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"Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters."

― Rick Riordan

Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy the chapter :))

Part 1 - Chapter Five

"The Panicked Little Dragon"

Astraeus wakes up to warm, gentle hands picking him up.

The touch doesn't hurt but years of experience with heavy hits and cold fists make him panic.

The hatchling snarls and hisses his warning—a pitched sound that twists with his fear. Frantically squirming, he tries to kick and scratch his way out but it's useless. His claws are too dull to even break skin and something's holding one of his legs to his chest.

It doesn't matter to the little dragon that they had been holding him properly or were mindful of his wings as they raised him from his sleeping spot. It doesn't matter because they still picked him up, they're still dangerous.

Hands are still around him, still not letting go.

He knows what happens when there's fingers on either side of his ribcage, he knows what happens when there's thumbs at the base of his skull and a palm over his wings.

He knows it'll hurt when they squeeze, when the panic pairs with pain.

He knows the inevitable.

The hatchling cries out again as the hands put him down onto something. It's unsteady, like it's built out of a bunch of different pieces, and seemed to be a bunch of soft things layered over on top of one another—as soon as Stray discovered this, he immediately buried himself into it.

With his whole body covered and having dug himself to the bottom, the little dragon settles himself down as small and as flat as he could.

Then, he froze, heart thudding loudly in his chest.

It was a bit further to the true floor than he had thought but even though his instincts were reassured that somewhere as dark and warm as he currently was is safe, he wasn't.

The hands let him go into the soft things on purpose.

Stray was no fool, he's aware that unless they let him go, he wouldn't have gotten out. They were far bigger and far stronger than him. They had been gentle but gentleness didn't last.

The touch will hurt at some point even if it didn't then.

The touch will hurt because touch always hurts.

Why would this time be different? Why would it matter that they were trying not to be rough, why did they let him go when he's still trapped? They probably know exactly where he is. They know he's somewhere under all that soft stuff.

They know, so why bother waiting?

They'll easily be able to properly trap—to hurt—him and do whatever they want.

He's already trapped, he's under where they wanted him to be. He's hidden from their sight but not from their minds. This isn't safety, this is just safer.

He's trapped, trapped, trapped.

The fuzziness from his blaring instincts crash against his coherent thoughts—wailing for something that he knows won't be given to him. No without consequences, not without a price.

He knows that whoever is up there doesn't want to help him.

He knows that even if he wants someone warm to care about and protect him, that no one else wants that.

The hatchling isn't delusional. Logically, he knows to be scared. He knows that past the foggy memories of a lovely nest and gleaming red scales, he's in the home of a stranger. That they can't be trusted—dragon or not.

But like the stupid baby dragon that he was, Stray really wanted to ignore that.

His instincts were clawing for control, pushing him to climb back up towards where he had received the reassuring grumbles and the promise of safety. It made him want to call out for the big, red dragon and it wanted the sparks and the smoke and the protection.

It wanted to ignore the leftover terror from before.

But the little dragon didn't.

Stray remembered the storm, the way his heart pounded until it hurt, the slamming door and booming thunder. He remembered leaving both the rocks and the food, he remembered the red eyes that stared up at him.

He remembered the hands that had wrapped around him, that had pulled him off of that shelf. He remembered being so scared by being so close to escaping yet so far away.

He didn't remember much else but it was enough.

The hatchling knows that he must still be with the witch—or at least the witch's house. It smells the same, a bit like herbs and earth and iron, and he didn't remember being moved. The witch and their familiars' magic twisted around him, built into layers palpable in the air.

The hum of wards are too familiar for him to be anywhere but the shop.

They successfully caught him. They hadn't just thrown him outside, they've trapped him. But why?

The witch is plenty powerful on their own with their phoenix familiar and the unknown; they could easily be a king or overthrow one if they so wished. They don't want that, though. They seem happy with their little shop and the flowers they grow out front.

And if it isn't power that any of them want, it has to be something more—so where's the cold, metal cage? The freezing chains, the ropes and collars and muzzle?

Why bother putting him into a nest, putting him somewhere warm? Why did they show him to the big dragon and why had they insisted that he is safe when that's not true? Was it to intimidate him, show him that this was someone else's coven? Someone else's territory?

Was it to trick him—but what would be the point?

Why would they bother tricking him when the hatchling has nothing left to give?

"Little one," the dragon, the one who held him, rumbled down at Stray. Maybe he got bored waiting for him to climb up on his own but at least he was kind enough to give the little dragon enough time to calm down. "S'alright if you're scared but ya can't stay down there. We have to check on your leg."

His... leg?

As he's looking down at the lame leg strapped to his chest by something, Stray's a little embarrassed to say he didn't notice that before.

It's his hurt leg, though—moving it. He doesn't know why they would want to see that.

Maybe to hurt him more? What would the point be? He can't use it anyways but people, they—sometimes, him being in pain was fun for others. They lived to see him squirm.

They liked him to be in pain. Maybe these people weren't different, maybe—

You're okay, runt, the big dragon rumbles down at him, almost making him flinch. It's safe here. You're safe, nothing will get you.

It makes half of him relieved and the other half want to cry.

He doesn't know if he should trust it, if he should trust his instincts.

Safe-safe-safe, is growled down to him. Protected-safe. Scared? Hurt?

Scared-scared-sca—Stray snarled silently at himself, paw bapping at his own snout as he shoves his face into another soft thing. He thinks this one is a pillow or something.

His new silence must've been taken as bad, though, because the big dragon sounds a little panic as he snuffles out, Runt? Hurt? Runt?

At the continued silence, there's a bit of weight moved and the sound of shuffling.

Stray's confused for a second before he realized that the giant dragon is taking apart the nest to get to him, a new shot of panic piercing his lungs.

Stop, stop, sorry-sorry-sorry, the baby dragon cried, curling tighter as the darkness ebbed a little. Sorry! Bad-bad, didn't mean to, sorry!

It's okay, it's okay, they soothe, a deep chuff echoing their words. Runt safe? Runt not hurt?

Scared, scared, Stray warbles, whining high in his throat. His throat is sore from making so much more noise than usual and his limbs hurt, throbbing on one of his wings and his lame leg calls his attention. It's not the worst injuries he's had before but it is uncomfortable. Hurt, confused-scared, hurt. Scared, scared, sorry!

The big dragon gave a snort and firm snort, a come here, and it made the hatchling whine again.

He didn't want someone to grab him again.

He didn't want to be trapped anymore.

He was doing so good by himself! He was alone for months and he survived, he managed to be free. It was miserable and he was in pain for most of it but still. Still, he was alone. Still, he survived.

Now this big dragon, now this witch and their familiars, are ruining that.

They've caught him and just because there isn't a cage now doesn't mean there won't be one in the future.

Come here, the giant dragon repeated. It's safe. You're alright, runt. Safe-safe-safe. I just want to help. Safe-protected. Come here?

Scared, Stray growls, hiding himself further into the pillow. He's pretty sure he couldn't get out even if he wanted, his tail and horns are tangled into something. Scared-scared, hurt. I can't. I can't.

They paused for a moment. Can I get you out?

No! No! Bad-bad, hurts! The hatchling cries, claws digging into the pillows as he freezes again, knowing what comes with touch. Scared, scared-scared! Sorry, sorry, sorry! No!

You're okay, runt, the big dragon rumbles at him, comforting cuffs echoing in the space around him. A shuffle, the strong smell of magic—then the gleam of red scales shines in through a thin blanket and Stray wails. I won't hurt you. It's okay. Safe-protected-safe. I promise I won't hurt you.

Worse promises have been broken.

Hurts! The baby dragon cries out, instincts winning over as he flaps his wings to try and signal that 'here! here is where I am!' before he calls out: Help! Stuck, scared! Scared-scared-scared!

A deep chuff comes with the snout as the big dragon moves the blankets out of the way, easily untangling Stray from them. Next, he scoops the baby's tail in between his teeth and gently pulls the youngling out from his hiding spot.

The little dragon leans up, hooking his wings into the edge of the other's jaw to right himself. The nest is fixed but he's not put back into it, which is really scary.

Stray whines, trying to pull himself closer as a soft growl answers back.

Everything's really bright up here but it also smells weird. Less like the big dragon and more like the coven. It's not bad but he isn't used to staying in the shop long enough that the smell rubs off on him too.

Strangely, only the iron scent clings to him. The smell of the dragon and the weird familiar. He'd focus on it more if his heart wasn't going so fast.

The room they're in with the nest is really big, it doesn't have any windows but it has good light regardless. It's clearly divided into two—one side where Stray had been and the other with hardwood floors and couches.

Did this dragon not want the coven in the nest? Were they not safe?

That wouldn't make sense, though. They must be safe if they're allowed so close to the nest. Nothing and no one nears without a fight or without being allowed—in most cases, proximity to a nest means death in one way or another.

As the hatchling's carried away from the nest, the big dragon moving slow enough to sway the little one from side to side, he stared at the door frame.

He doesn't think they'll fit like this.

The room's at least twenty feet tall and the giant dragon's head almost touches it even as slouched as they are but the doors are probably half of that.

It's a weird design, none of the other homes he's broken into has had something like this before, but he's not one to judge. If someone's been good enough to get their own home, they can do whatever they want with it.

Point is that the big dragon isn't getting through that and they seem to just be realizing that, too.

Runt, they growl and he squeaks back. I'm going to... turn back. Is that alright?

Turn back? The hatchling snuffles. What's turn back? Is it bad-bad? Safe?

Safe-safe-safe, protected, the big dragon reassures. Turn from four legs to two. Can you do that?

Oh! They're talking about their person form!

Not hurt, Stray informs, just in case they don't know. He lightly butts his little horns into the side of their jaw. You can't do it hurt. That's bad-bad, no. Hurt?

No, they shake their head, a short huff makes them seem a little relieved. Can I still hold you after, runt? I won't hurt you. Safe-safe-protected. Safe, you're safe with me.

With a small hesitant growl of agreement, the big dragon sits back down and gently places Stray onto one of the couches, which instantly steals his attention. The leather is cold and smells a lot like the witch when he gives it a tentative sniff.

While the witch's scent isn't bad, it makes him sneeze, which then makes him go tumbling right off the edge.

Warm hands are grabbing him before he can hit the ground and Stray cries out in a panic as he struggles to get away—stilling when a smooth rumble reassures him that it's only the big dragon and that he's safe.

As they gently move the hatchling into a better position, held up against the heat of their chest, the little dragon stares up at them, perplexed.

He doesn't know how he didn't piece together that the mystery familiar was the dragon.

Since he's close enough with his head against their collarbones and the rest of his bone cradled in a single hand, which left him with probably far too much access to the other, Stray slowly raises a paw and baps them in the jaw.

He rests his foot there, his claws being retracted, and just stares.

Red eyes stare back at him as the big dragon turns to look at him, still walking.

The color is a bit darker than the hatchling remembers their scales to be but no less pretty. It's almost like the apples that the tree he lived in last summer grew. They still have a face that says I'm mad but their eyes are kind; their magic gentle.

Stray hasn't met a lot of people with kind eyes but the ones he has haven't hurt him.

None of them have been dragons before.

None of them have promised not to hurt him, have reassured him that they'll protect him.

"Are you okay, little one?" The big dragon asks, tilting their head down to have a better look at the hatchling. He keeps his paw on their jaw and gives a small squeak, a yes. "Alright. Then what are you doin', runt?"

Curious, Stray thumps his tail against their hand with a small growl.

He tries to raise his other front leg, fails, and looks back down at the thing wrapped around him. Grumbling unhappily, he lowers the one pressed against the familiar's face to lightly tap the white cloth.

"Nuh uh, hatchling," they scold. Using a single finger, they push his front leg into a resting position, away from the lame one. "Don't mess with that, it's helpin' you."

Stray doubts that.

For one, it's not doing anything and it doesn't smell like magic either so it's not enchanted. For another thing, all it's doing is making him be down a limb and slightly squished.

Besides, why would the bigger dragon want to help with his broken leg?

He hasn't done anything to get treatment.

By now, he knows what to expect. He knows what he deserves—nothing without earning it, nothing without consequences, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Staying silent—besides a disbelieving little huff—the hatchling just turns his head away from the red eyes staring at him and watches where the intimidating familiar is taking him.

As they walk through the hallway, the buzz of the wards dips and shifts slightly, more to accommodate the seemingly too-big structure of the building they're in. It's odd but nothing the little dragon hasn't experienced before. Lots of witches had wards in their home.

Most of them hurt, though. These wards didn't hurt.

Stray wondered if that's because he had grown used to them after sneaking into the shop for so long—he didn't remember if they hurt back then, everything's kind of a blur and everything hurt when he first escaped—or if they simply weren't meant to hurt people.

That didn't make much sense, though.

Why wouldn't a witch not want their wards to hurt, to show off their power?

The last building he had been in that a witch, or witches, owned were far from good experiences. Their magic was always grating, always pushing and pulling. When he didn't give part of his own magic up, they would reach into him and take it.

These wards didn't do that. This witch hadn't either. The familiars haven't hurt him.

Stray didn't understand this place—or why there were just so many doors when he knew there were only three members to this coven. The witch, the phoenix, and the mystery.

No, the hatchling thought, not a mystery.

A dragon.

Dully, as the little one watched the other open up a door, he realized how tired he was. It was a bit frustrating, because he knew he must've been asleep for a while and had actually gotten more than a couple hours of shut eye.

He didn't even do much and yet here he is, tired.

It makes him feel... lazy, almost.

What gives him a right to be tired? What did he do to deserve this safety, this comfort, and be allowed to sleep? What gave him a right to want more?

What's wrong with him that he's just okay with taking?

That's what the other witches said was his problem. That he takes, takes, takes and never gives. That he wants too much and doesn't provide enough. That he's weak but he's not allowed to be weak so they have to make him strong.

The big dragon rumbles at him, all soothing and soft when he brushes a finger down his freshly raised spikes. The warmth feels nice and Stray's disgusted with himself for liking it.

He's not allowed to want.

"You okay, runt?" They ask, big hands holding him a little closer as they move through the room. Stray just huffs at him, neither a yes or a no, and takes to looking around the room.

It wasn't too big but it had a lot of stuff in it—small beds to one side and cabinets full of stuff on the other, large windows above a row of shelves at the far wall and another door.

It smelled like echinacea, lavender, and something a bit minty.

There were a bunch of plants on the tables and shiny things, too. Stray didn't know what they all were.

To the side, there's three bowls full of small-ish rocks. It's... the ones that he has given them. The ones he traded out for the dried meat and berries. He knew it wasn't truly enough but it was all he could give

And they kept them. They actually kept them.

This information has no right to make him happy.

"Alright," the big dragon says, pulling his attention to red eyes instead of the rocks. "I'm goin' to set you down on one of the beds, okay? I have to grab somethin' and I can't do that with only one hand."

Stray nods and sure enough, they round the end of the very last bed and he's getting moved to the top of it only a couple seconds later.

They're gentle as they set him down on the cover, making sure to put him on his uninjured side and being mindful of his wings. The hatchling wouldn't have been nearly as careful with himself as they're being.

Maybe it's because they're so strong? Maybe they just have to be really, really careful with things or they'll break it. And others.

He's met super strong people before.

They weren't very careful, though.

"There," the familiar says, deep voice echoing off the walls a bit. "Don't move too much, I don't want you fallin'."

Giving a small squeak of agreement, the hatchling stares up at the big dragon and simply watches the other as they stare back before cautiously going to one of the cabinets. He's a little worried about what the other is grabbing but not worried enough to try escaping.

Honestly, a little part of him wants to see if this promise of safety is one that will be kept.

Since it's a little uncomfortable to be laying down, the little dragon shifts to sit up. Once he's doing so, a light shiver racks through his body, not liking the chill in the air that the other had protected them from beforehand.

It's okay though, Stray knows. Being cold, barely cold at that, won't hurt him.

He's lived out in the snow for awhile now. His body might not be used to it, even after all this time, and it might be uncomfortable, but it won't kill him.

It won't kill him and that's all that matters.

Hesitating, the little dragon makes sure that the other is still focused on grabbing stuff before stretching his wings out and shaking them a bit.

They got sore easily and having flown the way he had proved so.

Stray grumbled unhappily to himself as he tucked them back against himself and stood up to stretch his body out properly. Nothing hurt as much as he expected it to, which is nice but a bit suspicious.

He never healed this quickly in the past. How long had he been asleep for?

As he settled back down, the rustling of the blankets made the scents shift around and he caught the faint lingering of the witch against them.

"Got everythin' that we should need." The big dragon turned back to him and Stray blinked at the sheer amount of just... stuff that was in their arms. "This shouldn't take too long. Had help last time, though, but it'll be alright. I'm a pro at this."

If he could, the hatchling would've raised an eyebrow at them but as it is, all he can manage is a dubious tail flick.

The big dragon caught it and pursed their lips.

"I know what I'm doin', runt." They said, slowly walking back over. "You shouldn't be doubtin' me."

Part of the baby dragon wanted to back away and find somewhere to hide, but the other part was twice as stubborn as they were scared and really wanted to figure out what was going on.

So the hatchling just huffs and pushes himself to stand again, moving slightly out of the way so the other can set down whatever it is they've collected.

"Thanks," they grunt out, laying it all on the covers to the side.

Stray's curious, he really wants to look at what it all is, but he doesn't know the rules here. Is he allowed to touch it? Is he not? Can he ask or would that be too annoying?

"I'm going to be explainin' as I go, alright?" The big dragon said, gesturing to the things as he spoke. "Can you lay on your back?"

Instantly hit with a bad memory, Stray bristled, spikes flaring up as his claws sink into the blanket below him. A low, fearful hiss escaped him as he glared up at the big dragon.

Being on his back means that he's vulnerable.

He can get hurt easier, he gets grabbed and kicked and tossed around. Once he's off his legs, once his wings are pinned underneath him, that's game over.

He can barely fight back like that.

All his instincts cry out that he's safe with the ancient dragon but he knows better. Stray's so confused and he wants this warmth but what will it cost him? What's this safety worth? What's this trust worth?

Just because they're a dragon and they've made a promise doesn't mean anything.

They can tear him up or wear him down just as easily as a witch can.

Calm, runt, the big dragon growls low in his throat, a chuff shaking the sound. It's okay, you're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you. Safe-safe-safe.

Stray hisses again, hunching into himself. Scared-scared, upset. Too close.

It's alright, they huff and then switch to words. "I'm not goin' to hurt you, I promise. I asked because I wanted t'get the wrap off of you, nothin' more."

The hatchling digs his claws in further, untrusting.

They haven't hurt him yet but that doesn't mean they won't.

The other witch started out nice. The other witch made promises. What if they're just going to pretend now and hurt him later? What if it's wraps today and chains tomorrow? A nest now but a cage later?

When will the kindness end?

Stray's so scared of that—of the when. He doesn't want to go back to the cold, to being hurt, to the poor sleep and not enough food and wariness.

He wants the heat and the rumbles and the pile of soft things. He wants to learn. He wants to be protected. He wants to stay here, he wants to believe it's safe, he wants to be with another dragon.

But he can't trust it—especially not when his instincts are being all weird.

He's young but he's not stupid.

"How about this," they say when they realize Stray's not budging, "you let me take care of your leg and I'll tell you a story. If I do anything you don't like, you can bite me and I won't get mad."

They... won't get mad? Even if the hatchling bites them?

Safe? The little dragon questions, heart slowing in his chest just a bit.

The familiar nods. Safe. Protected-safe. Mine. I won't hurt you.

Promise? Foolishly, he asks.

Promise. The big dragon nods—and that's that.

With no small amount of hesitation, Stray lays on his back and lets them unwrap the weird thing. With it off, his leg aches a little bit, but it's much better than it was before. It probably was still broken after all.

As the familiar carefully looks at and moves his leg, they tell him what's going to be put in the wrap to help his bone heal.

Black agate, red cloves, and thyme are going to be placed into the folds—the ancient dragon shows him how it's done as he slowly wraps the baby back up. It's surprising when he's told that his leg should be healed completely in two days.

Apparently, they also did a small healing spell on him when they first caught him.

Something the hatchling is, honestly, terrified about.

Nothing good comes from witches using their magic on him. Nothing at all.

Helping the little dragon sit up, the familiar frowns at him when they feel how cold he's gotten since the both of them have left the nest. Stray still doesn't quite understand what the big deal is, even if cold is bad-bad.

They tsk and slowly stroke a finger down his head, the contrast between his chilled scales and their warmth making him shudder. "Why didn't ya say you were cold, runt?"

The hatchling didn't really know how to reply to that, how to explain that he's so used to it that he still doesn't understand why it's bad, so he simply mrped up at the big dragon and wiggled his head closer to them.

"Nothin' to say, hm?" They ask, hesitating only a second before reaching and picking him up again. Stray grunts unhappily at the sudden man-handling but doesn't stay grumpy because the other snuffles apologetically at him afterwards.

Getting placed against the familiar's chest, the little dragon rests his head above the other's heart, listening to the steady beat. The heat from their heartfire is warmer than the baby could ever hope to be and he couldn't help the way he melts against it, content to let it wash the chills away.

Being comfortable was a rare occurrence but the big dragon seems to be able to settle him easily—which is unfortunate, because being comfortable always makes him feel sleepy.

Stray doesn't want to be sleepy, though.

He wanted to find out what they were going to do to him, he wanted to know how long they planned to keep him, he wanted to talk more with the big dragon, he wanted to learn about this coven more. He wanted to know how much pain he had to prepare to be in.

He wanted to stay awake, to learn. To enjoy the warmth while he still could.

But his body didn't care about such desires.

Gently swaying side to side as the big dragon begins to walk, Stray finds it hard to stay aware and keep his eyes open and with the sound of a steady heartbeat and purr underneath his head—the hatchling falls asleep.