A/N: Prior reading of Clara Oswald and the Last of the Dragon Lords is highly recommended. This is also a warning that there shall be brief horror-adjacent descriptors, as well as blindness-related angst out of the Twelve character, and I apologize in advance.

Basil Oswald and the Caretaker of Dragons

One

Berk: it's a wee, quaint place that I stumbled upon by chance. Though the people that inhabit it are stubborn and pudding-brained, they are also warm and devoted in their own way. You need to be, when snow is a constant threat—even in the summer—and traders don't always come when scheduled thanks to storms and other terrors on the sea. The community is close, which makes their life possible, even as they adjust to the most impossible of things.

That thing is living side-by-side with dragons.

For you see, I was the true Last of the Dragon Lords. My sister would have readily took that title, but I knew different. To be a Dragon Lord was to be friends with a dragon, to live peacefully and harmoniously with them, and to help them and others as is fit. I was passing on the knowledge to my first wife and eldest child years ago when my sister murdered them. To her, being a Dragon Lord was about complete dominance over dragons, mastery beyond measure, and she knew that our differing philosophies would clash. That is why she took out the ones who seemed to threaten her the most despite the facts to the contrary. She thought she had killed me as well, though I escaped, living a meager existence until my dragon hit a skua mid-flight and crash-landed on Berk. I fought my sister again and now, these four years later, I have a new life with a new family. My wife's village and the dragons her and I now hold dominion over have meshed together in peace and prosperity. It makes me glad for our children that they shall grow in a community where human and dragon no longer fight one another to the death, but stand shoulder-to-haunch in the face of our enemies. Their aunt might have stolen my vision in our last battle, but I take solace in that with each day that passes, with each child I teach, there is something that I refuse to be taken away from me again:

I will soon no longer be the Last of the Dragon Lords.

The worst part about Basil having been blinded was that he could still see in his dreams.

"What is it Dad?"

He had glanced over and saw his daughter, her eyes bright with curiosity as she held up a small rock. She had been a sponge for knowledge soon as she was born and that day had been no different. Following him out into the caves, the two were letting her mother rest, keeping her away from dragons and the dragons away from her.

"It's a fragment of dragonsblood," he explained. "It's a rock often found by dragons' nests. Constant heat from their breath changes the composition of the stone around them, causing these."

"Neat," she marveled. She held it in her palms and stared at it intently before turning up at him. "Why does Auntie Velda want it so badly?"

"Does she now?"

"She says it's for the Old Ways. What's the Old Ways?"

"Ways we do not need, because we are friends with dragons, not their masters," he frowned. "You shouldn't listen to Auntie Velda when she says things like that."

"How come?"

"It's not coming from the right place in her heart." Basil gestured above them, looking up at the dragons resting on ledges and amongst the cracks in the ceiling. "Auntie Velda sees things to control, as though they were normal animals. Mum and I know different—they're the same as us."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I'm…"

Basil stopped as he looked down at his daughter; a lump formed in his throat as he saw her eyes were dead and glassed-over, and her neck bent in a peculiar position. He saw her collapse onto the cave floor, blood pooling around her.

"Forget about something, brother?!"

Turning back towards the ceiling, Basil saw that Velda had appeared, riding her dragon with all the haught and might he'd expected of her over the years. In the dragon's mouth was his wife's limp form, guts already gorged and limbs only half there. He opened his mouth in an attempt to curse his sister, yet no words came out.

No…!

Basil gasped as he woke, sliding off the chair onto the floor. Everything was in darkness as he was thrust back into reality—just as cruel yet differently so—and he fumbled to grab hold of the chair. He stood shakily and shook the nap from his limbs. That's right… he was at home while his wife was away with their dragon.

"Aodh!" he called out. "Are you up from your nap?"

"Yes, Dad!" replied the clear, tiny voice. Based on the position of the chair and the direction of the voice he figured the boy was near the west window, coloring away. "You slept long."

"Dad was tired," he admitted. Basil walked over towards the window with his hand outstretched, finding the empty chair easily. He sat down and listened to the sound of his son drawing, taking solace in his company.

His son.

As normal as he knew it was for people to go blind, or be born as such, he could not help but feel a particular pain regarding his vision's current state. He would never see his child grow into a proud young man, let alone see his drawings, and it hurt him deep inside. It had been nearly four years since he'd lost his vision and, although he had adjusted for the most part, there was still the fact that he felt so terribly alone, despite the fact he lived with his family…

...his second family, and although that modifier gave him strength, it also reminded him of what he once lost.

"You okay, Dad?" Aodh asked. "You look sad."

"I was just thinking about someone from long ago," Basil admitted. "Not to worry."

"Dad… you wake up from naps shouting. Falling. Why?"

"I see in my dreams, but not when awake," he said. He patted his son's soft curls and frowned—the boy's sister's hair had been curlier, but that was so long ago now. "It's very disorientating."

"It sounds weird." The clack of the pencil on the tabletop reached Basil's ears and Aodh's wee hands grabbed one of his. "Do you want to see my new drawing?"

"Yes please." He let the boy trace his pointer finger along the pencil marks, outlining a dragon and four people. "That's Idris, and Mum, and me, and you, and Uncle Danny! You can't tell, but I gave him a really cool leg."

"Not too cool, is it?"

"It looks like a dragon's foot!"

"Then way too cool for your Uncle Danny," Basil smirked. Aodh giggled in reply—got him. "How about if you get us some water?"

"Yes!" The chair scraped against the floorboards and Aodh scurried across the room to where the water pitcher sat. Basil knew he could get it himself, but that the boy loved helping, and help he would.

He would be helping far too much for far too long, the man feared.

"Here you go, Dad," Aodh said. Basil felt his son ease a cup into his hand and he took a sip; yes, it was water from the pitcher Clara had left them with the day before. He could hear the boy slurping his water carefully, still not comfortable with adult-sized cups for himself. "Hey Dad?"

"Yes?"

"When's Mum getting home?"

"Why? Is it that bad staying with just me?"

"No… I just miss her," Aodh admitted. "Do you miss her too?"

"More than you realize," Basil said. He reached out and stroked his son's hair again. "Now, I need you to tell me about what's going on outside the window, because I miss that too."

Anything to distract the boy from the obvious, he figured, and he was alright with that.

It was nearly noon as dragon and rider touched down on the rocky island, ready for rest and some exploring. Having alighted, Clara took off her helmet and glanced around, seeing that there was little trace of humans or dragons anywhere. Even with the mist crawling around the island with its wispy tendrils, it was still clear what was before them: no permanent settlement, human or otherwise. She took the map from her pocket, looked at it, compared to the two on the horizon—yes, they had stayed on-course—and placed it back in her scale-covered coat.

"Pretty quiet, isn't it?" she wondered aloud. Idris snorted and looked at her rider incredulously—of course it was quiet, they were the only ones there. The dragon's throat rumbled as it nuzzled against the human's abdomen, reminding her of what was at risk. "Not you too; bad enough I have other humans scolding me about being out. Am I waddling yet? Do I look like I swallowed a football? Can I even be mistaken for something other than having a few extra helpings of mash now and then?"

The dragon snorted.

"Alright, then I'm fine." She put her hand to her stomach, knowing the curve was just barely visible, only to her, her husband, and the dragon. "They're okay. Let's get this done and over with so we can get back home before Basil burns himself on the hearth again."

Idris snorted and shook her head as she plodded forwards, taking the lead as they began to explore the small island. It was much like many of the others that she had been recharting the past few years, making new maps for comparisons against the old ones, and there was an odd sort of familiarity to it. They did not often find much in their travels—some rocks here, trees there, an odd-looking squirrel or rabbit out for blood every now and then—and oftentimes there was more to their maps than there were to the ones in the council's hands. Too many generations had they concentrated on fighting dragons, so now that they were allies, there was room to find the inconsistencies that had previously no time for correcting.

Noticing a cave nearby, Idris and Clara went in to see how deep it went. There was already a freshwater spring and creek on the island; if there was adequate shelter of the permanent sort there as well, it could be used as a stopover point during trading runs. The opening could give way to most dragons, though it began to narrow as they went further, proving only a few were truly able to enter.

"Interesting…" Clara mused. She took the sword from her back and lit it, using the weapon as a torch while the light from outside grew dimmer. Idris insisted on using her snout for leverage as they investigated further, allowing her rider to use her for support in the uneven descent.

Before long, a cavity opened up, partially lit by an opening towards the ceiling. It was not large, but it was bigger than she thought, and it made her hopeful. A pool of water was on one end, while high rocks sat in the other. Clara touched a nearby rock and saw a waterline—it seemed inhabitable, if prone to flooding.

"Not bad," she mused aloud. "I think this is one the chief is going to want to know about." Idris purred lowly in agreement; the more useful they could prove themselves, the easier it would be to continue integrating humans and dragonkind in Berk.

Clara was just about to step further into the cave, however, when Idris hunched down and growled. She looked at the dragon, then the empty space she was glaring at, confused.

"What's the matter?" she asked. Something shifted in the darkness, just barely visible in the torchlight. "Who's there?!"

The sound of pebbles crunching beneath footfalls reached Clara's ears and Idris moved herself to be in front of her. About twenty feet away, a dragon and rider shimmered into existence, the mount looking very much the same as Idris. The rider dismounted and stood erect, body language unsure of what they were seeing.

Another rider! A Dragon Lord's mount! Clara saw that the other person was taller than her and lithely built, dressed in leathers and wools just as Basil had been when she first met him. A masked helmet obscured their face and they gripped a staff in their gloved hand.

"You're not Velda," Clara frowned. "Your build is too different—you're too tall—who are you?"

The rider hesitated, mask hiding their face and any emotions that could have been thusly gleaned. Clara stared at them as her thoughts raced: who was this and why were they there?

"Are you…?" was all she was able to get out before the rider hopped back on the dragon and flew away, up towards the ceiling and squeezing out through the high opening.

Quickly, Clara went and remounted Idris, flying off in the direction of the other rider. Once outside the cave, she watched as they disappeared in the mist and vanished as though there had been no one there. The dragon sniffed around, attempting to get a hold of the scent, only for there to be nothing.

"You felt that too, didn't you?" Clara marveled.

Idris snorted in agreement.

"There's another Dragon Lord…" she mused aloud. She patted Idris's side encouragingly. "Come on—we have to tell Basil." The dragon grunted and took off, headed for Berk.

They needed to get home. Now.

When all was said and done, Basil seemed to take the news fairly well. It was the following evening, after Clara and Idris had gotten in late and grabbed a sandwich roll for dinner. She had broken the news to him in their house; with Aodh climbing all over him as a distraction, it was more to take in than it should have been, and it was plenty still.

"Are you sure about that, Clara?" Basil asked. Aodh had settled on his father's shoulders, with him holding the energetic boy in place by his legs. "You saw something real?"

"Why wouldn't it be real?" she snorted, feeling somewhat insulted. "I saw it, didn't I? Don't you believe me? I'm not crazy."

"I'm sure there have been plenty of other stable-minded individuals who have gone and hallucinated a Dragon Lord, not just caught a fleeting glimpse of me or a family member." His eyes narrowed in thought. "We were legends for a reason—it's easy to see us in shadows and smokes. I don't blame anyone for letting their eyes and minds get tricked."

"No, Idris saw them too," she replied. "I doubt we'd both hallucinate the same thing."

"Did you now?" Idris purred and nudged the Doctor's arm with her muzzle. As his skin touched her scales, she projected to him what she felt—vague memories and approximations he had long-ago learned how to humanize. He nodded and Aodh began to bounce to attempt mimicking his father's movement. "How curious… Clara, I need you to stay here."

"Wait… what do you mean by that?" she frowned. "I'm the only one who's seen this shadowy figure. Shouldn't that mean that I need to be out there investigating?"

"I'd rather send Danny with some of the Stealth Riders," he said. "We don't know what this person's intentions are, and I don't want you or our child to be at risk." He let go of one of Aodh's legs so that he could touch her hip, reminding her of what was to happen—hopefully—before the snows. "Bravery is not the same as recklessness."

"Except, there have been plenty of Berkian women who fought with and killed dragons while further along than I am now," she rationalized. "Danny and I can do some scouting, take some of the Stealth Riders for good measure, but we need to investigate this. I mean… another Dragon Lord?! This is huge!"

"There are no other Dragon Lords, Clara," Basil said. "There's just me. The students here on the island will be able to confidently be called that one day, Aodh will one day, but until then… I'm the only one."

"...except I saw compelling evidence contrary to such," she stated. "We have to send out a search party, get into proper contact with this person. Weren't there other Dragon Lord clans? Other factions? Dynasties? Tribes? Grumpy hermit relatives?"

"There were, but they all were wiped out…"

"...to your knowledge! They could be the last of another clan, and think of the knowledge they might be able to help you share! Things that could have died in your family and stayed in theirs!"

"Which is precisely why I don't want you to get your hopes up!" Basil snapped. He placed Aodh down on the floor and it was clear that his heart was pained. Exhaling, he softened his tone as his son clung to his leg. "There were more Dragon Lords like Velda than there ever were of ones like me. Whomever this person is, it is more likely they would have aligned themselves with my sister before any of Berk."

"You sure you know that for a fact?"

"I know that now." His face twisted in anger, though she stood fast knowing the emotion was not directed at her. "Learn from my mistakes, Clara. We might be the Doctor, but the Doctor has already found out what fuels other Dragon Lords' passion. Please, Clara, be brave, but don't act rashly. I don't want to lose you… I'm tired of losing people."

He didn't need to go into detail for her to know what he meant. She pressed their bodies together and placed her hand on his cheek, comforting him with her touch.

"You won't lose me."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, you daft old man," she chuckled. She held him close, stroking his back gently. Down at her legs, she could feel her shins move closer to his thanks to his son attempting to hug them both at once. "How about if we all go to bed, hmm…? Aodh can even stay with us."

"Yeah! Stay with Mum and Dad!" Aodh cheered. Clara smiled privately as she watched her son scurry up the stairs towards his room, while she led her husband up to theirs. Idris grunted from the corner of the main floor where she had her nest of rocks, bidding her humans goodnight before they vanished for the evening.

She knew she didn't have to speak of the matter for the rest of the night. As she, Basil, and Aodh settled down in their bed for the night, Clara inherently knew her husband's fear, while still acknowledging how there was so much she didn't know. With their son between them they went to sleep, holding hands across the blankets, for tomorrow was a new set of worries.