Arthur woke up with tears in his eyes. He had dreamed of her again. His mum. Arthur was bringing her a bouquet of daisies he picked from the field, and she was in their home sitting by the fire reading. Her back was to him, and he could see the firelight burnish her light hair to auburn. Arthur stood behind her and looped the necklace over his head. And she was just about to turn around when the boy woke up.
Arthur wiped his eyes, sniffling. He never saw her face in his dreams. He was beginning to forget what she looked like. It had been two years since they took her away from him. Two years since the bounty hunters came and killed her right before his eyes. They lopped her head off and left her body on the side of the road just feet from the brush where she told Arthur to hide. At least he didn't dream about that awful, terrible night anymore.
Slowly the boy popped his head up from under the covers. His hair was in a disarray and his eyes were red. He must have been crying in his sleep for a while. He hoped the dragon didn't hear. Speaking of which...where was he?
Alfred found he couldn't sleep at all; his nerves were still a bit high from being mugged, so instead he decided to hunt for some food having discovered Arthur's lack of supplies. He barrowed a simple dagger, as anything else required more than the one hand he possessed, and headed into the woods laying a couple simple rope traps.
As he came back with a couple of rabbits that he had caught he noticed the fireplace had been started up again indicating Arthur was awake. He didn't bother knocking as he walked into the cottage heading directly towards what would be considered the kitchen. He placed the rabbits on one counter before turning to Arthur. "I presume you know how to cook?"
Arthur turned from his steaming kettle, eyes widening in happy surprise seeing Alfred's catch. The sweetest smile brightened the boy's face as he made a beeline straight for the rabbits. "Yes, of course I can cook," he gushed not taking his eyes off for a second. "Why don't you skin and gut them while I gather herbs and vegetables for a stew?" As the boy dashed out with a basket he muttered excitedly about not having meat for tea in a long time.
Alfred stood there for a moment staring after the boy a he ran out wondering just how he expected Alfred to manage such a thing with one arm. He glanced between the rabbits and the door for a few more moments before deciding to sit at the table and wait for Arthur to return. He placed his cloak on the back of the chair before sitting down he rolled his shoulders trying to loosen his still stiff body. The stump of his arm ached as it always did in cooler weather he had barely more than two inches of arm off his shoulder and even growing that back took him little more than 50 years at the rate it was growing with the lack of Alfred's magic he would be a thousand before he had two arms again. 'Twenty years if I train him well,' He quietly thought to himself.
Hours later the light pad of bare feet was heard entering the threshold proceeded by a cheerful voice. "Back with-what the heck?!" Arthur was cut short by the unchanged scenery of Alfred lazing about and the unprepped rabbits /still/ on his counter. "I told you to prepare them!"
When Alfred wordlessly gestured to his missing arm Arthur threw his basket down with an outraged huff. "I will /not/ slave over you like a housewife! You useless, oversized lizard!" Contrary to his words the boy stomped to the brace of conies and snatched it off his small counter, stomping away with a hunting knife outside with just as much theatrics.
"Stupid lizard. Useless thing! I bet he tortured the poor things before he killed them. I bet he did it for fun! There's nothing good about dragons," Arthur muttered to himself as he prepared the rabbits for their meal.
Alfred smiled at the way Arthur threw a fit it was rather amusing watching the boy get upset over irrational things. He did pick up the vegetables that had fallen out of the basket with a quick glance Alfred could tell Arthur had already clean the dirt off them likely in a nearby stream. In a spur of the moment decision Alfred decided he would try cutting up the vegetables, but by the time Arthur came back in all Alfred had to show for his work were some badly butchered vegetables and a few new cuts on his fingers.
The first thing Arthur did when he saw the mess was plant his fist akimbo and shake his head. The boy tut-tutted with his tongue as he surveyed the sad job. "It can't be helped," he reasoned and turned to the dragon. "Why don't you fill the pot with water from the stream?" He pointed to the stew pot nestled in the corner of the fireplace.
Arthur set the cleaned brace of conies on the cutting board on top of the counter and began sectioning off bite-sized pieces the size of the vegetables.
Figuring it was the least he could do Alfred followed Arthur's instruction headed toward the stream he saw earlier while he had placed the traps. Arthur's home was in the middle of a dense forest which provided ample protection for the young boy despite the risks of animal and magical creatures alike. It was comforting to Alfred as well knowing he could relax in such a secluded habitat, it had been a long time since he had last been able to let his guard down. Alfred quickly finished his chore lightly knocking on the door with his foot not wanting to have to set the pot down and pick it up again.
The door cracked open revealing half of the boy's annoyed face. "You can't be serious," the boy deadpanned, a moment later opening it all the way for the dragon. He turned tail back to the fireplace where Alfred set the pot on the hook over the fireplace. Arthur poured in the roux he was cooking in the meantime.
Arthur stood on his tip toes and sniffed. A smile spread across his face as he dumped in the meat first.
Alfred enjoyed the heat of the flames they were cool compared to what a dragon was capable of producing, but comforting nonetheless. He sat as near the fireplace as he could without getting in Arthur's way. It was soothing watching Arthur work it felt like the home he never truly had a chance to experience. He somewhat wished he could help, but he had never learned how, not that he'd admit that to the child. His captors never let him do anything unless commanded and most commands involved scaring or killing people, Alfred hated it. Between the fire and watching Arthur busy himself with cooking Alfred nodded off resting his weary body.
A soft, serene humming accompanied the cozy crackle of the fireplace. It was a gentle tune his mother sang to him before she passed, and he hummed it now as he padded around barefoot, adding dashes of spices into the roux and stirring the pot.
They had barely met but it felt as if they had lived the moment a thousand times before, such was the bond between Alfred's people and Arthur's family. Alfred instinctively knew he was safe in Arthur's presence even though a human child posed little threat to him to begin with it was knowing that Arthur would alert and help him if only on instinct alone that brought such great comfort to Alfred.
Arthur fixed up around the room unaware of Alfred's musings. Earlier when the boy picked herbs from the garden Arthur used the quiet space to think about Alfred's arrival. For the first time in months Arthur woke up without feeling nauseous from a vague, impending dread and anticipation. Alfred surely was responsible for it.
Well, Arthur didn't like it. Not one bit. The boy didn't feel obligated to clean up after Alfred's mess, blood contract or no. /Arthur/ didn't pledge unwavering loyalty to the royal dragon clan hundreds of years ago.
Most of all, Alfred's family betrayed the Kirkland line. They abandoned them during the Great War, killing his ancestors and forcing the rest into hiding. Still to this day they were chased like dogs. If Alfred's ancestors didn't abandon their humans he had a lot of nerve to expect a revival.
Alfred had begun to snore lightly as his body precariously moved from a sitting position to laying down startling Alfred who found himself unable to break his fall without his left arm to stop him. After a few dazed moments Alfred sat up sniffing the air noting that the stew had begun to simmer but it would still be quite some time before the food was ready. He glanced around the room acting as if he hadn't fallen over like some sleepy kitten. "What time is it?" Alfred asked groggily.
Arthur too was startled, almost spilling his tea from fright. "It's nearly seven," the boy groused in a time far older than he was. Seeing Alfred's attention on the pot he answered without needing to be asked. "It will be ready in less than an hour." Tongue clicking in displeasure the boy went back to his tea, waiting for the ripples to smooth. "I almost had my answer until you interrupted," he quipped.
Alfred blinked at Arthur confused as to what the boy was talking about for a moment. "Answer?" He cocked his head to the side face contorting into confusion. "What answ- Oh, that answer." Alfred yawned as he stretched his body, groaning as he felt the pleasant pull of his muscles. "If you need me to I can go back to sleep. It's no trouble really."
"No, by all means, sleep by the fireplace like a dog," the boy chirped with mock cheer. "You used to be our pets, after all." Arthur sheltered a devious smirk behind the rim of his cup, sipping with dainty mannerisms. Below the table his feet swung happily. He couldn't yet reach the floor.
Hopping down Arthur made his way to the pouting dragon. "Don't be so sore," he admonished flippantly as he kneeled besides him. "Anyway...I need to see how you are healing."
The boy was blushing as he unwrapped the dressings. What were once ugly lacerations and bruises were now scabbed and lightened to brown and yellow. "Not good." Arthur gingerly touched the smooth, tan skin around it. "You should be entirely healed. Dragons have incredibly fast regenerative skills." He looked at Alfred's arm. "It seems the charm is doing more than dampening your magick."
"And here I thought my missing limb would give that away the moment you saw me." Alfred groused wincing as Arthur's fingers grazed over a particularly sore spot. "There's a reason I desperately want to get this collar off and a lot of it has to do with how hard living with one arm is. In the fifty years since this happened, it's barely grown back two inches. At this pace I'll be 700 something before I'll have two working arms again."
"Humans lose arms too, you know!" Arthur immediately snapped on the defense, "It's dragons you don't see with limbs lopped off." He pinched Alfred's bruise for effect. "You're exceptionally pathetic for getting caught by humans." His hands tightened to fists. "So don't take it out on /me/ that you can't free yourself. The burden is yours and yours alone."
"I was a /child/ when I was taken from my family. I was barely 20 my human form compared to what humans would consider a toddler. There was no way I could have fought back in either of my forms. Don't you dare try to place blame on me for something I could not prevent." Alfred growled back at Arthur his eyes narrow slits as his anger brought forth one of his more reptilian features.
Arthur would not let this...this /lizard/ get the best of him. So he put up a strong front by tilting his chin up defiantly, his knobby knees were shaking.
They stared into each other's eyes; a direct challenge that neither would back down from. It was when the bubbles in the stew suddenly erupted and boiled over the pot that Arthur jumped in alarm and hurried to salvage their supper.
Alfred scoffed at Arthur's behavior; he forced himself to stand before walking out the door without so much as a word to Arthur. The dragon tried to rationalize Arthur's behavior, he was young, he was an orphan, but it didn't stop Alfred from wanting to burn him to a crisp for his insensitivity towards Alfred's captivity. A walk was the best way of preventing his only chance of freedom from becoming charcoal. Figuring he would collect some firewood Alfred set off not planning until both his temper had cooled off and his arm was as full of twigs as he could hold.
When Alfred returned Arthur was sitting with his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand. He was slowly stirring a wooden spoon around and around, nudging the vegetables and meat. Upon seeing Arthur the boy looked away stubbornly. Yet, placed in front of the chair across from him was another bowl.
Alfred took the bowl of food for what it was, a peace offering. He placed the twigs near the fireplace before joining Arthur. The stew was burnt and tasted strange but it wasn't the worst he had been forced to eat. Alfred scarfed down the food quickly to avoid having to taste it too much leaving little room for conversation.
Once Alfred finished his food he placed the bowl on the counter and began glancing at the collection of spell books the cottage contained. "What's your current capability magic wise?" Alfred questioned as he brushed the dust off of one of the older volumes.
Arthur took the tome from Alfred's hands. "I cannot read half of the inscription. It's mostly in dragonspeak or illustrations." Arthur opened and looked at the opened page. Harsh, angular lines were scrawled over the parchment. It was the language of the dragons that took after the old way they inscribed on stone.
Alfred sighed tiredly, "I suppose that's where we need to start then. You're lucky that's one of the things I learned before I was taken from my family otherwise we would both be doomed at this point." Alfred sat himself back down at the table and gestured to the chair in front of him. "Shall we begin?"
The boy shook his head wearily before plopping down in the seat with a sour frown. He peeked at the dragon under the fringe of his messy hair. "What do I get in return for helping you, dragon? If I were to unbind the charm I demand reciprocity."
"Prove your skill to me first, and then we can talk about your reward." Alfred answered vaguely taking the book back from Arthur. He flipped through the pages finding the easiest spell available before placing the open book in front of Arthur. "Do you understand anything written here?"
Furrowing his brows in concentration he leaned closer into the text, as if his proximity affected his understanding. The boy nibbled on his lip as his eyes slipped across the characters.
"Dro...ga...ha..dwen...sto..." After finishing a line Arthur sighed and fell back against the chair. "I don't know what it means," he admitted, "mum never taught me."
"Droga ha dwen sto." Alfred repeated fluidly, "This is the formal name of the fire spell you preformed earlier. This book is filled with spells for the beginning mage. If you want to be as strong as the mages of old you need to start here."
Arthur held out his upturned hand and splayed his hand over the tome. "/Droga ha dwen sto/" he repeated the incantation using his connection to the scrawl to channel greater power. In his palm a spark of light popped before combusting into an enormous inferno that surprised both of them.
Alfred pulled the book away from Arthur greatly reducing the strength of the fire ball. The ceiling had black soot on it and the fringe of Arthur's hair was fried as was half of his already large eyebrows. Alfred glanced at Arthur pleased that the boy showed strength in simple spells, but decided fire might not be the best place to start. "Perhaps we should start with water based spells until you have better control." He announced as he started to flip through the pages to find such a spell.
The fireball disappeared in a dirty plume of smoke as the boy immediately felt his eyebrows. Or what was left of them. The fire had singed off most of his eyebrows, leaving hilarious patches of baldness. The remaining bits of hairs were crisped at the ends. Arthur was horrified. He didn't have a mirror but he could feel the damage.
He looked at Alfred anxious for his reaction.
Alfred placed the book in front of Arthur again before catching the boy's panicked expression. "Oh calm down it will grow back in a few weeks. It's not like you get many visitors out here in the woods anyways. Anyways try this one." Alfred pointed to one of the pages waiting for Arthur to try and sound the words out.
Arthur nodded mutely. As he sat back down he patted his eyebrows gingerly. It was good of Alfred to ignore the humiliating gaff, but he suspected that the dragon simply didn't care.
Arthur shook his head. He it's not like he was disappointed, it was just /polite/ to ask if he was okay, that's all. Unlike Alfred, his mum would have given him a hug and told him he looked as handsome as ever.
As Alfred resumed the lesson Arthur snuck a peeked at the dragon. Alfred's attention was fixed on the dragonspeak his finger slid underneath. Rather than pay attention he mused on his predicament.
The dragon declared that Arthur free him, and Alfred was under the impression that his word was final. Arthur had no choice in the matter, did he? All of a sudden Arthur felt very helpless and sad. He refused to show it, squaring his shoulders as he parroted back Alfred's words and asked questions that Alfred clarified.
As the light left with the sunset Alfred wanted to continue in candlelight, but Arthur lied and said he was out.
Alfred threw a small pile of twigs he picked up on his walk earlier into the fireplace lighting them as he curled up by the fire. He watched silently as Arthur climbed into bed curling up into a small ball. The boy had potential he would give him that much, but he still had a long way to go before he would be able to help Alfred. A tired sigh slipped from his lips before Alfred allowed himself to doze off.
They didn't wish each other goodnight. Arthur quietly undressed into his nightgown, careful not to be caught in the dragon's peripheral. As he crawled into bed Arthur folded the sheets over his head like he always did and huddled into a ball. He looked no more than a small lump in the middle of the bed.
The fire died down to embers and carried no light across the room. It was deathly quiet in the cottage. Arthur couldn't even hear the dragon sleeping.
The silence was nothing unusual to Arthur; it had been two years since he broke bread with another soul or sheltered them for sleep. Of all strangers, Arthur never imagined a dragon as his guest.
Now that he was sure Alfred was asleep Arthur let the tears fall. He bit the sheets to muffle his hiccups and uneven breaths. He hated crying. Crying was weakness. It was Alfred's company that disrupted his routine and threw him out and made him reflect on how empty he felt. No matter who he shared his space with nothing filled his life with meaning like his mother.
The quiet hiccups in the dark roused Alfred from his light slumber. He stared at the quivering form for a few moments before standing and as quietly as a church mouse made his way over to the bed. He sighed as he pulled the covers off Arthur and quickly slid into the bed with him not giving the boy a chance to protest. "It's ok to cry." Was all Alfred said as he pulled Arthur flush against his body gently rubbing the boy's back.
Arthur was scared out of his wits suddenly seeing Alfred's hulking shadow looming over him. The boy was too stunned to move as the dragon collected him with his arm. "I..." Arthur whimpered, choking on a sob. When the broad hand began stroking his back his face twisted in anguish, and he sobbed when Alfred assured him. Even more tears escaped as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm s-so lonely," he cried against Alfred's chest. "Mother is gone. My family is gone. I have no one." The boy buried his face in the crook of Alfred's neck. His tears fell over the enchanted alloy.
The dragon quietly nuzzled his face in Arthur's hair understanding the boy's loneliness. "You have me now. I will teach and guide you until you are strong enough to face the world yourself. You needn't feel such loneliness anymore."
A small noise of acknowledgement was heard, muffled against the dragon's cooler skin. The boy was nearly on top of Alfred, he was so dearly starved of another's touch.
Arthur's heartfelt sobs eased into softer whimpers as the dragon calmed him with words and touch. "Thank you," he whispered, climbing on an elbow for a better look at the dragon. He pecked him on the lips.
Alfred looked bewildered at the boy's display of affection as a pink dusted his cheeks thankfully hidden by the darkness of the night. He coughed awkwardly turning his face away from Arthur. "You're welcome," He mumbled awkwardly, "Now go to sleep you still have a lot to learn come morning."
"Yes," Arthur sighed sleepily. "You'll be here in the morning?" He didn't want to wake up alone and realize it was a dream.
"Of course. You couldn't even hope to understand half the text without my help." Alfred ran his fingers through Arthur's hair before gently placing a kiss on the boy's forehead. Even though the affection made him feel awkward he could tell Arthur needed it and if it helped Arthur it helped him. "Good night."
A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to update my life has been so crazy busy. I don't even have a moment to spare for tumblr. Such is the woes of being an adult with a full time job. Anyways here's the next chapter let us know what you think. Thanks!