Chapter Text
There were four rules Tommy knew, drilled into him by everyone in the village since he was born.
One, be careful of your words.
Words had power, tremendous power. Even something as simple as a name could be turned against you by the wrong person, and someone was always watching. In the whisper of the wind, or the grumble of an avalanche from one of the Mountains… something was always listening. So be careful what you say.
Two, don’t cross the yellow flowers.
Anything past the yellow flowers in the meadow was their territory, and if you strayed too far they were within their right to take you. The story of a young man, bright eyed and loved by the village, venturing up into the Mountains with only his armour and his wit to guide him was one Tommy had been told time and time again, a warning… the man hadn’t been seen in years, his sword found wedged into a tree trunk just meters from the village walls. So don’t go past the yellow flowers, and don’t even entertain the idea of stepping foot near the Mountains.
Three, it was an honour to be chosen as an offering.
Tommy had grown up watching the people chosen to represent the village with pity, always part of the crowd as they were ushered off into the woods, instructed to make their way out the flowers and towards the Mountains. It was a lottery, apparently. Totally random, a name drawn from a pool of everyone in the village by an Elder. The offering would be dressed in white linens and draped in gold jewellery, lathered in shining oils and makeup and sent on their way. They took them, as a promise not to terrorise the village… and it worked. For as long as Tommy could remember, they hadn’t come. Hell, he didn’t even know what they were, just some mythical and omnipresent thing he knew not to dwell on too often.
And four, it wasn’t polite to swear.
That was just a rule around the orphanage, but still… he’d been told it enough to stick a little.
…
“Fuck you!” Tommy screamed through snot filled screams, thrashing desperately against the ropes that kept him tied to a tree stump. “F-fuck you! Let-let me go! Please!”
He struggled, unable to get the rope to give even a little. The coarse thread rubbed against his wrists, the oil he’d been lathered in not doing much to help. The mountains of gold piled around his neck and arms weighed him down, making it an effort to thrash and twist and spit at the crowd of villagers watching from the safety of the meadow. Tommy felt his bare feet brush against daffodils beneath his feet, and he froze. He stopped his screaming, a pathetic sort of begging bubbling in his tear stricken voice, but no one listened.
The same people who had raised him, took him in when his parents died, who provided and made sure he was happy and healthy, just sat by idly as Tommy was cast out. Thrown into the woods and told that this was all for the greater good, that he was a big boy now and that meant he had to help keep the village safe, he understood that, right?
Tommy just sobbed as the crowd slowly trudged back to the safety of the village walls, laughter and chatter ringing out as they waded through the wildflowers… leaving him to the mercy of them , the air heavy and choking with the scent of smoke that had settled over the valley.
The boy cried, sobbing and blubbering in the shade of the large oak tree he’d been bound too, collapsing to his knees amongst the roots.
He was just a kid! Why did he have to go and face the monsters by himself, why him? Tommy curled in on himself, all alone in the forest, unable to do more than sit and wait to be eaten.
Cause that’s what they did! They took the offerings and ate them and used their bones as toothpicks and-and-
Tommy just sobbed.
He was fucked.
o0o
There was something in their territory.
Now Wilbur didn’t know this for sure, but from how his brother had been acting this morning he could make a pretty solid guess as to the reason. Even from his home on the other side of the valley, Wilbur could sense Techno’s unease. His twin’s grumbles were enough to shake the mountains, and the acrid scent of sulphuric fog that tumbled from Techno’s home across the valley and onto the village between them was a signifier that things were wrong.
Wilbur grumbled himself, coughing as he reached the base of the mountain. He skidded down from the rocks, feeling slightly clunky and impractical in his human form as he struggled not to fall over. As much as he loathed shifting into this gangly excuse of a human body, it was easier to patrol the outskirts of the village like this- less intimidating, apparently. Wilbur liked to argue that a towering creature with pale skin and shaggy hair who walked on two legs, two , was much more formidable than a fluffy feathered dragon, but he digressed.
Bare feet curled around the long grass as he wandered through the forest that sat around the edge of the bowl shaped valley they called their home. Wilbur would admit that sunlight did feel heavenly against skin rather than scales… he should do this more often, maybe.
His patrol of their territory was mostly satisfactory. Wilbur found a couple of deer snared in hunter’s traps, and he just tutted as he helped let them free.
Humans, so destructive .
Wilbur hummed to himself, a low tune as he completed his patrol of his territory, skirting around the ring of yellow flowers that separated his and his brother’s terrain and the village’s. Despite what the humans thought, the pretty little daffodils did nothing to stop them from entering their village… not that they would, because they had morals and generally didn’t go around burning settlements to the ground, thank you very much. Anymore.
Anyway…
It wasn’t until he’d almost completed his loop of the forest when he heard it. Wilbur had to strain his ears in his human form, but he could definitely hear it. A crying sound. A soft, high pitched sobbing, not dissimilar to the sound a hatchling would make if they were distressed.
A child.
Crying.
It was well known that dragons were pack creatures, possessive and loyal to a fault. Hatchlings were to be protected, cherished… they should never be in the situation where they should be so upset.
Wilbur immediately went towards the noise, shielding his eyes from the wavering sun as he tracked through the woods towards the tree line. He emerged on the edge of a wildflower meadow, the village on the other side of the field. Sunlight pooled through the trees above him, illuminating the source of the crying.
There, tied (Wilbur tried his best not to snarl at the sight) to a large oak tree, was a child. A young child, he thought, not that Wilbur knew human ages particularly well. They were hunched amongst the roots, sobbing as they wiped at their face, desperately trying to wash away the tears in their crystalline eyes. Though most importantly, they were blonde… a nest of spun gold, the sunlight catching the strands beautifully. Wilbur couldn’t help as his pupils dilated, unable to tear himself away from the crying child.
Techno would love him.
He shifted, the leaves under foot crunching, and the boy looked up, red streaked cheeks paling at the sight of him.
…
“Stay-stay the fuck back!” Tommy’s voice was hoarse and absolutely dripping in fear, and he couldn’t help but wince as he pushed himself further into the bark. The-the fucking creature - still lurked in the shadows in front of him, only the shine of his eyes visible amongst the tree trunks.
Whatever that thing was, it wasn't human.
“That’s fine…” its voice was low and musical, a soothing sort of rumble to its cadence from the shadows. Tommy could vaguely see it raise its hands in mock submission. “I’ll stay right here.”
…
“Oh you’re so scared,” it crooned, the sound of fabric rustling as it moved. “It’s okay, little one. I won’t bite… can you tell me-“
“Fuck off!”
It sighed, and Tommy stiffened, fear tracing down his spine like a cold finger. “I’ll stay back, okay? I’ll stay back here… can you tell me why you’re tied up? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“… please don’t eat me,” Tommy said quietly, tucking his legs up higher to his chin. The creature tilted its head slightly, confused.
“Eat you?” The thing sounded exasperated, its voice high and reedy. “Why on earth would I want to eat you? That's-that's just absurd, little one!”
Tommy only managed to choke out “cause you’re one of them !” before he burst into tears again, chest heaving as he sobbed. He winced as he heard footsteps approach, looking up with wavering lip to see the creature stepping out of the shadow.
It looked… it looked vaguely human, but in the same way Tommy’s reflection in the fountain water was human. Sure, it had two arms and two long legs, it had fluffy brown hair and golden eyes creased behind a pair of wire spectacles. It wore human clothes, a loose knitted yellow jumper and plain trousers with too many patches and threads, no shoes… but something was off. When it smiled, it’s teeth were too many, too sharp. Its nails were too pointed, dark and sharpened to the point of being claws, and if he looked hard enough, he could swear he could see the iridescent glint of scales around its cheekbones.
“I think we may have got off on the wrong foot,” it said, speaking softly as it crouched down a few feet away from Tommy’s huddled form. “My name is Wilbur, and I live up in the mountains-“ it’s brow creased as Tommy whimpered. “So yes, little one. I am one of them , as you put it… but I’m not going to eat you. I promise not even a hair on your head will ever get hurt.”
Tommy was hysteric now, all that left his mouth was an incoherent stream of babbled protests and begging, pleading not to be eaten. He practically screeched as Wilbur gently untied the rope around his wrists and swept him into his arms.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay little one,” Wilbur cooed, making an odd sort of clicking noise with his tongue as he held the struggling child closer, ignoring the way Tommy writhed and squirmed. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Please stop wriggling, please?”
Tommy just let out a choked noise, snotty and croaking and hoarse as he screamed.
Wilbur just sighed, dodging the boy’s flailing arms.
“Alright, guess not… Can I know your name, at least?”
“No? No name for you little one?” Wilbur’s voice turned teasing, running a clawed finger down the child’s cheek, wiping away the tears. “That’s fine, that is perfectly fine! Perhaps we can name you later, Techno will love that… but for now I’ll just call you sundrop. My perfect little ray of sunshine.”
“I’m not yours, fuckhead,” Tommy snarled, spitting and trying to bite at the hands stopping him from bolting.
“Well technically, I think you’ll find that you’re in my territory, which is past the yellow flowers, so that makes you mine! But don’t worry, you’ll be well looked after, you’ll learn that dragons look after their hoards.”
Dragons?? Wilbur was a fucking dragon? Tommy was well and truly fucked, dragons were possessive, territorial creatures who never departed with their belongings, ever… and Tommy was now part of its hoard.
Oh god, he was so fucked…
He stopped screaming, defeated as the dragon held him close to his chest, cradled and rocked as if to soothe. That didn’t stop his crying, tucking his head into Wilbur’s sweater, no doubt leaving wet marks into the wool. All the while those sharp nails never lever his hair, coiling and twisting and curling and admiring.
“I can feel your heart going at a million miles a minute sundrop,” Wilbur said, almost whispering as he paced back into the tree line. The hum of his village slowly faded from behind him, replaced by the quiet crunch of the leaves under Wilbur’s feet and the low siren song of the forest, beckoning them up to the Mountains.
“You’re so scared, and I’m sorry, but you can rest now,” Wilbur continued, despite Tommy’s silent sobbing… which was concerning. Hatchlings cry because they want attention, need help or because they’re hurt, or afraid. If they cry silently, it’s because they can't stop themselves… or if they’re scared. “But I swear to you sundrop, you’re safe now. Nothing will ever harm you, you’ll never go without or be hungry, okay?”
Wilbur hummed, infusing a little bit of magic into his voice as he sang, a lullaby spilling from his lips. In his arms, the hatchling shook his head, but his protests were sluggish, exhaustion dripping making his limbs heavy and eyelids flutter. Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh, tucking the hatchling closer as they dozed off.
“Rest little sundrop… I’ll be here when you wake, and we’ll be home and safe. I swear you’ll be safe.”
“I swear.”