Chapter Text
He was running for his life through the woods, smacking himself on the head for how much of a stupid fucking idiot he had been. Never trust a human, was what Bro had always told him, yet he let a pair of bright, sky blue eyes get the better of him.
This man’s name is Dave Strider, and boy is he in a lot of shit.
He and his brothers aren’t exactly “Normal”. In fact, they aren’t even close to normal. The Striders come from a long line of half Blood-dragons, meaning they’re, well, half winged fire breathing fucking lizards.
Yeah, not even close to normal.
There are actually a lot of their kind, him and his brother being the purest of the bloodline. The second closest would have to be the blind dragon chick Terezi. Terezi, her sis, Latula, and their mother are part of the royal court, advising the Striders when justice should happen or for when mercy take its place. Being the most pure, the Striders bloodline have lead their race for millennium, with Dave’s bro, Dirk, taking the throne in a matter of months.
However, Dave couldn’t give a flying fuck about whose taking the throne, as he was holding his side, crimson blood sliding down and mingling between ruby red scales, and ignoring the pain of his half sliced off wing, unable to use his magic to absorb it or change his form.
He was running through the wood towards what he thought (hoped) was the way to the entrance to the underground world he called home. He thought back to how he got himself in this mess. Dave had followed a raven haired, blue eyed dude from the village.
The Village the guy came from is the closest to the entrance to their underground world, and Dave hated being underground all the time, so today he had snuck out to check out the village, it being a few mile away. At that point in time he was in his most human form, his bright red eyes hidden through tinted glasses. When he walked through the town, which he soon found was named “Skia”, he had spotted the guy walk out of a bakery carrying a basket, a blue plaid napkin over it. He didn’t know why, but he was drawn to the guy. He had started followed him, and he had since named him “dork” due to the dorky pair of glasses the blue eyed dude had on. “Dork” had left the safety of the village and had traveled along an old beaten dirt path that was surrounded by the forest.
Dave, being impatient, decided to change into his true half dragon form as soon as the village was out of site. He then followed the Dork, stealthily climbing a tree and following from above, making mental notes about the kid. He was about Dave’s age, or the closest equivalent to it in human years. Dave was hundreds of years old, but his age equalled that of a 17 year old dragon, the boy below him looked about 16 or so. The Dork had uncontrollable black hair, that had a tint of blue to it, and it flared out every which direction with a slight curve. Dave couldn’t believe how messy it was. He was a dragon, and yet his hair was far better groomed than that human. He rolled his eyes, thinking, what a dork, but continued to look at the carefree guy as he twirled around on the palms of his feet down the path. He also noted the bright sky blue of his eyes and the slight over bite and buck teeth the guy had. While looking at his apparel Dave only then realized how poor the kid looked. He was wearing tatter, beaten up clothes, which held some tint or shade of blue to them, and he had nothing on his feet.
Dace frowned, unknowing what made money so important to these people. It hindered others ability to live, and having too much made some people go crazy with power. He had wondered how these people, who are descendants of his ancestors just as much as he, ever thought of such a ridiculous idea. Ignoring obvious criticism to the culture he turned back to the dork, who had since moved a good sized tree off the path. The boy below looked buff, and well feed. Dave sniff the air and noted how the guy smelt like cakes. He probably works for the bakery or the farmers, though Dave as he hurried from tree to tree to keep up with the guy.
Soon they had come upon a small waterfall, if you could even call it that, with a thin, narrow stream feeding it. At the bottom it pooled into a clear, waist deep pond. To the left, beside a huge tree, which looked nearly as old as Dave’s bro, stood a heart shaped stone. The Blue eyed boy had made his way over to it, as did Dave. Dave stealthily slid into the old tree and perched just above where the boy was, laying on his stomach and letting his appendages hang loosely.
---The edges of Dave’s vision started to blur, turning the dark forest around him into dark shadows. He was losing a lot of blood and slowing down. However, when he hear the blue eyed boy call his name from a short distance away, he picked up speed once more, legs aching from the sprinting.---
The boy pulled out a blanket from the basket (turns out that napkin was actually a huge ass blue plaid blanket), and two pieces of cake. Dave’s mouth began to water cause FUCK that smelt good. The guy put one piece down at the base of the stone, and the other in front of him. Dave had saw the sad look on the guys face, and it was heart breaking.
“Hey mom…,” the guy spoke, his voice was sweet and calm, “It’s me, your son, John.”
John. Dave had mouthed the name and smirked. He began to think that maybe he’d ask John for a piece of ca-
“I brought you some of dad’s homemade cake, like I do every year! It’s been a while since I came to see you… I’m sorry about that. There’s been a lot of problems at the bakery! Though you probably already know,” Here he lets out a small laugh, though it’s filled with more sadness then humour, “anyways, dad gave me the day off and I thought I’d come here early.” John had since laid his hand out on the stone and wiped some dust and dirt from the edges and smiled softly at it.
Dave had felt as if his heart was being stabbed. He remembered how for most of the afternoon he mostly just watched the boy talk to the stone, his mom, and look about aimlessly. He had found out the guys last name is Egbert (Dave totally decided that name was hilarious) and that today was his 16th birthday (called it). But once John started going on about theatre and this actor name Mchono-whatever, Dave had zoned out and began to think as the sun started to set.
Dave had thought of his parents, this whole thing bring back little memories of them. Their father had married the Queen, their mother, and had them. Their mother had lovely, bright yellow scales, and their farther a dark burgundy. Dirk, being a few hundred years older than himself, had known them a lot longer than Dave. When Dave had turned about 500 and some years old (he was about the size of a human 6 month old, but he was able to comprehend as much as any 5 year old, which is why his memories of this time are still fuzzy) a great war between the humans and the dragons broke out, their people caught in the midst. Dave only remembered his parents, both of them, having to go and fight. Their people had eventually sided with the dragons after the humans started to lash out at them too because of their half blood. After they had left to fight, he never saw them again. Since then his bro, Dirk, had started learning how to become a king. Dirk didn’t take anything well, however, and had self-destructive tendencies. He locked himself away in his chamber, cursing anyone who disturbed him. He kept a stoic expression constantly, only ever revealing anger or mistrust in his features, and he often strifes with Dave or any guards when he had too much stress. Sometimes he would overdo it and leave a deep gash on his opponent. He never meant to do it, Dave knew this much, but others didn’t and soon started to fear him. This only encouraged Dirk to lock himself away, keeping few close friends by his side.
Dave had been pulled from his thoughts by a blood curdling scream.
Dave’s eyes had shot down below him, where John was pushed up against the tree, his facile features contorting into pure horror. Dave’s eyes had shot forward to see a hulking, green mass just behind the leaves of the tree. Orc, was all Dave thought before he jumped quietly into the crouching position on the branch. When Dave moved closer to the outer edge of the branch, Dave got a better look of the hideous monster. Its skin was an ugly, vile green; it was wearing a feathered necklace with bones as the main decorations; its nose was short and scrunched, several small bone piercings through it, its eyes small but wide at the same time, and it had no hair on its head. It was wearing the skin of its prey, carrying a huge bone and wood club, and smiling down at John with a hideous, crooked, wicked smile.
The orc laughed at Johns screams when he approached, causing a low growl to emanate from Dave in anger. He HATE creatures like that, ones that took pleasure in others misery. The growl was what gave him away. John and the orc had stopped in their tracks and looked up in the tree. Dave looked down at John, who eyes were blown wide. From fear or awe, he couldn’t tell at that point or give a shit about. He then looked at the Orc who could barely see him, but see him none the less.
---Dave’s vision depleting further. He had taken the remains of his burgundy shirt and tied it around the gashes on his arms and body, however he couldn’t do anything about his wing. He heard footsteps, but they sounded so distant he wasn’t sure if John would pass him until he saw the black mop of hair and blue eyes coming through the bush, only then realizing that his hearing must be weakening too with the blood loss…---
The Orc had let out a ground shaking cry, and began to charge upon seeing the scales. Dave bared his teeth and lunged at the Orc before he could hurt John. In all honest, Dave didn’t know just WHY he was doing all this for John (even now, as he slowed to a halt and collapsed on a bolder due to the blood lost and exhaustion, just a few hundred feet away from the entrance to his home, he still doesn’t know), a guy he never meet, let alone a HUMAN, but some part of him told him it was for the best.
John let out a scream when Dave and the Orc collided, a bundle of red scales and feather amongst green and pelts. Dave had scratched at the orc, his talons digging in and ripping the flesh on the monsters chest and arms to the bone, his teeth digging into the shoulder which arm held the weapon, trying to dislocate or severe it all together.
The Orc wasn’t having any of his shit.
It had body slammed that side of its body onto the ground, crushing Dave under its massive weight. He let go as his breath was knocked out of him, giving the Orc the opportunity to get up, turn around and slam its club down onto Dave’s right wing. Dave had let out a scream of agony because the amount of force caused his wing to fucking break, and man did he feel it. The Orc repeated this movement until the joint of his wing was nearly falling apart and severing his wing in two. The monster then reached down and picked up the whimpering and crying Dave. Yep, all cool dragon look gone, because his wing was broken, and the chance of it healing properly in this condition was impossible, and he knew it. The Orc took hold of Dave throat, causing Dave to claw at it as he began to suffocate.
Just as Dave’s vision started to blotch, he heard a voice, a yell. The Orcs head had snapped to the side, while Dave slowly, barely turning his head before he caught sight of John who….
Well… shit…
John’s eyes had started to glow a bright blue, his hands balled up into fists, blue magic emanating from his eyes, core and fists. He was standing on the heart rock under the Tree with the most pissed off face I think he could muster, fear still present as well. The wind picked up considerably and it started to knock the Orc around, so much so that he dropped Dave to the ground.
CRACK… well there goes my hand, thought Dave as he laid on the ground and winced in pain.
The wind then picked up tenfold, and started to pic the Orc up in the dark evening sky (Dave realized only now how dark it actually had gotten, thank god for his slight night vision), the Orc howling in protest the whole way. It was nearly 600 feet in the air when the wind moved it a few miles east, away from the village and Cave entrance (Thank Fuck). Then it stopped abruptly. Dave watched as the Orc plummeted to earth, only to disappear behind the tree line. But he knew it hit the ground and wasn’t getting back up when he could feel the vibrations of it from here.
Dave remembered slowly siting up and checking himself. He had a broken hand and a nearly severed wing, which, with the rest of the deep gashes on his arms and torso, were bleeding pretty badly. When Dave had felt a hand on his shoulder he jumped and spun around, tackling the culprit… John. Of. Fucking. Course.
The guy’s eyes were no longer glowing, nor was any part of him for that matter. However his eyes and face had look to them that said he was scared and… worried?
Dave had quickly gotten off of John, who stood up just as fast and approached him. Dave started to back up, but when John didn’t stop, he turn and bolted as fast as he could with all these injuries, John running after him at a much slower rate.
And that’s how Dave got here, laying against a boulder, bloodied and wrecked, just a few years from safety, with a Blue eyed, raven haired boy named John-Fucking-windy-boy-Egbert staring him down just a few feet away. Dave adverted his eyes and cursed, knowing John followed the blood trail he had left.
John approached Dave, who flinched slightly, and sat down next to him. Dave had his eyes trained the opposite direction from John, and tensed up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t move, he was stuck, and that’s all he could do.
“Hey…,” said John softly and cautiously. Dave gulped and slowly turned and faced John, blood-red ruby eyes meeting elegant, sky blue ones.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he continued, “I’m here to help.”