Chapter 11

A dragon is a large, serpent-like legendary creature that appears in the folklore of many cultures around the world. Beliefs about dragons vary drastically by region, but dragons in western cultures since the High Middle Ages have often been depicted as winged, horned, four-legged, and capable of breathing fire. Dragons in eastern cultures are usually depicted as wingless, four-legged, serpentine creatures with above-average intelligence.

(Ryan)

Faerie magic was the worst.

It was elemental— primal. Their bond with the natural world coupled with their ancient sensibilities make for a formidable combination.

Gwyllion's mist had easily ensnared him in its grip; he had lost his way in mere moments. If it hadn't been for Hope, he probably would have wandered through these godforsaken woods for the rest of his miserable existence.

Hope.

She had knocked him to the ground just before he fell into one of the many rocky pits that littered the landscape.

It seemed being tackled by a wolf was an underrated cure for faerie enchantment.

It had taken him a moment to even recognize her, coming out of his trance. She was as formidable as ever, silvery white fur offset by a luminous gaze. She was all winter, icy and sleek, except for her eyes— her eyes burned like fire.

He was lost in those eyes when she lowered her head down to lick his cheek. The sensation was jolting, if he hadn't been alert before, he certainly was then.

He barely had enough time to register what had happened before she demanded him to close his eyes. It was the loudest he had ever heard her through their bond; he felt every ounce of desperation in her plea.

He couldn't have refused her if he tried.

Then, just like that, the wolf fell away.

Somehow, feeling her transformation seemed even more intimate that watching it would have been.

He felt her emotions first, her panic was replaced by an incredible sense of urgency and energy. Her power was raw and untamed, coursing between them like electricity.

Then, the weight above him changed drastically. The crushing pressure of the wolf was replaced with something soft, warm, and distinctly female.

He swore he wasn't breathing.

Where powerful paws had pinned him to the ground, hands now gripped his shoulders. He felt her long hair fall around his face as she leaned down—

"Ryan, please don't open your eyes," she whispered in his ear.

"Hope?" he asked quietly; it was the first time he had heard her speaking voice in quite some time.

Wait, did she just call him Ryan?

For some reason, the thought caused his heart to beat sporadically in his chest.

"I don't know what happened," she said, clearly distressed. "I've never had trouble controlling my transformations before."

He began to open his eyes on instinct before a hand came down, covering them.

"I told you, do not open your eyes, Agent Clarke!"

Ah, he was Agent Clarke once more.

"I was carrying your clothes with me," he said. "I'm sure if you look around where you so gracelessly tackled me to the ground, you'll find them."

"Watch it," she said. "I may not have claws anymore, but I can still hurt you."

He laughed as he felt her get up, but the absence of her body heat bothered him more than he liked to admit.

"Oh, thank God," he heard her say from several paces away. After a few minutes, he heard her footsteps return.

"You can look now," she said, peering down at him, dressed and fully human once more.

"I just need my pendant... " Her hands went to her neck, feeling for it, despite just acknowledging its absence.

He mirrored her action, finding the Mikaelson family pendant still fastened securely around his neck.

He stood up and reached around to remove it; he felt a distinct chill where it had been laying against his chest.

She took the necklace from him with a small smile. He tried to feel her for her thoughts, but it seemed different now that she was no longer in wolf form. He had a vague impression of her emotions, but her echoing thoughts were now absent.

However, there was no mistaking her feelings as she took the necklace in her hand. She was relieved and content, a feeling of sentimentality hung around her, warm and soft.

It was amazing how much she seemed to care for her family.

Wonder what that felt like...

He watched her struggling with the locking mechanism on the chain, brushing her hair away in annoyance.

"Do you want me to…?" he trailed off, uncertain of whether or not she wanted his help working the clasp.

"It's fine, I do this all the time," she said quickly.

"I can help, if you let me," he said, moving closer.

"It's just because you're watching," she said in an irritated tone, turning her back to him.

She wouldn't ask for help, but he could pick up on her frustration and embarrassment.

He quietly came up behind her and took the necklace from her hands— they were shaking.

"I saw my aunt," she said quietly.

"Your aunt? Here?" he asked with surprise.

She nodded as he gently pushed the hair away from the nape of her neck.

"It was an illusion—faerie glamour," she explained. "I wanted it to be her so badly. I'm worried that when I get back, no one will…" she let her words trail off.

"Remember you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she admitted, so softly he barely caught it.

He finished clasping the necklace and she turned to face him, eyes shining.

"The Mikaelson name...it's been a part of me since before I was even born. If no one remembers me, who will I be?"

He sighed. It wasn't exactly a feeling her could empathize with. When he had spent time in Malivore, he hadn't left a family or friends behind.

It was an inconvenience more than anything, reestablishing himself at Triad.

Still, she looked up at him expectantly, with rare vulnerability in her expression.

"I don't know what will happen if we ever get out of here," he began. "But, maybe it won't be such a bad thing if no one remembers you're a Mikaelson. You could just be…you," he offered.

She gave him a guarded look, her emotions were indecipherable.

"I've never had that. I've always had the weight of the world on my shoulders, even my name, 'Hope,' I've had to be that for people…" she said softly.

"You belong to yourself first, Hope," he said. "At the end of the day, you're the one who's going to be there for you. You have to believe that you're worth it."

He noticed the corners of her mouth turning up into a ghost of a smile. "You're being genuine," she said. "I can feel it, I can see it. You look different when you're being real with me…"

He took a step back—he wasn't sure what brought on this honesty between them, but he couldn't risk her finding out about his plans. He needed to close himself off to this—-

Suddenly, a snapping of twigs caused them both to turn.

Hope threw her hands out in a protective magical stance, already preparing for the worst. But there was no need—a young man emerged from behind a nearby tree, visibly wounded.

"Can you help me?" the boy asked in a broken voice, leaning against the tree for support.

If he had to guess, he seemed about sixteen years old, Asian heritage, with a particularly nasty wound to his upper chest.

"Oh my god," Hope said, rushing to close the distance between herself and the stranger.

"What happened?" she asked, hands fluttering around the boy, trying to assess the damage. "Who— What did this to you?"

"Dragon," he bit out, closing his eyes in pain. "I've been hiding in these woods trying to get away from it…"

"Who are you?" Ryan asked skeptically.

He didn't trust this newcomer.

No one ended up in Malivore by accident.

"Clarke!" Hope chided, "Leave him alone, he's hurt!"

"I'm just a human— I don't know how I ended up here," the boy said, meeting Ryan's eyes. "But he looks like them, the people in suits who put me here."

Hope turned to him, accusation in her eyes. " What did you do?" she asked, her emotions flared around her, hot and angry.

"I didn't have anything to do with him," he said, inclining his head towards the boy. "But what makes you believe his story? Everything here has been trying to kill us!"

"Oh, please, he's in no shape to kill anyone," Hope said, gesturing to boy's blood soaked clothes. "I can do a spell," she said turning her attention back to the stranger.

"What's your name?" she asked, helping the boy sit at the base of the tree.

"It's Huan," he said, smiling up at Hope.

"Well, Huan, it's your lucky day," she said. "I just so happen to be a witch, and I can heal your wound."

"A witch?" he asked, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "How is any of this even real? "

Hope laughed, but Ryan wasn't buying the boy's play at naivety.

"Where did you encounter the dragon?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Out in the rock formations," Huan said through gritted teeth.

"The rock formations?" Hope asked. "That's where we're heading, we need to get to Mali—"

"We're looking for someone," Ryan cut her off. "We think they're in the caves there."

Huan narrowed his eyes at him.

The mistrust was definitely mutual.

"Huan, if I heal you, do you think you could show us the best way to get there? We've gotten turned around recently…" Hope said.

"If you can heal me, I'll do anything for you," Huan said eagerly.

"Just directions will do," Hope said lightly. "Now, this may feel strange, but hang in there…" She began muttering quietly under her breath as she moved her hands lightly over Huan's chest.

Ryan could feel her concentration, she was using a tremendous amount of energy, he could feel it.

This spell was costing her.

As he watched, Huan's wounds began to heal over, leaving nothing but a torn and bloody shirt.

"That was amazing!" Huan said, running his hands over the spot where the wound had been. "You're—you're incredible."

"Yeah, yeah," said Ryan. "Just make with the directions, GPS boy."

"Clarke! Would it kill you to not be a jerk to every single person you meet?" Hope asked, planting her hands on her hips.

"It's fine if he doesn't trust me," Huan said, getting up from the forest floor. "I wouldn't trust me either."

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, he's always an asshole," Hope said.

"Yeah, you're a real peach yourself, Hope," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Hope? Your name is Hope?" Huan asked. "What a fitting name for such a beautiful girl."

He could tell Hope was blushing. It was sickening, really.

"I came from that way," Huan said, pointing to a narrow rocky trail off to their right. "I think I remember the way."

"Thank you, Huan. I'm so glad we met you," Hope said pointedly as she began walking up the path's incline.

"Not as happy as I am," Huan returned, matching her stride and falling into step beside her.

Ryan watched them as they began to trek up the path, leaving no room for him on the narrow walkway.

"Come on, suit, try to keep up," Huan shouted over his shoulder, casting Ryan a wicked smirk.

He could hear Hope laugh as she playfully touched Huan's arm.

Ryan felt like killing him.