Chapter Text
Olienne is quite an adult dragon, and very old at that. He proudly carries the title of the oldest dragon in the Eastern continent.
In his youth he loved to travel around the world; he has made many acquaintances with members of different races. He had made friends with representatives of beast tribes, had drunk with vampires, had visited the Elves, both light and dark. But one race he had found interesting in particular.
Compared to others – and especially the dragons, second to only gods themselves, – humans were weak. They were fragile and short-lived little things. Olienne had seen many kingdoms rise and fall and many humans die, be it with blades and arrows surrounding them or warm words of affection. Only a little amount of them made it to one hundred years – a tenth of his lifespan.
And yet, humans persisted. Like birds made of fire and light, they would rise to challenges and adapt. The history describes the Ancient Times, when powerful individuals appeared, able to burn, judge and protect. His mother taught him of a family that could stand their Dragon Fear and fight unfrightened.
So once Olienne was old enough to travel freely, he would seek out human establishments. He would converse with them at taverns, buy their craft at markets and laugh with them at festivals. He would listen to tale after tale, sometimes feeling like he is doing research.
But as he grew older, his longing for solitude grew stronger, too. He would settle in a forest obscured by fog and spend his days studying or painting. It was calm for a few years, until the word broke out of a dragon granting wishes.
Somehow, humans managed to find his lair. They would praise him – Olienne never said no to it – and ask for blessings, and Olienne would grace them with a bit of advice; that was all he could offer to such dedicated beings. But then he would turn them away and tell them to never come back. He turned one very insistent human into a tree after they refused to leave. As much as he loved their stubbornness, everything had a limit!
After a short time of contemplation, he decided to move out. His first lair was fresh and remarkably bare, as he had just started adjusting it to him. Thankfully, he wasted only a little of his time here, so it was easier to cut losses and leave.
He built his second lair in a mountain located deep in the forest. He decorated the inside with paintings, sculptures, books and carved furniture. In the morning, when the sun shines bright, he would take a stroll in the forest, spend time surrounded by animals and whisper to the trees; in the evening, when only hoots of owls are heard, he would relax in a bath and work on a new project. No human would bother him and no stray monster would make it to his home.
Which makes the unfamiliar presence in his forest odd.
A traveler, perhaps? Olienne thinks, his disturbed mana following the stranger. The being leaves shapes in the air filled with magic, but as they move, so does magic, filling in blanks. A human.
Not too far from Olienne’s forest is a city that is often frequent with merchants and mercenaries. It makes sense if one of the travelling humans stumbled across his forest, as that has happened before.
They never stay for long, though. In the morning, the trees would whisper to him of the animals’ mischief as they chased the unwelcomed guests away.
Olienne closes his eyes. Yes, in the morning, the traveler will be gone; no one wants to become meals for bears and wild boars.
The traveler is still there when Olienne wakes up. Which is, again, odd, since by the time every poor soul is usually far, far away from the forest. And yet, it feels like the stranger made themself at home here.
Olienne immediately interrogates the plants, who he knows have been gossiping with each other. They refuse to tell the truth and bat their leaves at him playfully.
They were probably running around all night and fell asleep on a branch somewhere, they say. Olienne is skeptical.
He decides to give it another day. Surely, they will realise that this place is unsafe for them, right?
The traveler doesn’t leave that day. Or the next day. Or the day after.
At some point Olienne worries that the human is actually unconscious and that is why nothing seems to bother them, but the constant movement of mana tells him otherwise.
Finally, Olienne decides to take matters in his own hands and chase away the lucky human himself.
Ridiculous, he swears in his mind. Just ridiculous.
In front of him lies a stranger, being cuddled by at least five deers – one of them acts as a pillow – and several mice. A couple of goldfinches hold on to his boots, while a jay nests in his wine red hair. A snake slithers up his arm, completely unbothered by easy prey.
All of the creatures seem comfortable with the stranger, while he naps on soft grass and leaves. Even the flowers seem to lower their stems, as if trying to get a better glimpse of him.
In a moment Olienne understands the creatures’ gentleness towards the traveler: he appeared to be a child.
The boy has a soft appearance and looks borderline fragile while deep in slumber. The dragon can see a sword and a couple of knives, but the abundance of weapons still doesn't make him look threatening; he comes off more like a scared stray that has just found a perfect hideout.
Olienne sighs, and the birds click their beaks repeatedly; they are laughing at him. He can do nothing but glare in their direction, while they continue watching their entertainment.
The boy stirs in his sleep and twitches once, before his eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes. The reddish brown eyes focus on him and, after two beats, shake as the human takes in the standing being.
“Awake, little one?” Olienne asks. The jay jumps from the boy’s hair to his shoulder, while deers rise to give him space; other birds fly off, landing on the branches of the surrounding trees, and the snake nestles in the crook of his arm.
The dragon recalls the folklore the humans told him centuries ago: fairy tales of princesses loved by nature, who could talk to animals and sing with them.
How hilarious, he snickers to himself.
Looks like the tales have bits of truth in them, after all.