Things had been going fine... for the first day. But the second sunrise brought heavy gray clouds, and soon after thunderous, pouring rain. The wind completely died down, leaving Keith huddled miserably in the hull of his ship with his hair stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He had never felt more like a soaked, grumpy cat.

The day was a haze of mist, the setting of the sun so gradual he didn't notice until it was almost pitch black. And of course, at that moment, the wind began to pick up again. Though now it was so strong it tossed his boat to and fro as though it was made of paper.

By the time night fell completely the wind was howling like an unsettled spirit, and the rain felt like needles pounding into his flesh. At first he tried to keep his small boat on course, but after several rope burns and the realization that he didn't even know where he was going in the first damn place, he gave up.

As the night marched on, the storm grew ever angrier, as though the gods were trying to punish him for his rash decision. Waves the size of his vessel carried water into his boat faster than he could dump it out.

This is bad, this is really really really bad.

The next time a wave slammed against his boat, one side tipped perilously, forcing Keith to scramble for a hold on the rain slick mast. His cold, stiff fingers almost weren't strong enough, and only the burst of adrenaline from seeing the froth beneath saved him from toppling overboard.

"Odin's dick!" he swore vehemently, reaching back to make sure his sword was still in place. Thankfully it was, but a sword wasn't going to help him if he drowned.

Gods, he was such an idiot, going out here with no destination or plan or backup. He couldn't even sail that well, what in Hel's frozen wasteland was he thinking?!

Another wave washed into the boat, and Keith barely kept himself upright. When it had receded, he shook out his hair and stared despairingly into the cloudy sky.

Is running off on a daring quest and then drowning the second night good enough to get into Valhalla?

The thought was idle, but he still felt the kick in his gut at idea of death. Shiro was still out there somewhere, he couldn't just leave him. What if he came home and Keith wasn't there? He couldn't die, not now, and certainly not by drowning.

He was utterly soaked once more as another wave swept in, prying a startled screech from his throat. He absolutely hated the ocean.

The waves were coming faster now, and bigger, and his boat was steadily filling with more and more seawater. He was barely managing to keep himself inside, though with the amount of water within there was hardly a difference. His vessel listed dangerously to the side, and he clenched his jaw so tightly he nearly expected it to shatter. He couldn't stay here. If he stayed in his floating coffin, he was going to drown. Of course, if he took the risk of abandoning ship, he could also drown. Pretty much all of his options included drowning.

One more freezing slosh of water was enough to convince him. At least if he was in the water the wind wouldn't be chilling him.

The sword is too heavy, I need something to float on.

Leaving the sword behind was absolutely not an option. He frantically looked through the water standing in the hull, looking for anything that would float, but once again he was out of luck, because he hadn't thought to bring anything.

"Faen." he muttered, wrapping a fist around one of the small braids in his hair and pulling slightly in irritation. "Faen, faen, faen ta deg, Keith. You dumbass!" With nowhere else to look, his eyes settled on the horizon. He blinked once, twice, and wiped the water out of his eyes. But it was still there when he looked again.

The large black shape on the horizon, just a shade darker than the surrounding ocean. Land? Possibly. Or he could be going mad and hallucinating in his desperation. Still, better than nothing.

Frantically, bracing himself against the mast, he began to pull off his boots. If he was going to make it to the island with his sword, he had to get rid of as much excess weight as possible.

He removed the sword, just for a moment as he shed his leather chestplate. He felt a little bad leaving it, it wouldn't be easy or cheap to get another one, but that was a problem for a different day. When he wasn't in danger of being devoured by the Kraken.

Fastening his sword firmly on his back, Keith stepped up to the edge of the boat and squared his shoulders. It was now or never. So with one deep breath, he threw himself into the waves.


He woke with a terrible burning in his lungs, coughing up seawater into the sand.

Huh, so it was land. Lucky me.

Sand was sticking to him everywhere, clinging to his red tunic, itching in his hair, grinding between his teeth. The light pressing against his eyelids and the warmth drying his clothes uncomfortably to his skin told him it was daytime. Vaguely, he remembered finding his way to shore; and promptly collapsing in exhaustion. His muscles still burned with the effort of fighting through the waves to the beach, and despite the irritation of the sand, he pressed his cheek against the ground.

I'm never going on a ship again.

Barely, over the crashing of the waves, he heard the crunching of sand beneath boots. But before his tired brain could comprehend what that sound meant, the footsteps had stopped; right next to him.

He lay perfectly still, hoping to maintain the element of surprise over his opponent. His face cooled slightly as the person's shadow passed over him, and he held his breath, waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

There was a slight tugging on his back, and his eyes flew open in panic. The sword! He reacted on instinct, shooting out a hand and grabbing a fistful of tunic from whoever had knelt down next to him. The person gave a cry of alarm, and he pulled, yanking the person right off of their feet and over the top of him. Using his other arm to push against the sand, he flipped the two of them over again, ending up straddling their middle with his hands inches from their throat.

For a moment, the reflection of the sun off of the sand was too bright, and he couldn't see who he had pinned. But the adrenaline was still pumping, the threat of danger still singing in his veins, and he reached up and back for his sword.

"Keith?!" the person underneath him yelped, and his hand paused, barely brushing the hilt of the blade. This person knew his name. How…?

"Keith, is that you?" Keith blinked dumbly a few times, and a face finally began piecing itself together as the haze of adrenaline lifted. Amber eyes, auburn hair, soft cheeks. But the voice didn't fit, it was too deep.

"M-Mathias?" he stammered, arm trembling but not lowering. "What?"

Despite Keith's intimidating position, Katya's brother gave him a toothy grin. He looked a little scrawnier than the last time Keith had seen him, but strangely wasn't much the worse for wear, despite being missing for almost a month.

"Matt." The realization finally sunk in, and something was expanding in his chest, but he couldn't tell if it was hope or fear. His hand finally dropped, away from the sword, only to drag him up by his tunic. "Matt, where's Shiro? What happened to Shiro? Is he here with you? Wh-"

"Woah there buddy, calm down." Matt brought his hands up between them in a placating gesture, and Keith released him, moving back and off of the older man. His head felt a little fuzzy, probably from the sudden rise and fall of adrenaline, and he couldn't think. If Matt was here, where was Shiro?

"Why don't we start with you. How did you get here?"

Keith shook his head, little grains of sand raining down over his shoulders. "No, Matt, tell me where Shiro is, I need to-"

"Mathias!" Both of their heads turned towards the new voice, coming from somewhere behind the hill that descended to the beach. "Mathias, where have you gone?"

"Coming, Allura!" he yelled back, then turned to Keith, who was staring at him in utter confusion. "Look, Keith, you're not looking so good. You should come back with us, and we can-"

"Us?" Keith interrupted, dull panic twisting in his stomach. "Who is 'us'? Who's Allura?"

"Keith, just-"

"Faen ta deg, Matt, tell me where Shiro is!"

"Mathias, what on Earth is going on here?" The voice was much louder now, and Keith's gaze shot up over Matt's shoulder. Coming down the hill towards them was a tall, dark skinned woman, silver hair billowing out behind her. Her face darkened when she saw Keith, and her skirts whipped furiously about her ankles as she hastened towards them.

Keith stumbled and tripped his way to his feet, grasping blindly for his sword. The whole thing looked disappointingly clumsy, but he was far too worked up to care. However, the graceless movement did nothing to reduce the wicked shine that reflected off the edge of his blade as he drew it.

"Keith, no, it's ok-"

He tried to find his proper stance, but with the sand squishing in between his toes and the surf lapping at his heels, he couldn't quite manage it. Still, he kept his eyes focused on the woman, who had finally paused on the edge of the hill.

"Mathias…" her voice was dark and warning, and Matt snapped his head around to look at her.

"It's fine, Allura, I know him, he's just a little freaked out." The woman, Allura, narrowed her eyes at their unexpected visitor, but didn't advance any further.

Matt turned back to Keith, amber eyes softening as he held out a hand once more in an attempt to calm him, like he was a wild animal. He began to speak, but Keith cut him off.

"Matt, please, just tell me where Shiro is." His voice cracked on the word 'please', and Matt's expression fell.

"He's not here, ok?" he said gently. "He's not here. I can explain, if you just-"

For the second time in about ten minutes, adrenaline crashed out of his system, and his arms sagged, the tip of his sword digging into the ground. This was all too much, too quickly, and the next thing he knew he was throwing himself to his knees, vomiting sea water into the sand.

"Oh, my." he heard Allura cry, and two sets of footsteps crunched across the beach towards where he knelt, the waves soaking his clothes all over again. He was shaking, and his legs refused to support him, but he still kept a firm grip on his weapon.

"Keith." Matt's voice was soft as he lay a hand on Keith's shoulder. "Why don't you come with us, ok? We can get you some food, and you can tell us how you got here."

Bitter disappointment coated his tongue. Shiro wasn't here, so it really didn't matter what he did next, did it? But despite the tiredness in his limbs and the urge to just give up, he still couldn't quite let his guard down.

"Who are you?" he said, the question directed at the woman standing behind Matt, his voice gravelly and rough.

The woman smiled, her face much friendlier now. Her skin was a shade or two lighter than Hunk's, and there were a couple of weird blue triangles on her cheekbones, like tattoos. The blue there matched the edging on her white dress, which draped gracefully over her strong frame, billowing around her wrists and ankles. She looked so young, especially when she smiled, but her hair was completely silver.

"I am Allura of Altea." she said in a practiced voice, as though she had answered the question many times before. This told him absolutely nothing; he had never heard of a place called Altea. Still, she had answered his question without pause, and she didn't look all that dangerous in that dress.

Matt felt the tension leave his shoulders, and cautiously slid an arm around his middle, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn't.

Once Matt had pulled him to his feet, he took a moment to sheathe his sword before the two of them were following Allura back up the hill. Beyond was a green valley, backed by tall grey mountains and embraced by pine forest. A winding dirt path led through the grass towards a small group of white washed stone buildings about a half mile from the beach. With the startlingly blue sky and puffy white clouds, the place looked like paradise. Or it would have, if the valley hadn't been absolutely crawling with dragons.

Keith's breath caught in his throat upon seeing the giant reptiles, and stopped in his tracks, nearly topping him and Matt over. There were dozens of dragons, in dozens of different sizes and species and colors. Some he could recognize from stories and records, but others were completely new. Well, all of them were new, because he had never seen a dragon in real life.

Alright, that's it, I'm either dead and in Valhalla or I've gone completely mad.

"I know, it's a lot to take in." Matt said, tugging on him slightly to lead him onto the path. Keith, stumbling in his daze, let him.

"Uh, Matt? I thought the dragons were gone."

"It's a long story." he murmured in reply. "We'll explain everything once we get you settled, ok? I promise."

Keith didn't answer, electing instead to keep an eye on the dragons. None of them came too close to the path, eyeing the three humans from a few dozen feet away with cautious, slitted eyes. As they continued their trek, Keith began to notice something about the dragons. Most of them had white bandages wrapped around them somewhere, or they were limping, or had torn wings. In some way, shape, or form, they were all injured.

Before he could ask, they had arrived in the little bunch of houses. There were 5 of the small white washed huts, roofed with golden straw. All of them stood with their doors swung wide to let in the sunshine. All in all, it looked perfectly idyllic.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught Keith's attention, and he turned his head quickly enough to see a mass of white detaching itself from one of the walls. Then there were cold sapphire eyes staring at him, and a jolt went down his spine when he realized there had been a dragon hiding against the wall the whole time.

He automatically tried to pull back, but Matt tightened his grip and kept him in place as the dragon took a few tentative steps forward. Unlike most of the other dragons he had seen so far, it walked on two thick limbs, the other two tiny and useless in comparison. It stood about a foot and a half taller than the three of them, height counterbalanced by a strong looking tail.

"It's ok, she won't hurt you."

The dragon opened her stout snout, and Keith felt decidedly less secure when he saw undoubtedly sharp teeth. The dragon took another step, and then to Keith's surprise, Allura was holding out a thin hand and patting it on the nose.

She's gonna lose that hand.

But the dragon didn't bite her. Instead, she wiggled the frill behind her head happily, closed her eyes, and leaned down to nuzzle against Allura's side. Now that the initial fear was fading away, he was starting to notice how the dragon's white scales shimmered blue in the sunlight. She had seemed fearsome at first, but now with her wings flapping with joy as Allura lavished her with attention, she almost looked cuddly.

"Keith," said Allura, smiling as she scratched under the dragon's chin, "This is Soothesong."

"Soothesong." Keith repeated numbly, more than little overwhelmed. "Ok."

"She helps me keep the other dragons calm while we treat them." She continued, probably trying to explain things, but that just made Keith even more confused. She must have noticed, because with a slight cringe, she gave Soothesong one last pat on the nose and led him and Matt into a hut to their left.

The inside of the building was just as quaint as the outside, furnished with a fireplace and wooden furniture the color of warmth. Keith sank down into a chair next to a small end table, and Matt immediately bustled off to a cupboard where several loaves of bread were stacked. Allura sat at the other side of the table. She looked expectant, as though Keith was about to burst out in a flood of questions, but he didn't. At this point he just wanted to put his head down on the table and pass out.

He quickly changed his mind when Matt placed down a small loaf of bread, a chunk of golden cheese, and an apple in front of him. He immediately snatched up the bread and tore into it, probably looking like a rabid dog, but really not caring that much. Matt drew up another chair and watched with amusement.

"Slow down." he advised with a smirk. "You'll make yourself sick again."

Keith scowled, but slowed down anyway, taking a tentative bite of the cheese. It was good, sharp, probably some of the best he'd ever had.

"So, Keith." Allura said, trying to goad him into conversation. "How did you find your way here?"

Keith answered, but it was directed towards Matt, not Allura. He still wasn't sure what to make of her, and Matt was much safer.

"You and Shiro were late coming home." he said, pausing to crunch a chunk out of the apple. "Everyone else said you had probably just ran into some bad weather or something, but I couldn't accept that. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it, so I stole a boat. But I got caught in a storm and…" he finished the sentence with a shrug.

"Well, you were right." Matt responded quietly, expression much more serious than it had been a moment ago. "Something was wrong. What happened to your boat?"

Keith froze. "Odin's dick," he muttered. "Hunk is going to kill me."

Allura looked a little affronted by his foul mouth, but Matt just quirked his lip a little. Keith shoved the last chunk of his bread into his mouth and knocked the crumbs from his fingers.

"So?" he questioned, still talking to Matt. "What happened to Shiro?"

Matt sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the small table. There was a scary look in his eyes, almost haunted, and it set Keith's nerves on edge.

"You were right, Keith, it wasn't bad weather." he murmured. "We were only a couple of days into the trip when we ran across another ship. It was way bigger than ours, and it had some kind of weird insignia on the sails. Dad tried to talk to them, but they didn't want to talk."

Keith pushed the rest of his food to the side, expecting that he wouldn't be hungry by the end of the tale. Matt continued, keeping his eyes fixed on the table and not on Keith.

"Shiro tried to defend us, but there were way more of them, there wasn't much he could do. They took us back to their main island, and Keith, there were so many dragons there." He saw Keith's confused look and took a shuddering breath. "Apparently this tribe has been capturing dragons for… decades now, I think. But their leader just now realized that the dragons weren't worth much if they couldn't be controlled. So he's been capturing merchants and traders and trying to force them to fight for him as dragon riders."

"That's why the seas were getting so dangerous." Keith murmured as the pieces clicked together in his head. "That's why you guys had to hire Shiro in the first place."

Matt nodded miserably. "They tried to make us train some of the dragons. But it wasn't working, we didn't know how and the dragons hated everyone who came near them. The guards tried to force us, tried to give us more… incentive, but it just wouldn't work."

"What do you mean by more incentive?" Keith asked, dreading the answer but knowing he couldn't resist.

"They said they'd kill my dad." Matt's voice was muffled in his arms, and at that moment he looked so young. "And eventually they got so mad they… they cut Shiro's arm off."

How is he going to help his dad with the woodchopping? Was Keith's first stunned thought, and then he felt cold spreading through his limbs. The food he had just consumed pushed up against the back of his throat, but he stubbornly swallowed it back down.

"Is he still alive?" he forced himself to ask.

"As far as I know." Matt answered, giving him a sad look. "He lived through what they did to him. Then they decided we weren't worth keeping around anymore if we weren't going to be able to help them, so they put us on a ship. I think they were going to send us to some sort of coliseum, but before we got there Shiro pushed me overboard. And I washed up here."

"Why would he do that?" Keith asked with a frown. That didn't sound like Shiro at all.

"To give me a chance to escape." Matt said without hesitation. "He did it to save me."

Keith slumped back in his chair, casting an idle look at the remainder of his apple. He was right, he wasn't hungry. He was starting to feel a little light headed and dazed again, trying to comprehend all of this new information. Shiro was being held prisoner somewhere, already missing a limb, and who knows what else they would do to him, or even if he was still alive. His heart sunk down to his still bare toes, and for a moment despair overwhelmed him. But then someone else was speaking, and it pulled him back to reality.

"I know this is a lot to take in." It was Allura talking, her voice serene and soothing. "You must have a lot of questions."

"Not really." Keith said dully, and Allura's eyebrows jumped to her hairline. "I just want to get to Shiro."

"We will." Matt cut in, his eyes burning with a sudden ferocity. "I'm not giving up on him, or my dad, I promise Keith." Keith just nodded, still feeling a little numb. "Allura, why don't you explain more."

Keith reluctantly turned his attention to Allura, who had her hands folded in front of her. He wasn't really in the mood for a history lesson, but judging from the look on her face, he wouldn't be able to escape. He wanted to just slump back and let her talk, but she seemed intent on making sure he was paying attention.

"What do you know about the Dragon Riders, Keith?" she questioned.

"Not much." Keith answered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I know there were five really famous ones, but something happened and they turned on each other. They all ended up dead, and the dragons disappeared." He gave a limp shrug.

Allura's mouth quirked, not quite satisfied. "That's not bad, I suppose. But that's not the whole story." She sat back and began her tale, reciting with perfect clarity.

"My father was one of those five dragon riders, Alfor the Adventurous. Their leader was a man called Zarkon the Conqueror, who was also chief of a powerful tribe. My father and the other riders worked to protect dragons and people alike." Here her face darkened. "Or at least, that's what my father thought they were doing.

"At some point, my father discovered that Zarkon had been going behind his back, capturing dragons, hoarding them for their power. At first, he wanted to give Zarkon the benefit of the doubt, so he established this sanctuary for dragons and a double agent within their ranks began smuggling them out while my father tried to talk some sense into him."

"Let me guess," Keith said quietly. "It didn't work."

Allura, scowling, shook her head. "Zarkon wouldn't give up his dragons. Eventually, things escalated, and the other riders tried to stop him by force. But Zarkon and his troops killed all of them. A few years later, he attacked and destroyed my home island; Altea. My mother sent me here for safety, so I and the keeper of the sanctuary survived, but no other Alteans made it."

"I'm sorry."

Allura's eyes glistened, but she waved the comment away. "Coran and I have been here for years, treating as many dragons as we could and trying to come up with a way to take down Zarkon. Clearly we haven't been too successful."

"I've been trying to train a Terrible Terror." Matt said, chiming in for the first time. "I'm hoping if I can get a message back to Chief Iverson, he'll send some troops and help us get Shiro and my dad back."

Keith's immediate reaction was a scoff, but he bit it back for the sake of politeness.

"Iverson hates conflict." he said instead. "He'll never go for it."

"It's the only chance we've got." Matt's face was grim, and Allura's matched.

"Maybe not." At their confused glances, Keith rolled his eyes. "You guys live on an island full of dragons. Why haven't you just mounted up and gone in blazing by now?"

"Zarkons control has spread over dozens of islands." Allura said tightly. "And three riders does not an army make."

"Four, if you count me."

"I did count you. Soothesong is not for riding." A slight grimace slid onto her face. "Zarkon usually keeps a young Hobblegrunt to keep the other dragons calm, keeping their wings bound so they can't escape. She was one of them, and her wings never developed properly."

"Well what are we supposed to do then?" Keith snapped. "Just sit here while Zarkon tortures Shiro?"

"We are doing something." Allura's voice was cold. "Mathias is training the Terrible Terror, and until your chief sends assistance, we will continue to nurse dragons back to health."

Keith wanted to argue with them. He wanted to scream and shout and cry, ask Matt how he could stand to let Shiro rot somewhere while a madman builds an army of dragons. But he didn't have the chance, because just then another person strode confidently into the hut.

He was tall, tall enough that his hair brushed the bottom edge of the sloped roof when he stepped inside. The wrinkles on his face spoke of age, but his hair and large mustache were still a bright, almost blinding orange.

The tension had been steadily leaking out of Keith's muscles throughout the conversation, but now it all returned at once, and his fingers itched at his sides. It took great effort on his part not to draw his sword in a panic. And it didn't help at all when the man froze just inside the door and stared at him with huge blue eyes.

"Culmar?" he whispered in a disbelieving tone. "Culmar, is that you?" Before a baffled Keith could answer, the man had leapt forward and lifted him in a bone crushing hug. "Culmar, my old friend! It's been so long! You look so young, as well, you really must share your secret, old boy!"

Keith looked frantically over the man's shoulder at Matt, who was barely containing his snickers. Allura was chuckling politely behind her hand, eyes sparkling.

"Matt…" Keith said, barely keeping his rising panic out of his voice as the ginger man continued to babble, still not releasing him. "Matt, you have about two seconds to get this guy off of me before I start breaking bones."

"Ok, ok." Matt answered, swallowing back his mirth. "Coran, put him down, that's not Culmar. It's my friend from my island, Keith."

Coran immediately set Keith back down on his feet, his eyes still wide but now with embarrassment rather than joy.

"Oh, I do apologize!" he exclaimed, awkwardly folding his hands behind his back while Keith scuttled away to stand behind Matt. "You just remind me of someone I used to know, is all."

Keith had been startled into silence, but not just because of Coran's sudden hug attack. Noticing Keith's discomfort, Matt gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

"Come on, Keith, I bet you're exhausted."

The older man started to led Keith out of the hut and towards another, but Keith wasn't really there. He was lost in thought, and he abruptly yanked both of them to a stop in the middle of the path.

"Keith, you ok?"

"What's the name of the tribe Allura was talking about?"

"Uh, I think they're called the Galra."

Keith shut down again, his mind spiraling away into memory.

He was maybe ten years old, returning home at sundown after a day playing with Takashi. When he entered their small shack, his mother was seated on her bed, carefully carving away at a bow. She looked up when she heard him come in, and smiled softly at her son.

"Mom?" he asked, padding across the shack to stand beside her. "Why don't we live with my father?"

The woman let out a choked sounding surprised noise, nearly dropping her knife. After taking a moment to recover herself, she carefully laid her work to the side and began forming her question with her fingers.

'Why are you asking?'

"We live so close to Takashi and Hayalson," he responded, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I just thought it was weird we didn't live together."

With a sigh, his mother gestured for him to bring her a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick. He did so obediently, and when he returned, she lifted him into her lap. He settled happily against her shoulder while she began writing.

'Hayalson is a very kind man, and he has done nothing but help us ever since I arrived here, but he is not your father. Your father was named Culmar.'

Keith frowned, poking lightly at the paper. "What happened to my father?" he asked seriously. His mother squeezed him slightly before returning to the parchment.

'I was born to a large, powerful tribe called the Galra. Your father was not one of them, but joined the tribe when we got married. About two years before you were born, he got into trouble for doing a good thing. The tribe didn't punish him because I asked, but a year later he made another mistake. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and his actions had terrible consequences. The tribe killed him for it, cut out my tongue and sent me into exile.'

Keith bit his lip, furrowing his brow in a troubled manner. "Mom, was my father a bad person?"

His mother's eyes widened, and her script was a scribble in her hurry to answer.

'No, no my son. Your father was a very brave man, and he did what was right. You're growing up to be exactly like him.'

Unexpected tears welled up in Keith's eyes, and he pressed closer to his mother. She hugged him obligingly for a long moment, but pulled off before he was ready, making him pay close attention as she signed.

'Don't. Tell. Anyone.'

Keith never had. Even when he went to Shiro for comfort after the story, he didn't tell him. He just said he had found out Hayalson wasn't his father. And after all of this, after hearing everything the Galra had done, he probably never would.


After three days of watching Keith pace angrily in the hut they had given him, Allura got fed up. So she handed him a basket full of bandages and poultice and sent him out to change wound dressings on the dragons.

"Don't get eaten!" she called cheerfully as he left. He just grumbled to himself and kicked a rock out of his way, following the path towards the forest. Coran had mentioned some of the more solitary dragons liked to hide there, and recommended that's where he start.

The day was warm and sunny, as almost all days on this island were, though the air cooled significantly once he passed the tree line. The forest was quiet and calm, and for the first time in almost a week he felt he could relax now that he was away from everyone else. He'd known Matt his entire life, and Shiro and him were pretty close, but he had never become friends with him the way he had with Katya. Allura and Coran were nice, but they were still strangers, and Keith couldn't trust them. Not yet.

He continued further and further into the forest, keeping an eye out for the telltale flash of scales or the smell of smoke. For a long while, he didn't see a trace of any dragons. He was just about to turn back and check the valley instead when he heard a rustle to his right. Turning his head quickly, he caught the smallest glimpse of deep red as it retreated.

Keith followed with a smirk, pursuing the dragon into the brush. It traveled surprisingly quickly for a dragon on the ground, but it wasn't quite fast enough. Every time it almost lost him, Keith would spot the very tip of it's tail disappearing behind a tree, or the slight glint of light off of a scale.

You can't get rid of me that easily, Keith thought as he followed the dragon into a clearing. It seems the dragon had gotten sick of being chased through the woods, and now it stood its ground in the center of the meadow, a threatening growl rising from the back of it's throat. He paused on the edge of the grass, considering the creature before him.

If he was remembering Matt's rants correctly, this was a Monstrous Nightmare. A little smaller than normal, but the teeth jutting out from the underbite and the graceful curve of its horns made him pretty certain of his identification. It growled again, and when Keith didn't move, reared up on its hind legs.

The dragon gave a fearsome roar, flapping its large wings in warning. It's scales were a deep, dark red, and when the light caught them they gleamed like freshly spilled blood. Despite the jaw bristling with needles and the dangerous spines running down it's back, Keith thought it was the prettiest dragon he had seen yet. It shrieked again, still waving its wings.

"If you hate me so much," Keith murmured, half to himself, "Why don't you just fly away?" His eyes wandered over the dragon's wings, looking for the white of a bandage, but instead saw a tear. A large portion of the webbing on the dragons left wing was torn, hanging in several loose strips like it had been shredded. It was bleeding slightly, probably from when it had waved its wings at him.

Keith frowned. Allura said they nursed dragons to health, so why was this one still hurt? Maybe they just hadn't gotten around to it yet?

Keith took a tentative step into the clearing, then immediately retreated when the whole flipping dragon burst into flames.

Yup, definitely a Monstrous Nightmare he thought dully, watching the flames crackle around the dragon's flesh. It was too far to feel the heat, but the smoke still found a way to sting his eyes and make them water. But Keith still didn't move, and the dragon roared, sounding more frustrated than angry at this point.

A moment later it extinguished it's flames and settled to the ground with a loud, exasperated huff, carefully folding its injured wing against it's torso. Keith lifted a foot to take a step, but put it back down when the dragon growled.

"Alright, fine." Keith huffed back at it, "I see how it is." The dragon narrowed it's slitted yellow eyes at him as he slowly lowered himself to a sitting position, but decided it was fine as long as he didn't get any closer and didn't growl.

Keith crossed his legs and got comfortable. If there was anything he was familiar with, it was someone lashing out because they were afraid. And the last thing you should do in that situation was rush them. So he sat, and the dragon sat, and they stared at each other, both waiting for the other to break.

Well, it was more like a glaring than staring. The dragon laid its head down on the ground and watched Keith carefully, giving a quiet growl whenever he moved. And Keith stayed firmly where he was, refusing to give ground, but looking steadily at the dragon in a way he hoped wasn't threatening.

It took a long time. The sun moved slowly overhead, the shadows changed and spun around the trees, but still neither dragon nor man moved an inch. The dragon was stubborn, but so was Keith, and he'd be damned if he lost to a giant lizard.

The sun was edging at the tops of the trees before the stalemate ended. The dragon's eyelids drooped wearily, blinking once, twice, and then finally gave in and closed. It seemed to relax minutely, it's head lolling slightly and it's wings loosening from it's sides. Keith indulged himself in a victorious smirk before climbing to his stiff legs.

The dragon kept its eyes closed as Keith approached, as if to say 'Whatever, human, do what you want'. Still carefully avoiding it's jaws, Keith made his way around to the injured wing. The dragon hissed a little, and some smoke escaped it's nostrils when Keith ran a hand over it's slick scales, but it didn't move or try to kill him. So he figured he was safe enough and bent to the task of bandaging the wound.

The dragon, a she as Keith discovered, had really done a number on her wing. The wound looked several days old at least, and once again he found himself wondering why Allura or Coran hadn't dealt with it yet. Still, he did his best, and twilight had fallen over the meadow by the time he finished. A few fireflies emerged from the grass, and stars began to fade into view in the darkening sky as he stood up.

"There ya go." he murmured to the dragon, patting the arch of her wing. She turned her long neck and looked back at it, extending it away from her body and testing it with a slight whoosh.

"Hold on," Keith chided, patting the dragons side on instinct. She turned back, and if a dragon could possibly look offended, she did. "You're gonna need a few days to heal. Don't mess with it."

The dragon gave a low, displeased growl, but laid both her head and her wing back on the ground.

"I'll come back tomorrow." he said, making his way back around to the front of the dragon. "I promise." She snorted a little smoke at him, as if to say 'You better.'

He smiled a little, and turned to go.


As he promised, he did return the next day, and the next, and the day after that. He brought more bandages- as she tended to burn hers off- and food, which she always roasted with gentle waves of flame before consuming. On the fourth day, he gave in and named her.

"What do you think of Red?" he asked the dragon. They had become more comfortable with one another the past few days, and now he sat leaning against her shoulder. She twisted her neck to give him a long look. "I know it's kind of simple, but I think it has a nice ring to it."

She blew smoke in his face and plopped her large muzzle into his lap. He chuckled and scratched behind her horns.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He took to spending all day in the woods with her, and over the many hours, he learned her behaviors. She liked to chase shards of light that reflected off of his sword. She liked to be scratched, and if he hit a certain fold in her neck, she would drop into sleep instantly. She liked blowing smoke in his face, and seemed amused when he coughed and glared at her. She had this weird warbling noise she would make in the back of her throat that almost sounded like a laugh. She liked to eat fish, but mutton was her favorite.

He also learned what Red didn't like. She didn't like it when he played hide and seek in her blind spot. She didn't like it when he showed up late. And she certainly didn't like it when he brought visitors.

In his own defense, Keith hadn't known they were following him. But the other inhabitants of the island had noticed his change in temperament from when he first arrived, and when Matt mentioned some of the more choice cuts of meat going missing, Allura and Coran felt obliged to discover the source of his strange behavior. So one day, keeping a fair distance back, the pair of them followed him into the forest.

He had clearly been going to the same place for several days now, if his practiced steps were anything to go by. At length, he broke through the tree line, entering Red's clearing.

Keith smiled up at the now familiar red dragon, but it faltered when her pupils went to slits and she backed up several feet.

"Red?" he asked, feeling a small sliver of ice pierce his chest. "What's wrong?"

The dragon hissed, but her eyes weren't quite focused on him, and her body language was all hunched up and defensive.

Keith turned sharply, sweeping narrow eyes over the tree line. Red crept up behind him, and he felt her hot breath exhaling over his shoulder.

"Who's there?" he called, a dangerous edge in his voice. He was about to reach for his sword when two shapes emerged from the trees. He recognized the silver hair and orange mustache, but his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Allura? Coran? What are you doing here?"

"Keith," Allura's voice held a warning, and Red seemed to sense it. She braced her wings against the ground and growled, the sound reverberating in Keith's chest. "Step away from that dragon."

"Why?" he snapped, resting a hand against the dragon's neck. "I'm doing what you guys asked me to."

"It's not safe." Allura said, trying to take a step into the clearing, but she hesitated when Red let out a shriek. "She's very aggressive."

"Nearly burned my mustache off." Coran added, casting the dragon a distrusting look while stroking the facial hair in question.

"She's fine with me." Keith retorted, scratching behind her horns. "Maybe you two just didn't know how to handle her."

Allura gave a sniff of offense. "My father was a famed Dragon Rider." she said hotly. "I should think I know how to handle a dragon."

Keith harrumphed grumpily, and Red turned to look back at him. He patted her snout, the same way Allura had done to Soothesong that first day.

"Whatever. I promised Red a treat today, so you two can do what you want." He reached his hand into the bag he carried over his shoulder, and Red immediately dropped her defensive stance, wiggling excitedly from snout to tail. Keith gave an amused grin, seemingly having forgotten his audience, and produced a handful of spiky green grass. Red exploded, trying to crush her entire body into the small spring that Keith rubbed against her nose.

"Dragonnip!" Allura exclaimed, making Keith jump slightly. Thankfully, Red was too entranced by the grass to pay the other two humans any mind. "I've been looking everywhere for that! Where did you find it?"

"Uh, there's a little valley on the far side of the mountain. There's a whole field of it there."

Allura gave a little shriek of frustration. "I've been there before! How could I have missed it?" Suddenly, her anger dropped away, and she was giving Keith yet another sharp look.

"That valley is a day's walk away, at least." she said. "We'd have noticed if you were gone for that long."

"I didn't walk." Keith said with a casual shrug. "I rode Red."

Allura an Coran's jaws dropped so far they could've left an indention in the earth.

"You just rode her?" Allura's voice was loud and shrill, finally pulling Red's attention from the grass. "Without any training? Without a saddle?"

"Will you quit yelling at me?" Keith shouted back, and Red coiled around him protectively, sensing his agitation. "You wanted me to find something to do while you guys sit around and do nothing about the Galra, so I did."

Red nudged at his chest, and he leaned his forehead against her snout, letting his hair cover his eyes. He ground his teeth, trying to hold back the rest of his angry words.

"I'm sorry, Keith." Allura said. She was speaking quietly, and she was a little hard to hear from the edge of the meadow. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Red won't hurt me." he responded, and Red nuzzled at him. "We understand each other."

Allura looked at Coran with an anxious expression, but he just laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Leave them be, Allura." he counseled. "If I recall correctly, your father's Monstrous Nightmare was also quite unsociable."

Allura chewed the inside of her lip, still watching the two interact with wariness. But eventually she let Coran lead her back to their responsibilities, leaving the boy and his dragon to themselves.