2 - 2

"Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We're so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone."

―Haruki Murakami

Hey guys! Part two is here and I hope you enjoy it. I love this one because it shows a bit more of the domestic nature of a lot of these relationships that I couldn't show in the first part because they were still getting to know each other and getting to be truly comfortable.

I always wanted to show more of a familial, loving relationship between a parent and a child, far too often it's a purely tyrannical or harsh bond, something negative. Or it's none-existent. As someone with a good dad a lot like Atlas (but far, far goofier), I wanted  to portray that.

Part Two - Chapter Two

"The Dragon's Half-Forgotten Witch"

Standing at the edge of the kitchen, Stray hesitates to enter, watching Athanasius make potato stew, his wings tucked away but his horns and tail staying out even in this form.

He's still too young (by about a decade) to hide his own dragonic features.

His dad just hides them, most days, for the pure convenience of it. To be quite honest, he can't wait to be capable to do the same. It willl make a lot so much easier—when traveling to different towns where the more magical creatures aren't too welcomed he won't have to wear a disguise, he won't have to struggle to fit in, and he'll be a lot less elegant when swimming.

"I can feel you lurkin', Aster," his protector grumbles, tilting his head back just a bit to look at him as he jumps. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the golden dragon shuffles awkwardly. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" Atlas shifts to face him fully now, worry evident in the pinch of his brows. He turns the burner down and puts a lid on the pot, steam quickly clouding the surface. He moves to lean against the counter, gesturing the youngling over.

Stray dutifully goes to him, sliding himself easily into his dad's arms, tails winding together. He feels some of the tension leak from his shoulders but the frown over his lips stays.

Love-love-love, mine, gets rumbled at him. Safe-yes-good?

Safe-loved-safe, he growls low in his throat. Yours-yours-yours.

"C'mon, treasure," his dad murmurs, resting his chin on his head, mindful of his horns. Safe-protected-safe. "You've been distracted for a while now and it's not that I mind it, but I get worried when I wake up and yer right there, lookin' more tired everyday. Tell me what's goin' on."

Confused-concerned, the youngling whines, wiggling closer. "M'just—I'm having these, these dreams and they're weird. Really fucking weird. I can't figure them out but I remember—"

He cuts himself off, choking on a sharp inhale.

Atlas' chuffs deepen, his hands soothingly rubbing over his wings. He whines again, hiding his face against the onslaught of comfort.

"I'm not goin' to judge ya for anythin' you say, love," his protector says, clutching him closer. "I just want to help, tell me as much as you want—or need—to."

"I know," Stray whispers, throat all tight, heart pounding. "Back there with, with my—the catchers." Atlas tenses underneath him and he's quick to purr a safe-safe-loved up at his dad. He knows how angry his coven gets at what happened. "There was this witch, I actually don't really know them, not even their face or what specifically they did. I don't have any memories of them until now, but they... they were kind to me."

Athanasius's silent for a moment. "And you're just remembering 'em now?"

"Yeah," he nods. "They were... I think they're my age. They were smaller than everyone else, though much bigger than me. I think—dad, I think they're the one who made me escape."

"They..." his protector's rumble stutters for a moment before coming back full force. "I thought you got out on your own?"

"I thought so too," he hugs his dad tighter, wings hunching up as the memory plays out in front of his eyes. "They kept me in a, uh, a fuckin' bird cage, it was really small so I-I couldn't move around much. And, well, and they had wards on it to keep me from getting out. A lock on the side so even if the magic failed or some shit, I couldn't leave."

Athanasius took a deep breath, anger stinging the golden dragon's nostrils the more he talked. It didn't scare him, though. He knew that no matter what happened, no one in the coven would hurt him.

Angry or not. Annoyed or not. They wouldn't.

"And they got you out?" There's a hiss to the red dragon's voice, a possessive shift in the way he's being held, and Stray purrs louder in response.

This conversation is difficult, it's why he hesitated to bring it up.

The comfort is nice. The possessiveness, the urge to keep him close and safe, is nice.

"I woke up, I think I just got a punishment or whatever," he shrugs, not wanting to go into detail. "The lock was... the lock was broken, the magic weaker than usual. I used to—all I used to remember was the broken lock, the door opening, the struggle to—the struggle to get out. Did I ever tell you that's how my leg broke? It hurt. But now I just, I-I don't know. There was those things but now their face on the other side of the cage, they're trying to take down the wards so I don't get hurt but they're so young, dad, and—and people are coming, they're going to hurt the both of us because we're, we're doing something bad and we're not supposed to be. We're never supposed to be." His breath hitches. "And—I get out, I got out but we were supposed to do it together."

He snuffles, upset, feeling the way his claws edged out.

"Stray—"

"We were supposed to do it together because, because we—we had to, we needed each other but I-I can't, I can't remember why they cou-couldn't, they couldn't leave with me. I can't remember why they couldn't leave with me," he gasps. "They were gone. I was—I was all alone and, and I didn't even remember them! How could I, how could I not have remembered them?"

"Shh, sh, treasure," Atlas pulled him closer, resting them together until the youngling's ear was over his heart—the beat strong and steady. He gasped again, throat aching. "You need to breathe, okay? Can you follow along with me?"

Stray gives a shaky nod, gasping breaths trying to match his dad's inhales.

The youngling breathes in as the red dragon runs his hands up his wings, exhaling shakily as he brings them back down, whole body trembling slightly even as the panic starts to fade away.

They stay like that for a while, only breaking apart when the stew starts to bubble and boil, him silently crying except for the occasional sniffle.

Atlas pulls away just enough to see his face, raising an eyebrow. The golden dragon nods, loosening his hold from where he had his fists clenched into the other's shirt. He steps back, wings tucking around himself, as his dad goes to stir the stew and turns off the stove before returning to him.

Stray falls back into the hug, breathing easier even with the way his lungs seem to burn and how air feels coarse against his throat.

He wonders, not for the first time, how much of his past he actually knows.

How much of it is real—if any of it is.

"It's not your fault," his dad says once their arms are back around each other. Stray looks up, eyes stinging with tears still, blue to red. "You were goin' through so much, runt, it's normal not to remember traumatic things. You said they were kind... even if you couldn't escape with 'em, I'm sure they're happy you still escaped, love."

"It doesn't—feel like me just not remembering, though," the golden dragon grumbled. "It feels like something is just, missing? Fuck, I don't know. This feels like it was on purpose instead of just me not knowing. I don't know why they didn't get out with me but even if they're happy I left, I'm not happy they stayed."

"I know," Athanasius said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. "Do you want to find 'em or somethin'? I didn't see a kid when I, uh, paid them a visit. I'm sure we can find out where they went, Ras' great at trackin' people down."

"Can we?" Stray asks, wiping the tears from his eyes as he pulls back to stare at the familiar. "Oh, please, can we try to find out more?"

"Of course," his protector shrugs, feigning casualness even after all these years of the youngling knowing he's a softie. "S'not like I have anthin' better to do."

"Thank you," he says, heart finally calming down.

"Anythin' for you, love," Atlas kisses his forehead.