” the handler started, but the taller man cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“What is the relationship between these two?” he asked abruptly.
The handler gave him a practised smile. “They are from the same clutch,” he said. “Both have the same mother.”
“Why aren’t they housed in different facilities?” Mycroft asked in a deceptively cool voice. “That is usual procedure, is it not?”
The handler’s smile faltered, and I wished I could laugh. It was wonderful to see the human in discomfort. “There was… an incident. When we tried to separate them.”
“Oh?” Mycroft said softly.
“How many did he kill?” the brother asked bluntly, gesturing to Hirador.
“None,” the handler admitted reluctantly, fidgeting under the combined stares of the brothers. I was enjoying this immensely.
“Oh?” Mycroft repeated.
“This one killed four,” the handler finished, jerking his head at my cage. There was a moment of silence.
“Fascinating,” the taller human breathed. “Then this is the Ripper Dragon?” The handler nodded. “Oh, this is fantastic. Mycroft, I want him!”
“What?” The handler gaped.
“What?” Mycroft looked mildly upset.
What? I whispered to myself.
“Oh come now, I won’t repeat myself. Bring me the papers I have to sign so I can leave.”
The handler glanced helplessly at Mycroft, who merely raised an eyebrow. The man fled. The rest of the dragons mocked him, tails lashing out to trip the man who made our lives horrible. Mycroft turned back to the brother.
“Are you sure, little brother?”
He was almost wriggling with excitement. “The Ripper Dragon, Mycroft! What better dragon to study? What better dragon for me?”
Mycroft heaved a sigh. “Mummy will worry,” he warned. The other man scoffed.
“Oh, please, Mycroft. Mummy would be as ecstatic as a child with a new toy.”
“At least we know where you get it from,” Mycroft murmured. I got the feeling he was all out of patience.
The handler returned with the papers, which were signed and handed back so quickly I was sure the man had missed one. But apparently all was in order, because the handler ordered them to step away from the cage as he pushed in the key.
“Don’t you need any protection?” Sherlock asked dubiously.
The handler shook his head. “He won’t attack me. I’m not above using physical means in order to gain their obedience, unlike some soft-hearted fools.” He tugged at my chain. “Out. Now.”
I rose to my feet and stalked out, eyes immediately adjusting to the brighter light of the hall. Despite my best attempts, I knew my scales were dirty and my claws duller than they should be. I was gratified when the humans stared, scenting their fear. I yawned, showing off my fangs before huffing smoke at the handler.
“He’s a Jewelled,” Mycroft noted in surprise.
The handler nodded, wiping soot from his face and glaring at me. “Only male one we’ve seen,” he informed them. “His brother is your average Red, and none of their siblings survived the hatchings. We don’t know if it’s inherited or not.”
I arched my neck, eyeing the two strange humans before growling lowly. Mycroft stepped away hastily, but the tall one watched me with interest. I puffed out another bit of smoke and went to Hirador’s cage. He thrust his snout out, nuzzling. I growled gently.
"Well," I sighed into his mind. "I suppose this is it."
"I’ll see you again," Hirador muttered back. "I’ll come find you the next time someone buys me."
I bared my teeth in the mimic of a smile. "Tell me if he hurts you. I’ll make him regret it, I promise." I nudged his snout away and turned back to the small gathering of humans.
“If that’s all,” the tall man – my new owner – snapped sharply. “I have places to be.”
I lowered my head so that our eyes were level. I observed him critically with one eye. He was dressed in finery, indicating a certain degree of wealth. Like his brother, he held himself with a confidence that I rarely saw in those who walked through our door. But where his brother was calm, my owner radiated focus. I doubted there was much those sharp eyes missed.
I snorted and raised my head, stretching my limbs out. My wings snapped open, and I wished I could fly again. There had been a brief period of time when I was deemed ‘too young’ to be trained where I had had the freedom to embrace the sky. The collar around my throat kept me attached to the ground, but with the air beneath my wings I hadn’t really minded.
My owner snatched the chain from the handler’s hands and marched away. I followed, my claws clicking against the hard stone ground. He paused at the door to look back at my handler.
“Your use of physical abuse on the dragons in your care isn’t a measure of the strength of your heart,” he said abruptly. “You like to cause pain, and causing pain on a dragon – a creature that should be able to defend itself against you without a problem – makes you feel powerful. No doubt you tell fantasised stories in order to attract a partner. Your partner last night didn’t care much for your idea of lovemaking, though. How is your foot?” he asked innocently, and then he swept out the door.
I followed, peering over my shoulder to see the handler’s face had turned pale, although his cheeks were red with anger. He opened his mouth, but the door closed between us before a word escaped his lips.