The rain stung against his skin it was freezing as he wandered through the woods his torn cloak doing little to protect him. Everything hurt he hadn't the power to fight back against a group of thieves as they tried to mug him. He was grateful his night vision was better than a human's letting him see his way through a haze of pain. He needed to hurry, but he wasn't sure what he needed to hurry for.
He could make out the light in the distance it was just a little ways more and then he would be there. He tripped over a stray root landing face first onto the muddy ground, he had to keep going. He couldn't stop not when he was so close. He had been searching forever to find them the one person who could save him from the chain that bound him.
He weakly pushed his way up with nearly toppling over again as he lost his balance. He used the tree to support him for a moment as he re oriented himself. He could make out the small cottage just ahead smoke coming from the chimney. He was almost there.
His feet were lead as he slowly trudged forward. Blackness flickered at the edges of his vision. It was just a few more steps, almost there.
A fist weakly slammed against the wooden door barely making a sound as he collapsed body slumping against the door with a loud bang nearly covered by a crash of thunder. Just as the darkness began to overtake his vision a bright light entered his sigh. 'He's here,' were Alfred's last thoughts before he succumbed to the dark pull over his mind.
A powerful clap of thunder bellowed all throughout the heavens. Arthur was startled out of his thoughts. The young boy looked out the window of his cottage to see a bolt of lightning rip through the sky; another powerful boom followed soon after. The boy frowned, turning back to his tea.
He sat in the dark save for a lone candle lit on the table in front of him. The light bobbed on the surface of his full cup of lukewarm tea. He had been lost in a vision again. The boy rarely dabbled in scrying, finding it too ambiguous and vague, but lately he had been falling into trances without meaning to. Now his tea was over-steeped and ruined.
Arthur huffed and went to his small tea caddy above the fireplace to fetch a new brew. Perhaps chamomile will calm him into sleeping.
For weeks a heavy feeling of significance weight on the young boy's heart. He felt like he was waiting for something, but he didn't know what. He would lapse into uncontrolled visions where a voice was calling his name. He never answered, afraid of who he was, but every time the voice was closer.
This time it was whispered in his ear.
"I should leave. Whoever wants me I don't owe them anything," Arthur muttered to himself as he dropped to the ground and kicked the footstool aside; he was naught but seven years old, living alone in his late mother's home.
But every time Arthur considered running /something/ demanded that he stay. What frightened him most was that a part of him, deep in his bones knew he had to wait.
For whoever...or whatever it was.
Arthur was pouring his fresh cup when a loud bang at his front door followed by thunder made him scream in fright. The kettle slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. The boy nimbly dodged away, but that was /another/ ruined tea.
"Wh-who's there?!" He yelped. Silence. Slowly, very slowly, Arthur tip-toed to the door, stopping to press an ear to the wood. He could only hear rain. He considered leaving well enough alone, perhaps it was just an animal, but then he heard the low groaning of a man.
"It sounds like he's in pain," Arthur muttered biting his lip. Strangers were dangerous. They couldn't be trusted. It was because of bad people that Arthur and his mother were isolated at all...
"/Arthur/..."
Arthur jumped, clutching his heart. It was the voice! The same voice that haunted his dreams was calling him from the other side of the door. Arthur wanted to bolt out the window and get as far away from that voice as he could, but another part of him, the part that always told him /no/, made him open that door.
An unconscious man tumbled inside. The boy's eyes widened in alarm. His arm was gone! The boy immediately grabbed him by his muddy cloak and dragged him inside, kicking the door shut. "Oh...oh my." Arthur brought the candle to get a better look at the man's injuries.
It looked like his lost arm wasn't recent. He wasn't bleeding from it. "Thank goodness," the boy breathed in relief as he searched his body for injuries.
Broken bones. He probably fainted from shock. He wouldn't be able to tell until the man woke up. "In any case, he's going to be all right," the boy said as he did the finishing touches of his bandaging. He wasn't a temple healer or priestess, but Arthur did an acceptable job for a seven year old. Of course, he used the stranger's clothes as dressings. He wasn't going to waste his precious bandages on this man. Unconscious or not, it was still very rude to track mud into a person's house, especially after Arthur swept the floor not a few hours ago.
Arthur made yet another pot of tea while he waited for the man to wake up. He watched from the table, his legs curled up on the seat.
Alfred remained in a dazed state of half sleep for what seemed like hours, when he finally awoke the violent rainstorm that he had traveled in had subsided to a light drizzle. His body was horribly sore, but nothing he couldn't live through. Sitting up was a struggle, but Alfred managed it just barely so he could get a better look at his surroundings.
The small cottage he found himself in was quaint and as unthreatening as homes come. What confused him was the small child slouched over the dining table sleeping. Where was the mage that he needed to remove the infernal collar from his neck? He was sure this was the right place.
Alfred glanced out the windows quiet as a mouse wondering if perhaps the mage was outside gathering supplies. When he saw nothing he glanced back at the child before him a sense of dread filling his spirit. It couldn't be.
Without a care for pleasantries and shook the child awake. Waiting till the boy was coherent enough to answer questions. "Who are you? Where is the mage? Where is Arthur of the Kirkland bloodline?"
Arthur gasped in surprise as he was jostled awake. "Stop that!" He backhanded the offending hand away. Hopping off the chair he used it as a shield to cower behind. He peeked above the chair back standing on his tip-toes. "What do you want with Arthur Kirkland?!" He wasn't about to reveal his identity away so freely. No one was supposed to know he was here.
"I need him to remove this damn collar so I can finally get back to my family!" Alfred snapped right back at the child. "Now tell me where he is so he can get this off me and I can be on my way."
"Why do you need Arthur? Can't you ask anyone with two hands?" Arthur eyed the collar around the man's neck. It looked like a typical necklace, made of precious medal with a blood red jewel the size of a walnut as its simple ornament.
Alfred groaned in exasperation covering his face with his hand as he tried to explain why he couldn't get just anyone to remove a magic collar. "Because it is enchanted and if anyone but he tries to remove this thing, it will lop off my head and I'd rather not die an idiotic death. Now where is he?"
"You sound idiotic to have put it on in the first place." Two strong brows pinch together in disapproval. Arthur didn't like the way he was talked down to and purposefully redirected the subject. After Arthur let him inside his own home and gave him medical treatment this stranger just wanted more out of him. "You know, it's polite to introduce yourself before asking favors." Maybe if the stranger said his name he would know if he was friend or foe.
Alfred's shoulders slumped as he realized what the child before him was implying. The mage he had been looking for to remove the collar that suppressed his magic was a mere child who likely hadn't the faintest clue how to cast spells. "You must be joking." Alfred's voice was strained as he spoke horror rushing over him as he began to understand that it may take perhaps twenty or more years before the child would be capable of removing the collar from him. To his kind such time was nothing, but humans are so frail if the boy were to fall ill and die Alfred would lose his only chance to remove the collar.
Alfred sighed heavily before kneeling down on one knee before the child having no choice other than to bite his tongue. "Alfred Jones was the common name my mother gave to protect me from humans, but to my kin I was known as Sorrilth of the Yun'lein."
"The Yun'lein? The royal dragons?" Saying the name out loud, feeling the word shape around his mouth made Arthur quiver. The boy swallowed. "They haven't been seen in centuries. They abandoned us when we needed them most. The cowards," he spat glaring poison at him. "So you're one of them who betrayed my ancestors and left us to be hunted down like dogs?!"
"What are you talking about? My family would never do such a thing." Alfred huffed indigently at the child offended that the human could even suggest such a thing. "As for me I haven't even seen my kin in 348 years because of this," Alfred gestured to the collar on his neck, "damn thing you humans placed on me to imprison me for your own wicked ways."
Arthur neither understood nor cared what Alfred was getting on about. This talk of enchanted collars and imprisonment had nothing to do with him. "Well, too bad for you, Arthur isn't here." He had it with this dragon. As far as he was concerned his family's oath to the Yun'lein line was over.
A growl slipped forth from Alfred, as he could easily see through the child's lie. "Like hell he isn't. Alfred's eyes smoldered, narrowing into slits displaying well hidden hints of his true nature.
He stood up using his height to his advantage as he glared down at the child whom standing at full height only just reached the middle of Alfred's chest. Alfred felt the collar around his neck burn slightly from his use of magic. He ignored it in favor of confronting the boy that stood in his way of being freed.
A chill shivered down Arthur's spine seeing the man's pupils narrow to reptilian slits. He did his best to stand up to the disguised creature but he unhappily found his shoulders hunching defensively. "How do I know I can trust you? A-and what makes you think I-/Arthur/ can help?" The boy didn't know the first thing about disenchanting charms. He knew only rudimentary magic such as fire starting and animal language. His mother never taught him such esoteric witchcraft.
"Because he is from a long line of magically gifted individuals, the Kirkland blood line is the only bloodline strong enough to remove this and keep my head intact." Alfred sighed wearily still half hoping the boy was not the mage he had been searching for. "I simply wish to know where the mage is and I shall leave. There is no need for this to become violent, child. To make good on his words Alfred backed away from the boy trying to appear less intimidating as he could with glowing blue eyes.
Arthur's face bloomed cherry red. He hated being talked down to because of his age. He couldn't even deny it. "You don't scare me," he groused under his breath. He was still huddled behind the chair. "And anyway, I can't help you. I don't know how to disenchant that spell." Eyeing it warily, Arthur could feel the power emanating from the stone.
All at once the slight magic air from around Alfred vanished the air seemed to disappear from his lungs as Alfred stared at Arthur as if he'd grown a second head. "You have got to be kidding me? My fate is in the hands of a five year old who probably doesn't know a damn thing about sophisticated spells."
Arthur's hackles rose. "That was uncalled for." He wanted to object that he was /seven/ years old, thank-you-very-much-sir, but it wouldn't make a bit of difference. His mother raised him better than that.
"So now you know I can't help you. Be off, then. Go stink up someone else's home you ungrateful twat." Well, maybe his mother didn't raise him so well after all.
Alfred scoffed before grabbing a chair and sitting down placing his elbow on the table and propping his head up on his fist. "And wait a good 50 years before you're finally good enough to take this thing off? No thanks I think I'd rather stick around and speed up the process. I'll be your new tutor until you finally are capable enough to help me. I'd estimate you'll be stuck with me for a good twenty years kid. Also I would be extremely inconvenienced if you were to get killed before this thing is gone."
"What?! Absolutely not!" Arthur was outraged if his puffed cheeks and pinched brows were any indication. He couldn't believe the nerve of this stranger. And he didn't appreciate the flippant way Alfred mentioned his death.
"And I suppose you're capable of removing me from this place?" Alfred questioned a smug grin appearing on his face knowing he had already won the argument before Arthur had even begun to actually fight back.
With a sharp thump Arthur side-stepped the chair, bright eyes blazing. He held out his open palms as a bright snap of fire flickered to life before igniting into a scorching fireball between his hands. Electricity crackled around the small inferno. "If that's how it's going to be, fine."
"Oh? So the child isn't completely incompetent when it comes to magic." Alfred got up to observe Arthur's small fireball for a few moments before he waved his hand over Arthur's small inferno absorbing the flames from the boy's hands. "But using fire against a dragon, come now you couldn't possibly think that would work." Alfred smiled at Arthur tousling the boy's hair before sitting down by the dying flames of the fireplace. He tossed an extra log on top of the embers lighting it with a small breath. Alfred sighed in comfort from the warmth the flames provided him. "You should go to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow little mage."
The boy gaped at the empty air between his hands. As the dragon breezed past he glared poison at his back. He was about to retort with something tart but the mention of sleep dragged his eyelids down-indeed, he needed his sleep. He spent most of the night dressing the dragon's wounds (who still didn't thank him, the ingrate.)
Arthur glowered for a few more moments before huffing and stalking to his bed. "I was going to bed anyway," he grumbled pulling the linen sheets over his head. His small frame could be seen curled into a small ball, as if protecting his vitals and keeping warm.
Alfred patiently waited until he heard soft snores coming from the boy to let his frustrations truly show. He gripped the stump of an arm that had barely healed in the past fifty years; his body was so heavily damaged and weak that not even the little remaining magic that he could muster could heal him. In the long run twenty more years was not a terribly long time to wait considering he was practically immortal by human standards, but after waiting 348 years finding himself having to wait even just a moment longer felt like torture. He sighed wearily before curling up on the floor by the fire praying Arthur proved to be a quick learner.
A/N: Hello readers new and old alike this is to be the next story and it's actually longer than Haven for those who have read that so there's plenty to enjoy here. So do tell what do you guys think? Sound interesting?