When you had been through much, much more than you should, you want safety. You want a place in which no one will hurt you, in which you will be helped and gentled, welcomed and greeted. You want sanctuary.

They had moved before they should have.

It was obvious to him, their Blackhearts stark against everything else, and it was all according to plan. Their action was too coordinated not to raise suspicion of a kind that cannot be ignored. There was only one dragon there that would have motivation to spill the truth of her own volition, and that would mark her the most despicable traitor, one on whom no punishment would be too extreme, one that deserved nothing but deprivation of every right bestowed by flimsy morality. The only thing in the way of reducing her to an item, a toy, would be stopping others from killing her.

Saying that he 'looked over' ninety Nocta Furaes following him would be inaccurate, since they were under his close scrutiny all the time, just as the way ahead. The Blackhearts he recognised individually, as each of them was unique in their own way. One especially drew his attention: his son's, working well and stable. His son wasn't informed of his plot, but Moonlight had made it clear that there was no way he would lose sight of them, so he would not lose hope.

Skyler's peculiarly shaped Blackheart, though;, its continued existence was surprising. He was ready to detonate just over having to spend his life as a fairly well-treated slave and carried on only because of hope of release, hope that should have been stripped from him by now. Yet he was still alive. Did Moonlight's words work on him, or was he too weak to take his fate into his own hands, even in the most foolish of ways?

In the next case though, he knew without a doubt that his words carried on; the female founder of the Blitz, with a name in the human language, flew off and away from this whole group, and the only way she could do that would be to subjugate her rider. She was now performing a search pattern, with the only possible target being Blitz. He made a point not to mention her, and neither to mention her current actions, after all, he didn't know her name, and he purposefully kept his Gaze's limitations vague, and more time without her around would let him build a more solid basis of influence before she returns and is able to challenge it; he knew she didn't like him and would agree with him only begrudgingly, so if she could trample him easily then she would, and so he needed his own base of influence to protect him.

Some had died though, no one really important to him, so only more blame to place on Pitch, likely some tried to resist moving away from the point they knew rescue would come to, only to be met with fatal force from humans in fear for their lives. His son's friend was among them.

Oh well, fewer attachments were better for him, those were only weaknesses and sources of pain after all, and as much as he didn't care for how independent or strong his son was, since if he wasn't, he could just keep him close and protect him, and if he was, he would just need to let him do his own thing, though preferably one he directed him to so as to cause no trouble, he really wished him no pain at all, only happiness.

Their targets neared. Sufficiently so for his Gaze to see their predicaments exactly. His blood boiled at the sight of his son. It was time to brief the others on the plan.

Moonlight roared, shot a plasma bolt into the air and stalled, rapidly gaining altitude but losing speed, looking down at them all as they came to a stop too, uniformly, without confusion, already awaiting his words.

"Our brethren will pass within thirty minutes of flight from here at tonight, so let's land and rest until the time comes. Let our enemy be exhausted and us be fresh. We will discuss the details on the ground."

And so, heeding his word, one descending after another, the black wave gracefully touched down. It was an amazing feeling, to have so many listen to him without question. He awaited the moment when he could order them anything and see only obedience, but alas, they still had too much willingness to experiment, to question and vivisect everything. It is from this that their kind's name came from: Quirks. Experimentative, curious, thorough and with no fear of change itself that characterised so many, if not all, of the others. Yet those very qualities that made them so hard to control would be the end of their absolute liberty.

Now though, it was time to sort out all the potential issues and further assert his authority.

Waiting for situations to exploit or for others to come to him, he ate dried meat from his harness bag, saved for situations just like that; to move without hunting and therefore far, far faster. There wasn't all that much of it though, this half of the whole stock they gathered over the pre-winter months, enough only for a few meals for each of them, with the other half eaten during winter. Even with hunting other dragons, the biggest singular sources of nutrition, it was painful to gather, sometimes literally as they had to endure hunger on occasion. No one would starve for it though.

He heard of other outposts trying to keep and breed whole flocks of prey, but so far simple animals were too horrified by their new caretakers for it to work. Yet another argument for subjugation, instead of extermination, of humankind. Besides, some hardship would make it more probable individuals would cross various unspoken lines, and let him justify introducing coercion all the easier.

Moonlight deposited the meat down when Aurora-dominii's companion, a dark green female called Virtus Unitata, headed to him with a scrunched nose and half-lidded eyes. Time for questioning then.

"Why aren't we waiting closer?" Ah, predictable.

"Because the enemy has scouts out, so they could be alerted to our presence before we can strike at the main force. Also, because half an hour of flying is just enough to make everyone properly awake. Did you think that I hadn't thought of it? I thought you trusted my capabilities." His reply was carried in an annoyed, disappointed tone.

"I- no, of course not. I was just curious." She wasn't as nervous as he would like, but it was still something he could work with.

"Do you want to be a leader then?" This time his voice was far more even, neutral, with a tint of excitement.

"Not really, I just wanted to know." If she were human, she would shrug. As she was a dragon though, she huffed instead.

"So you trust me to lead yet question my actions? Then you are wasting our time." His voice carried a hint of annoyance again, and he settled down to eat more of his meal. She stood there for a second, before padding off silently. It was working, little by little; making them fear authority would require force behind it, force that wasn't there yet, so he was limited to using their trust to guilt or reason them into not questioning, to make questioning his actions either a sign of distrust, or a useless and vain activity.

Such little things wouldn't usually make a difference. After all, if you flamed at the ocean, it will just refill the evaporated spot in nearly an instant. But his plan was to separate a puddle from said ocean. And then burning it out, though arduous, was a doable task. He had no hope of changing Blitz as a whole, but a few outposts, and therefore a few hundred Nocta Furae? Fully within his capabilities, and fully sufficient to serve his whims. Still, a few hundred was such a frustratingly small part of the whole. If he could only live as long as other dragon kinds do, he would take them all. He could potentially do so even with his more limited lifespan, but then he wouldn't have quite enough time to enjoy the spoils of such a success.

Now though, it was time to devise a nightmarish life for the humans that hurt his son so badly...

Nocta Furaes seemed to be parted into two groups: those creatures now marked with red or blue cloth at the collar, ones deemed loyal and ones merely obedient respectively. The red group consisted nearly entirely of Fireborns raised by humans, plus those few he suspected they trusted despite the lack of such conditioning, Pitch being among them.

Reds were left unrestrained and were utilised to supervise blues, as well as conduct tasks requiring loyalty, like scouting. They seemed to enjoy better treatment too; nothing surprising, just the usual motivations, if more extreme and organised into distinct tiers.

Both fore-scouts – vanguard and rearguard – were composed entirely of reds, four of them in each to be exact, meanwhile there were only eleven of them in the main force, having to deal with fifty-one blues; it was a precarious placement, but one he ultimately would approve of; information was the single most important thing to have, and it was worth the risk of having supervising dragons outnumbered five to one.

Except that those were vanguard and rearguard. Concepts taken entirely from ground-locked armies, that he, and various Blitz leaders, learned of from salvaged human books. And this was aerial combat. Even worse, the altitude they maintained was uniform, as if they tried to, again, be a land army in the air.

While Blitz itself hadn't found itself in direct conflict with big, organised dragon nests, the ways they organised themselves at war with each other were hardly a secret, and skirmishes with smaller groups happened semi-regularly. Thus, when the existence of this particular group of slavers so against their principles became apparent, they had little trouble researching this topic. Of course they wouldn't follow it to the letter — harsh discipline and obedience were swiftly supplanted by understanding and trust — but the main principles of such combat were adopted by them. Their enemies lacked even such knowledge meanwhile, doing what they were familiar with instead of thinking of what they should change.

Primo: their neat, symmetrical formations may seem effective to an untrained eye, but throwing them all into disarray would be hilariously easy. Just a head-on collision course and force them to separate, and they will have no idea how to cooperate anymore.

Secundo: The number of actual combatants among their enemies was far lower than theirs, with the blues being too restrained and mistreated to fight properly even if they wanted to, which, without a doubt, they did not.

Tertio: the Nocta Furae slaves had an interest in opposing their masters, in the best case causing more chaos and in the worst case simply flying away. Either way, it made victory even easier for his forces.

Now, there were several tricks the humans could still use to make it out alive, but as long as he had Scab back, Pitch as a toy, and was the clear victor, it was of no concern.

The clock, brought and looked after by Dominos Artifex, ticked. Such a useful tool, but more than that; a frame of reference for him to use, to be sure how much time had passed when it was such a relative thing, even to a deeply refined mind.

It was time. They took flight, all but invisible in the deepest part of the night, overlooking the domain below them as if being its masters. And they might as well be, with no one else to stake the claim. It didn't take them too long to arrive. Quietly but swiftly, fluidly, half of them descended, with the other half splitting in half again, one racing off to deal with the rearguard and vanguard, the other flying above the coming commotion, ready to turn their altitude into speed and intervene when the humans realised what was happening, easily intercepting anyone fleeing.

Moonlight, against his feelings, stayed above; his skin was stark white, and so him coming down would actually pose a danger to his son by early detection of their efforts. Besides, leading from behind was more his style in the first place.

Dark shapes in the darkness moved alongside other dark shapes, their increased numbers yet unspotted; the humans had decided to move without torches or lanterns, hoping to avoid detection, but that was worse than useless against the Gaze, and now only played to his favour.

Humans were struck in the heads, slumping dead or unconscious on the Nocta Furaes' backs. The Fireborns in question were quick to realise something was out of order, but before they could panic over their prosthetics slumping, their respective saviours already hugged them and whispered reassurances, alongside very contrite instructions; touch down in the safest way you can.

They obeyed, how could they not? It was clunky without a tailfin, a clumsy mix of soaring and diving in a straight line, but most managed without losing control too badly. And it was all according to plan; their jerks and weird trajectories drew the attention of the reds, making it easier to free others without risk.

Of course, it was only a question of time until someone mistook a red for a blue in the darkness. Moonlight noted to have some punishment administered to them later; it would be easy enough to justify, since fatalities were pretty much inevitable.

Chaos broke out as expected, but blues made a point to behave unthreateningly to both sides, even those with their masters still alive and conscious, as painful as it was for them with whips biting into their flesh.

In one specific case, though, Moonlight couldn't just watch. Fighting had broken out anyway, and while he would be more visible than others and so more of a target, particularly having killed the human leader's offspring, he couldn't suffer his son being hurt when he could effectively help him.

A white streak took a rapid dive, weaving the most effective way not only through the fighting, but through the air itself, able to understand the ever-changing geography of wind and heat even better than other dragons, all already masters of it, because he could detect its currents from a much greater distance.

He came from behind, wrathful, but with a much better idea for payback than just plain killing; the human got bonked on the head with just enough force to knock him out, and Moonlight hugged his prized offspring. His heart warmed up as a reward for close contact, whole arrays of worries whisking away in an instant.

Hello my son, let's... Let's take it easy. I am sorry it took so long.*

Scab could only purr and whine out his relief, which he did, and Moonlight assisted him with landing, not really paying mind to the ongoing battle but registering it nonetheless.

Reds were really well trained, both physically and mentally, but while the former helped them in keeping up with Blitz forces in speed and agility, the latter turned out detrimental; they were blindly obedient to their masters, humans with significantly inferior night vision, who were therefore unable to lead them effectively. Formations shattered just as he expected, shredded by evading opponents on a collision course. Some of the Blitz dragons ended up being chased by individual reds whose riders had forsaken their formations completely, only to be approached from behind by other Blitz members and taken down; the issue was that the shots weren't penetrating or even explosive, but bangs, meant to incapacitate, not kill. Some of the better shots decided to target humans, or prosthetics specifically. Just killing them would be more optimal and would easily have saved them a full three casualties and nearly ten wounded. Thankfully, none of the fatalities were close enough to blank out his Gaze.

The white dragon nuzzled his son as they landed, unwilling to go away, intending to remove the bridle from his head, but was shoved lightly, lovingly, and Scab pointed up at the battle with his snout and then looked back with a serious expression. Moonlight hesitated for a few seconds before taking off; leaving everyone else to stay with his son while he was safe would tarnish his reputation, and while victory was pretty much assured, the better it turned out, the better he would be viewed.

When the groups sent to eliminate the rearguard and vanguard joined up, returning from their finished tasks, the humans had had enough and attempted to withdraw. It was easy enough with the reds, but the blues resisted with all their might.

Until the humans brought out blades and put them to their throats or eyes, screaming at every shape moving in the darkness and threatening to kill their slaves if something moved too close, or if they resisted too much.

Combat stopped abruptly. It was a very tricky situation; how to get them out of it?

Aurora Dominii seemed to think the answer was speed. She rushed at the human from behind, trusting in the darkness to hide her, but the creature, as paranoid as it was in this situation, drove its weapon through the eye and into the brain of its slave the moment it spotted movement in the darkness. Moonlight's Gaze blanked out, blinded by the Blackheart explosion, and his lowly eyes tracked the shape he knew Aurora Dominii was, remembering her position from before her stunt's consequences.

"Stop, stop! You will only get them killed this way!" He thought hard. "Leave them be, we will get them later, when they let their guard down. Now make sure there aren't any stragglers and assist our liberated brethren." He identified the location he had chosen with his Gaze before, which took a painfully long time with such hilariously bad senses, others already moving to perform his last orders. "Gather them all in this area; there are quite a few clearings to take off and land on." Moonlight swiftly found out that occasionally attaching explanations to his actions significantly increased the chance of obedience, made the impression that he had thought it all through, and therefore decreased the amount of times he was questioned. He needed to do it less and less, but it was still crucial; he couldn't rebuke many as he did Virtus Unitata without garnering general dislike.

Heeding his own order, or rather advice, as everyone treated it yet, Moonlight descended towards his son quickly, ramming through the foliage he failed to spot and having his skin sliced slightly by branches; the lack of Gaze was annoying, but it never lasted long. Frankly, it gave him perspective on how others saw the world more than anything else, and so was of certain use.

Still annoying.

And thrown rapidly to his second plan when he found his son, struggling with his reinforced, metal bridle, he bounded over to him.

Hey, easy, easy. I will take care of it.* And he did, unlatching the thing and sliding it off. His son flamed on it in an instant, outright whining from relief with half-lidded eyes as it was melted into slag. Moonlight nuzzled and licked him affectionately, purring his support. It felt weird to show so much emotion, but truly right. His whole world narrowed down to Scab and only Scab, he didn't care about anything or anyone else for a time.

Finally, his heartfelt reassurance was interrupted by a tentative, inquiring warble. He blinked, looking at his son, wondering what he had in mind. There were a few questions he would think of in such a situation...

We are safe, those I brought with me will help you; you will be flying on your own terms again, just like me.* Moonlight showcased his prosthetic, balancing tentatively on three paws to use the pedal. Scab's gaze was filled with wonder as he looked at the moving piece of leather, and another sigh of relief exited his throat.

We are gathering with all the others, are you coming?* Moonlight voiced it as a question, and for once, fully intended to follow the whim of someone under his power instead of above it without question. His son, now more than ever, needed his most sincere, heartfelt support, and he was going to provide just that.

They both startled as the human on Scab's back shifted. Moonlight cursed himself for not taking care of this earlier and set to remove the biped from his son's back, promptly afterwards removing all of its weapons and tools, by which time he was finished, the creature was coming fully awake. He wondered for a moment but just bonked it on the head again and carried it in his jaws by the scruff of its neck; now was not the time. Scab followed after him. Was it yet more relief in his expression? Ah…he wasn't in a state to make decisions now.

As they walked in silence, Moonlight suddenly decided to fold his wing over his son's back, giving him a hug as they walked. They both purred all the while. With the human in his mouth, Moonlight couldn't speak and intellectually found it redundant, even detrimental if he did.

After all, it wasn't an option for his son, with his tongue in ruins. It not being one for him as well would just make his son feel more welcome.

...He never thought he would as much as plan to ask for one of those things.

Scab nudged him and moved to the side; soon the hustle and bustle sounded nearby. His son had better hearing than him, not really a surprise, considering that in most cases, the more you use something, the better it gets, and he used his Gaze over everything else, so his other senses were bound to be a little weaker.

Something to work on perhaps, but... other senses were just inferior. What would be the point? Situations just like this one. It wasn't as if he could just shut off the Gaze though, it was like an eye without an eyelid, always gazing and constantly overriding everything else, intersecting with sight, hearing and smell, aiding them, making it virtually impossible to separate one from the other.

Regardless, he stepped into the open space, his son hesitating for a moment before following. A cluster of dozens of black bodies turned to regard them, similar clusters being around a few nearby clearings, his recovering Gaze told him.

Moonlight threw the human onto a pile of other, six humans, four of which were bleeding from too-rough blows, all horrified and curled together. Not much, but it should be enough to prove his point. Then he looked over the crowd, finding Virtus Unitata.

"Where is Aurora Dominii?" He asked with faked tentativeness, seeing her distress. She sighed in sorrow. "She was too close when the Blackheart detonated. I... had to end her suffering."

Moonlight bowed his head in fake sorrow, then explained the situation to his son in a deliberately heavy voice. It was only for others though; his son knew very well he didn't really care. *One of us died, trying to free someone, but the human killed them both by causing a Blackheart detonation.*

Scab nodded, a bit crestfallen, but nowhere near enough to overpower his relief from this nightmare ending and rising elation from the freedom achieved at last. His father planned to keep him in the loop despite his newest disability, too.

Moonlight, meanwhile, was slightly irritated by Aurora Dominii's demise; if she were alive, he could have punished her, even guilt-tripped her into wanting to be punished, and therefore set the precedent. But as it was, she was killed by her own actions, so that was out of the question. Maybe use her spontaneous action's tragic end to justify some sort of discipline?

Moonlight had plans. Many plans, some he had just made, in fact, but now was not the time to pursue them. He nuzzled his son and settled down with him, embracing him the best he could, both feeding on and providing closeness. The only mutual relationship he had.

Here they were!

It was exactly what he would expect of an early Viking settlement: a bunch of tents, if big and sturdy ones, erected around a ship dragged on-shore and thrown upside down to work as a makeshift home in a haphazard tangle of alleyways traversed by bulky brutes in ragged armour and with crude but cruel weapons. Only one vessel was afloat on the sheltered bay's water, the whole place in a narrow canyon, near-invisible from above. The only reason why it was existing for so long, in any case.

The only reason they found it was that Eret had coaxed its location out of the settlers of this one mining outpost, who had traded with them for food a while ago. It was hidden, out of the way, very difficult to find, too small and on top of that likely seen as too unreliable for Grim Melds to take interest in, with even less contact with the outside world than most of humankind; in short, a perfect hideout.

Now, all he needed to do was fit in with these people. Then get them to treat his companion like a person, and not an animal.

Fun.

Eret went through one of the caves leading to the small settlement with 'Lucy'; it took quite a bit of coaxing, but she eventually agreed to come there with him, if uneasily. She would be helpful with two things; she could run faster than any human, and fly besides, so they should be able to escape easily if things went south, and her presence at his side alone would make him seem a more valuable addition to the settlement. He hoped. It was how his people thought, and he had no idea if Vikings would think the same way.

There was only one way to find out.

But as the dragoness suddenly stopped, snapping her head upwards with slitted pupils and primed flames directed at two spearmen hiding on a higher ledge, it came faster than he expected.

"Whoa, whoa, easy! We are not here to cause trouble." They were all at an impasse after he said it. If it came to blows, it would rely entirely on who struck first. Well, besides just how fast Night Furies' reflexes were, so they would be shot even if they managed to strike first.

The brutes lowered their spears, and the dragoness let her fire die out in turn. "Then what are you here for?" asked one brute, while the other stared suspiciously.

"Searching for a place to settle down. We were travelling a lot, but we can't do this forever."

The talkative brute raised an eyebrow. "Not in one of those grand southerner cities?" Eret shook his head and scoffed.

"And be only another number on a ledger? Thank you very much, I prefer smaller communities."

The brute's eyes very visibly diverted to the Night Fury at his side, then back to him. "You've gotta talk with the chief. Don't move from there if you want any chance; we'll come down to lead you there."

A few minutes later, the brutes appeared from behind them, winded from the trek through no doubt rough terrain, but putting up stern faces and waving their spears at them. They complied and moved forward down through the canyon to its widest point, where the settlement stood.

Around three dozen grim faces turned towards them as they moved towards the upturned ship, people looking out of their tents and from around bonfires that looked like insects around a hulking man surrounding them.

Finally, they reached the sail covering the entrance to the upturned barbaric warship. Eret couldn't help but be drawn to her; sturdy wood, a cruel iron ram on the bow, shields lining the side even now, after her history of no doubt extensive fighting ended, just enough nails to keep the ship together and no more, numerous scratches, deep and shallow; an image of a hardy ship that exceeded its capabilities to provide for its crew, now serving as their new, permanent home. A worthy end.

"Hey! Are you coming?" Eret startled and turned to see annoyed guards and a disoriented dragoness. Right, he had got distracted.

"Right, sorry, just this ship..." He scratched the back of his neck, feeling stupid but refusing to lower his gaze.

The guard that had stayed silent until now huffed and smiled, showing yellow and broken teeth. "Yeah, she was amazing. For what we could scrounge up to make her, anyway."

The mood lightened; people of the sea could easily sense each other, regardless of where they hailed from, and some customs were all-permeating, like believing ships have a soul. And they do, regardless of how some priests or scholars may scoff at the notion!

The dragoness was out of the loop though and just eyed the sail-covered entrance inquisitively, then him. "Ah, right." Eret gestured to her while looking at the now much more friendly guards. "I suppose she has to stay out, so just don't bother her and she won't do anything." He raised his voice for the second half so everyone could hear him. Some shuffling and nods told him that they understood, and he raised the flap working as a ship door, tentative but bold. No one stopped him.

And it was clear why soon; it wasn't just their leader's home but a residence for the sick, young and injured as well. Two children ran amok until one of five injured waved them towards him. Eret carefully moved to the back of the ship and forced himself to step through the curtain with an actual, if messy, embroidery, with forced confidence. Behind it was a pretty small room; a desk, bunk, chair and a chest composed the spartan furnishings.

And behind the desk, in the chair, sat a behemoth of a man.

As wide as some people were tall, needing to avert his eyes only slightly, if at all, to look Eret in the eye despite sitting, the chief wore scale armour, as ragged as those of his subjects, and sported a grey, iron helmet, instead of one made of dragon steel that was pretty much the standard for anyone above a basic grunt nowadays, with a long, thin horn sticking out of each side.

He reminded Eret of another man he feared so deeply.

He was also getting up, towering over him, raising an eyebrow and speaking, which Eret caught himself not listening to at first, too caught up in the impression.

"—you doing here?"

"I am looking for a place to settle down." It came out more as a question, confidence lost somewhere along with confusion and intimidation. The chief snorted.

"There is only one reason you would do it here, and it definitely isn't 'I don't want to be only another number on a ledger'; there are a lot of merrier small villages!" While the jest was genuine, the chief's eyes were hard, suspicious things. Eret faintly noted that information spread quickly through this place.

"I... need to..."

The chief rolled his eyes. "Hide somewhere, wait 'til something blows over, correct?" Eret nodded mutely. The chief leaned back, the chair creaking under his no doubt painful weight.

"Yeah, I thought as much." The chief folded his arms.

Eret shook his head. "Isn't this one of the places in which not many questions are asked?"

The man was unfazed. "I don't care if you stole sweetroll and the guards joke about it to no end, and it was in a hell-hole of a city that will kill you for it. But I won't have rapists or murderers in this village; I left all of that vermin behind with the Berserkers for a reason."

Eret's face turned red. "I am not a rapist!"

An eyebrow only went higher on the unimpressed, infuriatingly bored face. "And how do I know that?"

Eret fumed but had no choice other than to reply. Or storm away, but that wouldn't do him any good. And that's assuming that they would even let him go. "I deserted from a mercenary group." Then couldn't resist adding, "Happy?"

The chief's eyes narrowed. "No, in fact, not. Why would I trust a deserter to help out, whatever happens?" Eret inhaled, but the chief was faster. "Just tell me why you deserted and from whom."

Eret simmered for a few long seconds before responding. "They kept slaves, treated them like animals. Wanted to—to breed them." Eret's hands curled into fists that subsequently shook in fury. He felt a rant threatening to spring from his tongue.

The chief smiled wide and clasped his hands on his shoulders. "Well, with that out of the way, I suppose it's time for proper introductions!"

He took a step back and extended his hand. Eret clasped it. "My name is Eret."

The chief smiled, showing an array of crooked, yellow teeth. "Mine is Alvin. Nice to meet you."