Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time there was a normally kind and gentle Prince. Attractive even as a child, handsome beyond measure and the only surviving offspring of the wise King Eric, the Prince was set to have a glorious future. He was beloved by the whole palace despite his occasional rudeness and uncouth manners, so contradictory to his normal behaviour. Many whispered this stemmed from his lack of a mother, the Queen having died in childbirth.

He grew up to be a reserved young man, sticking close to his father and preferring to use his free time reading about the land he was destined to rule over than actually seeing the land himself. As with everyone in the Kingdom, he rejoiced when the King declared his intention to marry again, welcoming the woman who was to be his step mother into the castle.

Alas, the happiness that was created with the marriage was not to last and within six months, King Eric was in his grave, long before his time. The whole of the kingdom was thrown into mourning and none more so than the fatherless Prince Virgil and his dearly beloved Queen. There could be little time for the luxury of grief however, not with the kingdom lacking a ruler. And so, with the tragic early death of his father, he began to prepare for his own reign with increasing determination. He was still too young to become King in his own right, and the Queen took on the burden till such time as he was deemed old and wise enough to rule, making sure that his wishes were heard throughout. He was perhaps, not the wisest of Princes, with some saying that he would need more aid even upon attaining his majority. A few even whispered that the sudden death of his father had unhinged him in some way although those that were caught spreading such evil rumours were instantly confined to the dungeons.

On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, the day before he was due to assume personal rule of the land, disaster struck.

A large black dragon descended like a fury upon the kingdom, raining fire and terror upon the castle and the surrounding houses. The roof of the great hall was ripped off by pale shining claws that glinted in the flickering candlelight. Fire licked the many thatched buildings, roof after roof going up in flame. The roars of the beast were terrifying to hear, as though the beast had been driven mad by some unknown cause. When the dust settled, the dragon had vanished as quickly as it had first appeared, leaving a partially ruined town to struggle to come to terms with the unprovoked attack.

The Prince had vanished too. Swept up in claws and teeth, dragged away by the fiend to be imprisoned in some tower somewhere, a living trophy for the disgusting beast.

They could not offer the hand of the Prince as a reward for rescuing him, as he was already promised to another, the son of his father's second wife. The two had first met at the funeral of the late King, and by all accounts, a fairytale romance had blossomed between them, a love at first sight that seemed all the more painful when the cruel fate of Prince Virgil was discussed.

They could however, offer a Prince’s ransom in gold, and the promise of becoming the Right Hand to the throne of the brave knight that rescued him.

Whatever it took, to bring the Prince home, to the arms of his betrothed. Without the Prince, there could be no King and although the Queen Mother reluctantly and dutifully shouldered the burden of continuing as regent until his return, there was no question of her son ascending the throne alone. Patton, for all that he was the son of a Queen and husband to be of the Prince, was only of noble blood, not the blood royal.

The whole Kingdom yearned for its Prince to be restored to them, for the quiet Prince Virgil to be freed from the evil claws of the dragon, wherever it had taken him.

Many loyal knights set off in search of the noble and handsome Prince, scouring the countryside far and wide. Few returned and those that did eventually stagger back to the castle always came back empty handed, their whole quest wiped from their memory with no evidence they had even located the dragon, let alone done battle with it.

Despite every setback however, they refused to give up hope that he would be found. Everyone knew that evil could not hope to win forever and that there would come a day when the prince would be freed from his imprisonment, wherever he might be held, and return home. When he would wed the love of his life, take the throne and with the Queen as his principal adviser, and live happily ever after.

At least, that, is how the Queen Mother recorded the tale, ordering that it be posted to the furthest reaches of the kingdom, in the hope that someone, somewhere, would hear the tale and be able to offer some insight into the location of the lost prince.

--

If you could actually track down Prince Virgil and his ‘kidnapper' they would recount a very different version of events.

--

Once upon a time, there lived a painfully shy and anxious Prince, who wanted nothing more than to be a good ruler - albeit preferably without having to actually talk to anyone, make any public speeches or do anything else that required having to actually interact with other people, too much pressure no. He was happiest in his study, watching the world go by and learning everything and anything he could.

He tried to live up to his father’s wishes as best he could, but day by day he was painfully aware of how much he failed in that regard. Of how far he still had to travel if he could hope to ever match his father. He needed to become braver, bolder, wiser. There was so much left he had to learn and the sheer list sometimes overwhelmed him. Not even the actual topics themselves, just the amount. No matter how many times his father told him it didn’t matter, and that he still had many years in which to grow into the man he knew he would become, Virgil couldn’t help but feel as if he was on a much shorter time limit, that he needed to improve and fast. Instead, he remained the same anxiety ridden boy who was not yet ready to rule.

And then his father died and he was proven right. His father’s untimely death when Virgil was only twelve after a mere six months of marriage to his second wife was the start of years of misery for him. It happened so gradually that he wasn't aware of what was even going on until it was far too late.

Things changed when the Queen took control of the castle, the odd shift in staff the first hint that things were not as they had been. Many of the old staff, men and women he had known for years, were fired, replaced by those of the Queen’s choosing. An old woman was welcomed into the Castle, and given the role of personal cook to the Queen - although Virgil never saw her actually make anything, he would quite often smell things from her room, foul scented concoctions that made him glad she wasn’t his cook.

Any time he expressed an interest in a place, subject or a person, something would happen to remove the chance to spend time with them or go there. Gradually, over time, Virgil learnt to stop asking, to stop looking out for experiences beyond the walls of the castle, for conversations beyond the approved limits of the Queen Mother.

He became almost completely isolated from the outer world, barely setting foot out of the castle for years. While Virgil would have previously considered that the best thing that could have happened to him, he knew that it wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. As much as he hated the role that he had been born into, he was too dedicated to simply abandon it. How could he hope to one day rule on his own merit when he knew so little about ruling, about government or his people? His tutors were replaced by nominees of the Queen Mother’s choosing, men who seemed to care little for the task of changing a nervous teenager into a man fit to rule and more focused on ingratiating themselves in with the Queen Mother, by attempting to convince Virgil that he should listen to her in all things, that she was only looking out for him and the kingdom as a whole.

His history tutor stopped teaching him about his own family history, about the men and women he was directly descended from and how they had helped shape policy directly. Instead it had been more about the people the rulers were surrounded by, or tales of the various regencies that had taken place, of mothers protecting children. His tutor of politics simply vanished, teaching one day and gone the next with the simple explanation that he would have no need of such a thing for many years to come and they didn’t want to tax him too much. It was for his own good, the Queen Mother cooed softly. After all, with her by his side and Patton on his arm, he wouldn’t need to learn everything at once, they could let his anxiety calm down first, could introduce him back to the topic bit by bit. And if he was never ready to learn properly, then it didn’t matter. His own sanity came first and Virgil hated how she twisted everything around, made it sound as though she was doing him a favour by removing people, topics, by making him dumber through inaction.

The less said about his new tutor of courtesy and courtly manners, the better. The woman seemed to have no thoughts in her mind beyond ‘always lead with the left foot’ or ‘a gentleman must always open a door for a lady.’ It was impossible to hold a conversation with her and in all honesty Virgil was a little afraid that she might be too good at her job and teach him too much. The idea that such things might be all he would care about, all he would be allowed to care about, with nothing to look forward to but more of the same… it was enough to create nightmares that would leave him shaking for hours.

The Queen Mother always waved away his concerns whenever he tried to express them, always promising that when he came of age an account would be made of all the decrees and decisions that had been made while he was a minor. He would have full power to do as he wished once he reached his majority. And should he still desire guidance, as it was only proper and right that he did, then she would always be on hand to aid him.

The way she promised she would be there to guide him made it sound more like a threat than anything else, something shivering in his soul, a warning that this would not be a choice she would give him.

His father would not have approved. Virgil knew that, knew that this was wrong somehow but he didn’t know how to change what was happening. The Queen Mother had eyes and spies everywhere in the castle. She knew of any potential rebellion before it could even become a fully fledged idea in anyone’s head. Virgil was told over and over again that it was his duty to listen to her, that he should listen to her in everything.

So much so, that as the years dragged on, he was starting to believe it.

If it hadn’t been for the one secret he had been able to keep, he probably would have eventually accepted the world as the Queen Mother was crafting around him, would have allowed her to become the power behind the throne as he one day realized she wanted.

During those long years, his only friend was the palace librarian’s assistant, a young man of similar age to the Prince, by the name of Logan, considered too insignificant for even the Queen to bother firing. Virgil had learnt by now that anyone he showed any marks of favour to would be removed from his life and so when he first met the quiet librarian he resolved to be quiet in turn and to somehow make - and keep - a friend.

Logan promised a route to a world he had not seen for so long. And access to so many books, to thoughts and conversations free of the malign influence. It helped that Logan seemed as social awkward as he was, that he didn’t understand the attempts at first for what they were, didn’t realise it was anything more than Virgil attempting to simply learn more, Logan prefering to keep to himself when not on duty.

Not even one as self contained as Logan however, was able to say no the Crown Prince. At first it had been a relationship of convenience, Logan simply letting Virgil talk to him as he wanted. Gradually, he had come to realise that despite the rumors slowly being passed around the castle as to the Princes mental incapacity, he was hardly the halfwit the stories painted him as. Instead, he came across as a serious, intelligent young man who wanted to talk about astronomy and the natural world, to name but two of the subjects they would endlessly debate.

Somehow, Virgil kept their friendship a secret. Logan was not the sort to seek out personal connections of any sort, and had in fact scorned attempts by others in the past who had tried to become his friend. It didn’t seem possible that the anxious Prince would succeed where charming, confident people had failed and so not as much notice was paid to their relationship as others had been in the past.

It was something of a surprise to everyone, Virgil included, when his betrothal to Patton was announced.

He liked Patton well enough, he supposed. In fact, he greatly suspected he would adore Patton given the chance - as a friend. Just as he suspected that the other teenager would feel the same way about him, if any feelings were allowed to develop. They never got to spend any real time together, were never left on their own and so their relationship stuttered along rather than grew into anything. Virgil saw enough of Patton to realise he was the complete opposite of his mother, that where the Queen was haughty and grasping for power, her son was kindness personified and more likely to be found in the kitchens trying to make friends with the cook over trying to one up the endless crowds of ambitions courtiers.

It didn’t help that he knew Logan harboured feelings for Patton and, so he suspected, Patton returned those feelings. It was hard not to suspect considering he had come across Patton doodling hearts on paper once or twice that most definitely did not have his initials inside. He didn’t mind. Logan was the closest person he had to family and Patton could have one day become the same if it wasn’t for his mother and so he wanted nothing but happiness for them both.

He constantly urged Logan to admit his feelings to Patton, trying to convince him that Patton felt the same and that it wasn’t forward for the librarian assistant to ask a Lord like Patton if he could possibly court him. Virgil couldn’t help but dream of the possibilities that could occur if the two of them got together.

Maybe if Patton and he came to the Queen Mother together, publicly, and both asked to be excused from their arranged marriage, she would have no choice but to agree. And if Virgil didn’t marry her son, maybe he would be able to shake free of her influence after he was crowned. He would keep Logan by his side as his science advisor, Patton would be given any job he wanted and maybe he could learn to be the kind of king he wanted to be with their help.

Virgil had taken to avoiding the library whenever Patton was visiting, so as not to bump into them or worse, drag any of the invisible eyes that still followed him into their - hopefully - budding romance.

He should have known that it was too good to last and that the Queen Mother would not let something as trivial as her son’s happiness get in the way of her ambition.

One morning, a few months before his birthday, he was summoned by his step mother, the Queen archly explaining that both the Librarian and his assistant had been caught plotting treason, trying to kidnap her son and flee with him as their hostage. Out of mercy, she had refrained from the death penalty but both had been exiled and transported to the furthest corners of the Kingdom. Virgil had been too stunned to do anything, mind going blank as he stood there, simply nodding once or twice before fleeing for the relative safety of his own chambers.

It wasn’t hard to work out what had really happened.

Patton had not been as subtle as Virgil. Patton, despite having the woman as his actual mother, still didn’t seem to understand the true depths of her character or how far she would go. Patton, locked himself in his room for days on end sobbing his heart out and Virgil didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t have any allies left in the Castle, nobody he could trust, nobody he could turn to in order to make things better. How was he ever going to find Logan?

A week later, he discovered the dragon in the dungeons.

Chapter Text

He was never supposed to go down to the dungeons, but something had called to him, compelling him to descend stone steps and creep into dimly lit cavernous rooms. Maybe he had hoped she had lied and some clue as to Logan’s location was actually under his nose. Instead, he had come across a real, fire breathing dragon. A dragon was dangerous, a dragon was everything Virgil should be afraid of. He should turn around and run as far and as fast as he could. But Virgil was of the blood royal. His family tree was littered with heroes. The founder of his line was supposedly descended from a dragon - Virgil didn’t believe it of course, found the whole thing fairly laughable really. As though they could be part dragon. His family were supposed to have magic running through their veins, stronger than the local village witches that were dotted around the kingdom. That, at least, was partly true. For all the other members of his family at least.

Virgil had never been able to do much more than light a torch, and none of the tutors hired had any real magical talent of their own. If he really possessed the power of his family, the power that was supposed to be in his blood, then he didn’t know how to actually access it.

His father had tried his best, had even set aside precious time every week to try and personally teach his son some of the ways of magic. Sometimes he would tell him stories of when he himself had been young and still learning. Virgil couldn’t help but notice despite that however, his father in those stories was still able to cast the sort of spells that Virgil could only dream of doing. He had seemed to have little trouble finding that spark inside of him and nurturing it into a wild flame. King Eric would take him to his private study during these lessons, would sit him down and Virgil would try, he would try so hard. All he wanted was to please him, to make him proud and yet no matter how much he wanted it, he could never seem to find his own powers.

The answer was there, his father always promised. The answer was inside of him and he would work it out sooner or later. There was always such a sad expression on his face whenever he said it though, as if he blamed himself for his son’s lack of ability. More likely it was simply sorrow and disgust at having such a weak son despite his love for him.

It was just another example of how he was failing his people. He was supposed to be able to face down a dragon, magic or no magic.

And this one had been beaten and was chained up.

It felt wrong, somehow, to see such a majestic creature brought so low. The dragon was as black as a moonless night, it’s scales almost incandescent in the flickering torchlight, Virgil instantly being struck by a strange desire to touch them. A thick collar was wrapped around its neck, a heavy looking chain connected to it and keeping the beast pinned to the ground, the length too short for it to do anything but lie there. More chains wrapped around its wings, keeping them pressed tightly against its body. To add insult to injury, a series of leather straps were wrapped around its snout to keep its jaws clamped shut. It looked like some kind of weird harness. Virgil supposed it was to stop it breathing fire and burning the whole place to the ground.

An intelligence burned brightly in those brown eyes. It was probably the lack of human contact, the sheer desperation for someone to talk to but those eyes reminded him of Logan and he missed Logan so very much. Virgil couldn’t help but instantly feel a connection between himself and this captive beast, for all that dragons were monsters in the eyes of the law. He understood only too well what it was like to be a prisoner, to be misunderstood, to be alone and have nobody else to turn to.

Cautiously, he took a few steps inside the large cell. The dragon didn’t even try and snarl at him, simply watched. Almost as though it trusted him not to do anything to hurt it further. Now that he was closer, he could make out all manner of cuts with dried blood and bruises littering the side of the majestic beast.

It had been beaten and from the looks of the injuries, beaten after it was chained up. Anger swelled up in him at that, fury that someone would be that cowardly, that pathetic. Defending yourself against an enemy was one thing, and there was nothing wrong in striking blows in that situation. But to beat on a creature after it had already been defeated, when it could do nothing but lie there and take the blows... that just wasn’t right.

Virgil didn’t care how evil dragons were supposed to be, or what crimes this one might have commited, nothing could justify this cruelty. If it was to be killed, then it should be outright killed, not hurt and left in agony for who knew how long.

As the days passed, he snuck down to the dungeon more and more, talking to it, pouring out his hopes and fears, his worry about his lost friend, almost as though it could understand him. Maybe it could. Nobody ever really took the time to study dragons as creatures in their own right, nobody ever asked questions of them, just assumed they were evil. This one didn’t seem evil. The dragon never tried to attack him or break free and in its own way, it seemed content enough to listen to his ramblings.

The constant staring was a bit creepy though, Virgil fidgeting and unable to meet its gaze head on. Sometimes it would get agitated at the mention of the name Logan, a couple of faint snorts and hisses escaping through the bindings digging into its flesh. Still, he wasn’t stupid enough to lower his guard completely, he never lowered his guard enough to relax within claw reach. The beast might be pinned, unable to fly or even move more than an inch either way, but he wasn’t going to just offer it a tempting target it might be unable to resist.

Nobody else ever seemed to come down here, as though they had either forgotten about the dragon or simply no longer cared about it now it was trapped. Virgil didn’t like where that train of thought led - had the Queen Mother really ordered it be left? For the beast to die a lingering death of starvation? He couldn’t just idly stand by and watch that happen, no matter what. He would covertly smuggle in what little food and medical supplies he could get his hands on without attracting attention.

All the energy he had used to spend on sneaking visits to Logan were now spent sneaking down to see his - the - dragon. The halter wrapped around its face was his first problem. Leather straps cut deep into its scaly skin, cutting through layers to leave its face marked and damaged. There was no way to remove it by hand and he wasn’t foolhardy enough to risk weilding a sharp blade that close to the dragon’s face. No matter the truce they seem to have created or the way it would behave around him, Virgil felt waving a blade around in front of it would almost certainly destroy the accord between them.

The other alternative was to undo some of the many chains wrapped around it so the dragon could lift a foot enough to use one of its own dangerously sharp talon like claws to cut the leather away itself. And there was no way Virgil was going to go anywhere near those.

So he adapted as best he could. The straps couldn’t be removed but he could rub oil all over them, could ease and sooth the inflamed skin as best to could. Virgil could coax a little bit of give to them, enough for him to be able to leave food and water in front of the dragon and allow it to eat. The speed in which it devoured the first meal he left for it only made the bad feeling in his stomach more intense, knowing that he had been right and it had been left in the dungeons to starve.

Bit by bit, he nursed the beast back to some semblance of health, although he didn’t really understand why he was doing it. It wasn’t as though the dragon could ever leave the dungeon. Some part of Virgil couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing, why he was showing mercy and pity to a monster. To something that would no doubt eat him given half a chance and had probably killed many before it had finally been overwhelmed and dragged down here. It no doubt deserved to die for its crimes.

For all he knew, there was a specific reason why it had been withheld food. Perhaps the Queen Mother needed it weakened in order to be able to kill it, or she needed it weak for some other reason. Perhaps she held a grudge against it for some unknown crime it had committed against her in the past and was now getting her revenge. Or perhaps she just delighted in making other things suffer. She certainly seemed to have no pity for the pain her only child was going through, no compassion for the pain Patton was in.

Time passed in little more than a blur, his days broken up by visiting the dragon, trying to comfort a still heartbroken Patton to no avail or researching potential places Logan could have been sent to, all while trying to dodge the many people spent to spy on him. It was a wonder his secrets hadn’t been discovered - or perhaps she believed his spirit had been broken by the removal of Logan.

In all honesty, that week between loosing Logan and finding the dragon, he had been broken. Virgil thought that might be why he was being kind to it. The dragon had given him some kind of purpose again, no matter how weird and twisted. It had given him a reason to struggle against the bonds of his own. A reason to keep fighting, had woken him up to realise he needed to help Patton, needed to bring his smile back.

All too soon however, the dreaded day dawned. His last day of any kind of freedom.

His birthday was tomorrow. Virgil knew he should be excited by it. His birthday technically meant he would achieve his majority, he could do as he liked. In theory, he could order Logan’s exile to be revoked and demand that he be returned to the Castle at once, so he could give his blessing for the union of Logan and Patton. Virgil knew he wouldn’t be able to actually do any of that of course. His power would be illusory at best, and he would be nothing but a puppet, unable to act against an entire court.

Any hope had vanished the same time Logan had from his life. There was no way out of the life that had been built for him. His collar and chains might be invisible but they were there as surely as the ones that bound his dragon friend. He was just swapping one cage for another, he knew once his birthday was over, the Queen would make sure he could never move on his own again. She would bind him in so many invisible chains, all for his own good, for the good of the Kingdom. All his efforts, all his struggles, in the end, had been for nothing.

He would marry Patton even though he knew neither of them actually wanted it. He would sit on a throne that had been host to so many great members of his family and he would bring shame upon his lineage as the Queen Mother moved her pieces around the giant chess board and did as she wanted.

After he was dead and dust, what would be his title for people to remember him through the ages? Virgil the Weak? Virgil the Puppet? Virgil the Unready? Virgil the Unworthy?

Or would it be worse. No title. No memory. Skipped over in the recital of his family, his rule ignored or discarded as a dark, useless time. Everything he was supposed to be would be twisted, tarnished or destroyed. Virgil didn’t know how to stop it. He couldn’t run away - nowhere to go, nowhere to hide where he wouldn’t be instantly recognized. He couldn’t demand the Queen Mother retire or be exiled or any of the wilder fantasies that had run through his mind. His power lay in his name alone and that was nothing without a foundation to build upon. She had uspered all of that and there was nothing left for him.

There was one last thing he could do however in this final day. One final little act of rebellion with nothing left to lose.

He could free the dragon.

Virgil hoped it could understand him, that it would understand what he was trying to do. It could so very easily kill him after all and maybe part of him was almost hoping for that. Death was about the only escape he could see, as much as he didn’t want to actually die.

He also had to hope that it would listen to his pleas and not attack any of his people - Virgil didn’t want anyone else to be hurt because of his actions but he couldn’t just leave it suffering any longer, not knowing he wouldn’t be able to look after it anymore. Patton had been sent to the countryside for a week, ostentatiously in order to recover from a ‘sickness’. Virgil knew there was only one cure for an aching heart and it wasn’t a change of scenery. He would be back in time for the ceremony, but by then, Virgil was sure the dragon would be long gone, back to whatever dragon hoard it had.

It was only fair, he had told the dragon as he started to unlock the chains, that one of them should be free.

It was the most foolhardy decision of his life and he knew it. Dragon’s were evil, greedy, sly creatures, everybody said so. They wrecked havoc wherever they went and just because he had begged it not to inflict pain on the people Virgil was sworn to rule over, didn’t mean it would listen. It could do whatever it liked once it was free and they both knew it.

The keys had been almost embarrassingly easy to find, left in the guard post with the guard himself asleep after several large toasts to ‘Prince Virgil’s health’. After retrieving that, it had just been a matter of creeping back to the large cave like cell that they were holding the beast in and working through the many locks. Chains fell away, each lock giving it more freedom and its whole form seemed to shudder a little as escape grew closer and closer.

With a resounding clang, the final chain trapping the dragon’s wings fell away, the beast turning slightly to stare at him directly. It looked at him - no, into him. Those deep brown eyes seemed to pin him in place, staring right into his soul, looking for something, although he didn’t know what.

Virgil’s eyes widened in response, the young Prince for a moment forgetting any fear of discovery or the potentially painful end in store for him as he stared in sheer wonder at the sight in front of him. The dragon shifted a little, pushing itself into a couch instead of lying down. It shook its head - Virgil still needed to somehow get the leather away from its jaws and he knew he should have done that first but he had yet to work out how to get around the whole waving a pointy object that close to a beast that could squash him like a bug problem.

Large wings stretched out to their full length, filling the space. For a moment, he got a glimpse of delicate, almost butterfly webbing, pulled over the bones that made up the wings before the dragon made a noise of pain and retracted them again, hunching in on itself.

“Easy,” Virgil soothed, lifting a hand without thinking about it and resting it against the dragon’s side. Amazingly, despite having its legs free and being more than capable of turning him into a skewered prince treat, the dragon allowed him to touch. The scales were cool against his fingers, smooth and not at all unpleasant. It was nothing like he imagined, and there was something strangely reassuring about the contact, as though the dragon invoked feelings of security instead of fear. Somehow, he felt safe around the dragon. As sad as it was, this caged beast was the closest thing he had left to a friend. Well, there was still Patton of course, sweet, kind, in pain, Patton, but the other man could barely bring himself to even look at him, too caught up in his own misery and the conviction he was betraying Logan by consenting to a marriage neither had any real choice in.

“You probably just have cramp, give yourself a moment and try again.” he instructed, trying to push those thoughts away as best he could. The dragon tilted its head to the side, those intense brown eyes watching him for a moment before it slowly unfolded its wings once more, gingerly stretching them out.

They truly were a sight to behold, inky black with swirls of silver and gold scattered across them, pinpricks of light in all manner of patterns. It was like looking at the night sky and Virgil couldn’t think of the last time he had seen anything nearly that beautiful. He wanted to step closer, wanted to move under them and just let himself drift away, soothed by the sight. Was this dragon magical? All dragons had some magic flowing in them of course, but a stronger magic was the only explanation he could think of as to why he felt that connection to the dragon. As though it was trying to lure him to his doom.

It was certainly a very pretty doom, if nothing else.

“Okay... okay... I swear I’m not trying to hurt you, but I need... I need to cut these bindings okay?” There was an undeniable tremour to his words, Virgil swallowing heavily as he pulled out the small and very sharp blade he had also liberated from the guards room. The dagger wasn’t overly ornate, nothing like the ones he had been given over the years. Some were merely decorative, the blade little more than an surface to cover with gems. Some had been intended to be used to actually train him in fighting - yet another lesson that had been cancelled after his father's death, it wouldn’t do for Virgil to get too independent after all - but even those had been blunted so as not to cause actual injury.

This one was an actual weapon though and he barely knew how to hold it correctly. Virgil was still half convinced he was going to slice his own hand off trying to use it. Who needed a dragon to kill him when he could manage it all on his own?

It had to be his imagination, but he could have sworn that the dragon rolled its eyes at him and simply nudged its head closer, almost exasperated by his nerves and silently urging him to start already.

It seemed to trust him. A small smile crept onto his face in awe at that before shaking his head a little and he needed to focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. His hand was remarkably steady as he slipped the blade in between pieces of leather, working of cutting through the first joint. Piece by piece, the halter fell away, scraps of leather pooling around Virgil’s feet as he worked. With a final soft snap, the last piece was cut away from the dragon’s face, Virgil taking a stumbling step backwards in order to admire his handiwork. He had actually freed the dragon.

It opened its jaws tentatively, testing the new freedom and... and that was a lot of teeth it had. Very sharp, pointed, shiny... teeth. Virgil swallowed heavily, eyes flickering to the exit. If he tried to make a run for it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to actually make it. The beast would be on him before he could get five feet. All he could do was stand there and hope for the best. Brilliant plan.

The dragon didn't seem remotely interested in doing anything to him, more concerned with trying to make its jaws work as they should. Sounds slipped from its mouth, disjointed, nonsensical sounds. Could they speak English? This one seemed to understand him at least and if it could understand then it made sense it could talk. How else could it communicate with the humans it no doubt encountered in its life? The beast coughed, a few puffs of smoke floating out of its mouth. The cough sounded more like a cat choking up a hairball and that was a far more adorable image than it had any right to be. Dragon’s were not normally described as adorable.

Virgil wished he could have stayed in the dungeons longer, to see if it truly could speak or not. He wished he could have watched the dragon fully recover and escape

It would have been nice to see someone escape.

“Good luck,” Virgil mumbled awkwardly, hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. “I have to go, but if you wait about half an hour to recover, everyone should be inside. It’s a fairly short route from here to the courtyard and you can hopefully fly back to whenever you came from. Just... please. Don't hurt my people? I know a lot of them are jerks and they did this to you in the first place but. Well. You might hurt some innocents in the process.” He paused, unsure if he was waiting for an answer or not.

The dragon simply flexed its jaw once more. Virgil sighed, shaking his head, a few pale purple strands of hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Normally he preferred his hair over his face, letting it hide him away from the world but as tempting as hiding away was, he really needed to be able to see the dragon clearly. He sighed again, blowing the strands of hair back out of his face and this was why he hated talking to people - awkward silences when he never knew if he was supposed to say anything else or let them talk first. The moment stretched out, longer and longer, both of them quiet bar the odd noise as the dragon continued to stretch out its body.

“Anyway...” Virgil started, unable to handle the silence any longer and it had felt as though it was crushing him, weighing him down like the crown on his head. “Like I said good luck. Hopefully we won't see each other again.”

The dragon’s head snapped back to stare at him at that, Virgil shrinking back at the glare. What had he said wrong now? Virgil was used to saying something wrong, he was always doing it but his words should have reassured it, should have brought joy to it. He was giving it freedom and in return merely asking that it refrain from killing people right away. Virgil opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, vainly struggling to think of something else to say. Not for the first time, he wished Logan was here. Logan - while being as ill equipped as Virgil to deal with social situations - would always have something to say. Some fascinating tidbit about dragons or the lands in which it came from. Something that would feel the silence.

The dragon continued to stare at him.

Virgil had to go. The gaze was unnerving, setting his teeth even more on edge and he felt as though he was about to become a snack, or worse - not that he knew what worse exactly was. Not to mention, every second he spent down here increased the chance of someone coming down here looking for him and ruining the escape attempt. He had to go, back to his own cage, back to his dark and dull life. He couldn’t even muster a smile of farewell to the dragon as he backed away from it, keeping it in his sights until he was by the exit before turning and hurrying away. A distressed noise came from somewhere behind him, as though his leaving had upset the beast in some way and he almost - almost - turned back.

It took everything in him to keep moving, to carry on putting one foot in front of another, to ignore that sound when his heart was screaming at him to go back. It was bizarre, this connection he felt to the dragon, this need to reassure and comfort and try and make things better. He tugged his purple cloak around him tighter as he walked, needing the comfort that the weight provided. It matched his hair perfectly in color, the shade long having been the colour of his family, the colour of royalty. Something about purple making a good shroud and his family really needed to have less morbid mottos.

Virgil still didn’t know if his choice had been the correct one but it had felt like the only one he could make in the circumstances. He couldn’t save himself, he couldn’t save Patton and he certainly couldn’t save Logan, wherever he was, so all that was left was to save a dragon, no matter how crazy it was. No matter how crazy he had to be to do such a thing.

And he had to be going mad, to think he had heard his name being called out from the large cell as he hurried up the stairs to the courtyard, blinking a little as he moved out of the darkness and into bright sunlight. Virgil had barely made it ten steps away from the dungeon entrance before one of the servants was hovering, almost dragging him to the hall, where the birthday celebration rehearsal was about to begin. The whole thing was nothing more than a play, everyone acting out their preordained roles, Virgil shunted from place to place as if he was nothing more than a puppet in everyone else's story.

When the roof of the great hall had been ripped off by an angry dragon half way through the practise speeches, Virgil’s first thought had been disappointment.

His second had been blind terror.

Chapter Text

Fight or Flight

He really was every epitaph he had thought of and this was all his own fault. He had brought this dragon down upon his people and every death was upon him and him alone. Everything the dragon did was down to him and his insanity - he had no clue what had possessed him to free a dragon of all things. There had been a lot of smoke and fire and screams, the precise memories lost in the panic of the moment.

Virgil wasn't ashamed to admit that a lot of the screaming had come from him.

The dragon had seemed intent on him after all. It had focused its efforts on swatting away the people around him, sending the guards flying through the air and colliding with the strong stone walls as it bellowed ear piercing screams and breathed fire. Stained glass windows were smashed, centuries of history destroyed in an instant, the stories of his family shattering as though nothing. There was little chance to mourn the loss of his parents window or his grandparents, not when there was still a dragon apparently determined to rain down destruction. It’s tail swung madly around, lashing this way and that, as the beast continued its furious assault.

The flames it breathed seemed more to scare people than to actually roast any of them, the dragon using them to create a wall between Virgil and those who might have helped him, without actually roasting them. Although he could never know for sure, he was fairly certain that nobody had died during the attack and that hope was something he clung to grimly, no matter what else life threw at him, no matter how crazy things became.

If Virgil could have moved, he would have joined the mass exodus of people streaming to get out of what had suddenly felt like a far too tiny great hall. It was more like a trap for the dragon to play in, than a place where a prince was due to become a king. All around him rose a din of noise, shouts and screams as the servants and guards struggled to avoid any of the dragon’s limbs or its fire breath. Moving was beyond him however, he was frozen in fear, every limb little more than a piece of stone as though he were a statue. Even if he could have somehow convinced his legs to start working again, there was still the ring of fire encircling him, separating him from everyone else.

Above him, the howls of the dragon suddenly ceased, so only the crackling of the fire and the beat of leathery wings in the air could be heard. Timidly, Virgil looked up - and promptly screamed again, arms flinging upwards in a vain attempt to shield himself.

A giant clawed foot reached out for him, scooping him up in one smooth motion, claws curling around him and plucking him straight up into the air. He bounced a little, the world vanishing below him, vision narrowing to little more than giant, bird like talons and claws. A cage built out of flesh, with flashes of colour at either end, little hints of the world outside it.

Dazed, he couldn’t help but notice how gentle the dragon was as it picked him up, how it avoided impaling him or holding him too tightly. Somewhere above him, he heard the flap of large wings and tentatively, Virgil shuffled around on his hands and knees, crawling towards one of the edges, trying to find a way out. He just hoped that the dragon couldn’t feel him moving about, couldn’t tell he was trying to escape as he finally reached one of the spots where he could still see the outside world. Carefully, Virgil started to push himself through. Mere seconds later however, he flung himself back from the gap, hand clamped over his mouth to swallow the scream that had threatened to escape, some part of him still anxious about alerting the dragon to anything.

High. High. He was far, far too high up. Too high and getting higher every second, his home vanishing away into a series of small stone buildings and a patchwork of green. A burst of white filled his vision, and Virgil realised they had broken through the clouds, brilliant blue following seconds later and all he could see was the endless sky, clouds carpeting the area below them in grim parody of the ground. He was way too high, Virgil letting a small whimper escape as he backed away from the small gap, suddenly praying that the dragon wasn’t going to loosen its hold on him and let him fall to his horrible, horrible death. Virgil closed his eyes tightly once more, curled into a little ball and hung on for dear life.

--

As it turned out, Virgil was a royal idiot.

The reason he had felt so comfortable with the dragon, the reason it had seemed intelligent, the reason it hadn’t tried to hurt him, the reason it had crashed the party and made off with him without killing anyone, the reason the Queen Mother had wanted to inflicted pain on it, the reason it had reminded him of Logan. The answer was simple, the same for every question that had plagued him whenever he thought of the dragon.

The dragon was Logan.

The dragon - no, Logan - could still talk perfect English, but the leather straps binding his face had prevented him. Then, he had needed the time for his jaw to stop aching enough to be able to move it in order to form words. And, of course, he had needed a few moments to work out how to properly use his new body, how to translate thought into sound. By the time he had managed that, Virgil had vanished back into the daylight, leaving Logan to try and learn how to fly.

Luckily, Logan had always been a fast learner.

It hadn’t been his greatest plan, but Logan had known he needed to get Virgil out of there and couldn’t risk waiting in case anyone realised his chains had been unlocked. There had been a time limit on his rescue attempt and while attempting something without properly thinking it through wasn’t his forte, events had left him with little choice. Smashing through the roof and escaping with Virgil had been the only thing he could think to do, Logan flying for hours with the prince carefully trapped in his claws. Only when the sun was starting to set did he dare land, finding a secluded beach to gently deposit his prince.

When Virgil calmed down enough to hear and understand all this, a myriad of emotions rushed through him. Shock, surprise, shame, anger, relief, joy... joy blossomed brightest in him, something far larger than his body could contain, a living, beating force that threatened to overwhelm him completely, breath catching in his throat. Fingers were shaking as he slowly reached out, gently touching against the dragon... against Logan. It all surged in him again, a great tidal wave of emotions and he was cresting on its peak.

For the longest time he simply pressed his face against Logan’s side, shoulders shaking as he silently cried into the hide. Logan was alive. His best friend was alive and... well, not exactly okay, but he was alive, he was here. He was as safe as he could be and he was here. It felt as though the Queen Mother might not have completely won after all.

Only after he had sufficiently calmed down, did he feel strong enough to pull away - but not far, one hand still resting against the scales, as though afraid Logan might vanish in a puff of smoke and leave him alone once more. Only then did he start to think about what they were going to do now and how he was going to reverse this. Because there had to be a way to reverse it. No spell was unbreakable, they all had loopholes, they all had cures. It was the way of magic, to forever be a series of checks and balances. Only a fool saw it as a weapon without realising the costs that must be paid in turn. Virgil might not be great with the practical aspect of magic yet, but he had read more than enough of the history, of the theory, to believe that.

Someone being cursed into a dragon wasn’t a spell he had heard of before though - most revenge spells involved changing the unfortunate soul into a frog or a harmless little flea, something along those lines, something that couldn’t actually fight back. It was still perfectly possible, a dragon was just another form after all, and ease enough to deal with if you were a powerful witch and had a Kingdom’s resources to hand. Plus, if you had a dragon under lock and key, even one that had originally been human, you had a ready supply of fresh dragon parts for any potion that might require them.

There was a lot that Logan didn’t remember. A lot that the Prince had to piece together, bit by bit, the jagged edges of the stories cutting into him as he tried to work out which went where.

Gradually however, a picture emerged.

Of a furious Queen Mother, thwarted in her efforts to control a son or a Kingdom. Ranting and raving at the cheek of the three who had presumed to decide their own destinies. Logan tied to a chair while she paced furiously in front of him, trying to work out what to do. Death, she had quickly decided, was far too quick for Logan, too kind. He had tried to steal her son away from her, away from the destiny she had designed for him. So what if Patton had picked him, if she had never seen Patton as happy as the times she had watched covertly as he met with Logan.

He would get over it. He would be happy once he was on a throne, and would be suitably grateful to his mother for getting him there. He would understand that sacrifices had to be made for the greater good and what could be greater, what could be better, than ascending a throne and becoming part of the most powerful family in the land? Virgil was weak willed, weak witted even and needed as much guidance as possible. Who else could there be but Patton and standing one discrete, modest pace behind him, the Queen Mother herself.

It was around about that time, Logan said, that he told the Queen Mother exactly how crazy she was.

He begrudgingly admitted that he had been wrong to say that. Not because the statement itself was wrong - they both agreed that she was easily the craziest person they had ever even heard of, let alone met. No, it was a mistake in that it angered her, made her thoughts turn to a more subtle, lasting punishment for someone who had dared to place her sons happiness above his destiny.

The old woman was a witch. Something Virgil knew he should have worked out considering his heritage and his default paranoid nature but he had been more intent on avoiding the crone rather than discovering her secrets. The Queen was her protege, the pair subscribing to the simpler view that magic equalled power without any drawbacks. The more magic you had, the stronger you were and the easier it was to crush anyone who looked at you funny.

He knew he would never be safe so long as she was in power. He would never be free until she was overthrown. They could turn right back around, right now and face her but what good would that do? Even a dragon who was confident and experienced in powers would struggle against a whole kingdom - Logan had only survived the first time because of the element of surprise, something they both knew had been lost for good. No one was going to believe anything Virgil said if he came sitting on a dragon and if he came alone, the Queen Mother would see to it that he would never get to say anything about what had really happened. No, returning like this, was out of the question.

Protected by Logan, and surrounded by every magical book they could get their hands on, Virgil threw himself into his own personal quest, something he knew he had to complete before he even considered growing strong enough to return to reclaim his crown.

He had to find that elusive cure for Logan. He had to save him, in the same way Logan had saved him first. There had to be a way to break the curse that had been placed upon him by the vengeful witch, some way to restore him to his human form. Some way to reunite him with Patton so that two of them could be together as they deserved. Love might not be in the stars for Virgil himself but he was damned if he wasn’t going to make sure Logan got his happily ever after.

Virgil’s only regret was that they hadn’t been able to go back for Patton. In between his attempts to break the curse on Logan he looked into ways they could spirit the other man out of the castle but they all required returning to the castle. Virgil still didn't have the strength to do that and could only hope and pray that Patton was doing alright, that the Queen Mother wasn’t twisting him to her own wicked ends.

Gradually, he taught himself magic, his power always sluggish but there at least, capable of holding his own in a desperate situation. He could reach down and call it, control it although it always felt as though there was a thin pane of glass between what he wanted and what he could actually do. As though he was merely touching the outer edges of his potential and could never quite manage to step inside it properly.

It was enough for now.

In the meantime, they had to deal with the near constant stream of fortune hunters that chased them across the land, intent on stealing Virgil away from Logan and returning him to his gilded cage.

At first, they had tried to simply avoid them, to fly away at the first sight of trouble. They had led various knights on all kinds of crazy chases across the land and each time upon losing them for good, they had been forced to return to their hideout and pack up as quickly as possible. It was hardly an ideal solution but Virgil had been at a loss as to what else they could do.

Until one day, one sword came a little too close to injuring Virgil - the knight who wielded it sneeringly claimed he didn’t need Virgil conscious to claim his reward and that a dragon lover didn’t deserve any consideration. The Queen Mother would ‘fix’ him, the knight promised, would cure him of whatever spell he was under so he no longer thought such outlandish things. She would see to it that he was normal once more.

Virgil didn’t like the sound of that.

Neither did Logan.

Making a fire breathing dragon lose his temper was not the knight’s brightest plan. It was a shame that the man would be unable to learn from his mistake - you couldn’t learn very much when you had been roasted to a crisp by dragon fire.

Virgil knew Logan had lost something in that moment. He knew he had too, that they had stared at the dead knight and felt something in themselves die. A line had been crossed and neither of them could remain the same. He didn’t know who suffered more - Logan for committing the deed, and for being willing to do it again if he had to (and he did have to, many times before the tale was done.) Or Virgil, for knowing he was the reason Logan had been forced to make such a decision in the first place, that he was the reason Logan was even a dragon at all.

It had been more than a line in the sand for them both. It had been the end of an innocence, and although they never spoke of it again, he knew the memory of that day haunted them both.

Eventually, they settled in a remote castle, far away from his own. It had been abandoned many decades ago by its last owner, part of the wall and one of the towers crumbling away into an uninhabitable ruin. The rest of it was fairly cosy once Virgil had put a little bit of work into it, and it came with a series of roofed rooms Logan could fit into. All in all, they had been in worst spots. It would do while they worked on their plans.

And so the years passed.

Chapter Text

He Rides a Noble Steed

“Another one.”

The voice cut through his concentration, Logan’s tone annoyed at having to deliver the news, at it being news in the first place. Virgil looked up from his book, finger resting against the line he had been reading, brow furrowed in thought. The purple pendant around Virgil’s neck glowed slightly as the words echoed through his mind, stone flashing in time to the mental words.

It had taken him months to brew the potion needed to infuse the stone with the magic required but more than worth it when he considered the results. It meant he could communicate directly with Logan, no matter where either of them was. So long as he wore his necklace and Logan had his wound around his back leg then they could always speak telepathically. It reassured Virgil, knowing Logan was always a single thought away, that he was never alone and that they were both safe. And it comforted Logan, to know he could always find his prince when he needed to.

He had his pick of any number of stones, Logan depositing a veritable treasure trove of precious stones at his feet - and Virgil really didn’t want to think about where he got them from, didn’t question his friend on the find. There had never been any doubt in his mind about the stone he would use, if only he could find one that was the right colour. Purple was one of the few things he had left of his old life, his cloak having become increasingly tattered and ripped over the years until eventually he had been forced to discard it altogether. The stone almost made up for that.

At the same time as the words in his mind, he felt the wards tremble a little as an intruder passed through them, a thousand tiny invisible lines shaking and waving in the air, further proof that Logan was right.

There was another human on their way to the castle. Another knight no doubt, full of crusading zest and a blindness about the world that would be unshakeable. It must be wonderful, to only see the black or the white. Virgil saw too much grey in the world at times and it weighed on him.

“Again?” Virgil muttered, word mostly aimed at himself. It had felt like mere days since the last time an idiot had barged into the quiet little life they had constructed for themselves and tried to ‘free’ him from this terrible existence of a warm bed, more books than he could possibly read and the company of his oldest and dearest friend.

How was he supposed to get any work done when the Queen kept sending people to try and drag him back? He knew in his heart, that they didn’t realise they were being used, that they saw themselves as the heroes and he, the damsel in distress.

He also knew, from bitter personal experience, that there was no point trying to tell any of them the truth. They had gotten it into their heads that all dragons were evil and so Logan was evil, without any further thought or discussion. They had to try and kill him because that was what a knight did when faced with a dragon. It was as though they were the puppets now instead of Virgil, given a role to play and within the very narrow confines of that role, they had embraced it with unashamed enthusiasm. He had no idea what poison the Queen Mother whispered in their ears, what lies filled their heads but whatever it was, it was stronger than any truth he could try and show them. The few that Virgil had tried to tell his true story to had simply started raving about dragon magic and how he must be confused. Just like the first one, the one neither of them mentioned.

This new knight would no doubt be the same, brave, reckless, noble in all the grandest of ways... and no doubt, a completely clueless moron.

Carefully, he bookmarked the page he had been reading, setting the book aside for later. He was too cautious to admit to feeling hope, but there was the possibility of hope within the pages of this latest book Logan had retrieved for him. It spoke of curses, powerful curses. More that however, it also spoke of cures. So far, it had only touched on how to remove smaller curses, blindness, an unsightly boil on the end of your nose but in theory it should move onto larger ones. Maybe even dragon sized ones.

Reading would have to wait though, first there was a knight to take care of, Virgil rising and lifting a hand to his face to pinch at his eyes. A few days peace. A little while to just embrace his work, was it really too much to ask that just once he would have some good luck? Why couldn’t they just find some other castle and dragon to bother?

It was useless to think such things. Virgil knew better than to believe he would ever have any sort of good luck. Past evidence proved that he did not get anything even remotely close to a break. He moved swiftly through the many passages within the castle, pace confident as muscle memory allowed him to progress without having to stop at every junction and think for a moment The old building a maze of little twisting paths and small rooms. Anyone entering them for the first time was liable to get lost and that would give Virgil the advantage he needed to get to safety because he knew them like the back of his hand.

Virgil liked this castle best out of all the places they had found to hide and he wasn’t about to let some brainless moron with a pointy bit of metal take him from it or more importantly, try and hurt Logan.

Daylight streamed in through a small window set at ground level, one that offered a clear and unobscured view to the courtyard. It was the same window Virgil always went to whenever a knight came to visit, whenever he needed to help defend themselves. It let him get a look at the whole potential battlefield and he had cast more than his fair share of spells from the safety of this little opening. Fingers brushed along the worn stonework of the window frame in silent greeting. Each of the little dips and bumps in the stone were familiar to him, a reassuring pattern he could understand and remain confident would be the same the next time he came to this window. And the next time and the next.

Thumb pressed a little too hard against the edge of the corner of the window, a small chunk of masonry breaking away under his touch. It clattered to the ground, crumbling into hundreds of tiny little specks of dust at the contact, ths sound echoing in the enclosed space. It sounded much louder than it had to have been, as though Virgil had dropped an anvil that clanged and loudly screamed his presence here to all and sundry. Numbly, he stared at the ground, hand still frozen against the window ledge. It wasn’t the same anymore. Sure, he would relearn the shape it had become now, he would grow familiar with the new jagged edge but it wasn’t the same.

It could cut him as easily as it could comfort him. It changed and thus changed everything - or maybe he was just being overly melodramatic. Still, it felt as though something else had crumbled inside of him as well. Virgil wasn’t one to really believe in portents and signs, but even he couldn’t ignore the coincidence here. It had to just be a coincidence, a freakish accident that happened occasionally. That was all. The castle was old, older than he could even guess, falling down around their ears. It made perfect sense for parts of it to break away in his hand and the more surprising thing had to be the fact it was still standing at all.

Somewhere above him, he could hear the beating of strong wings as Logan flew around the three towers that still remained standing, forever keeping the new arrival in his sights and making sure in turn, the knight’s attention would be fully on him and not on the ground. Not on any noise Virgil might make by accident, and the knight couldn’t have heard that tiny bit of stone smashing against the ground, surely. Hopefully. Virgil needed him to remain focused on Logan and not on the flash of pale purple hair in the shadows of the interior which would betray at once his heritage. It wouldn’t do to have them try and skip the dragon completely.

With a deep breath, Virgil peered around the edge of the window, trying to get a good look at his newest would be rescuer.

As expected, the man on the horse was fully focused on the dragon atop the tallest tower - and seriously, a literal bright white steed? Seriously? Who did this one think he was? Sat there all tall, sword in one hand, the reigns of his horse held lightly in another. He was dressed in a mixture of white cloth and leather armour, giving him greater freedom of movement. Virgil had to admit, he seemed smarter than most that came to try and ‘rescue’ him. He knew better than to wrap himself in metal that offered no protection from the fire breath of a dragon and the prince couldn’t remember the last time someone had thought to do that. His would be saviours were normally very boring, very similar, an endless array of cardboard cutouts with no plan beyond ‘try and stab the dragon, oh no I am burning, who could have foreseen such an outcome.’

The knight turned a little as Logan moved from one tower to another, shifting to keep his apparent enemy in line of sight. Somewhere in his mind, he felt himself whisper, there you are as he watched the scene in front of him. It gave Virgil a better view of him, able to take in warm golden-brown eyes and near perfectly styled hair - who took the time to style such rich chestnut coloured hair just before going to do battle with an apparently evil dragon? Who was this ridiculous man? Virgil had always made a point to know as little as possible about the people who came to fight Logan. He didn’t want their names or histories haunting him when all was said and done. He didn’t want them haunting Logan and yet he found himself wanting to know more about this ridiculous contradiction of knight and peacock.

Anyone else, Virgil would have dismissed them as a brainless clothes horse, someone who cared about looks and nothing else. There was something about the way he sat through, the determined press of soft looking lips, the way he held his sword steady without so much as a quiver. The front of his outfit was more detailed than the sides, more than just white and leather, red and gold flashing across his chest but Virgil wasn’t focused on them so much as still staring at his face, drinking in every little detail, the way a curl of hair refused to behave, sticking out near the back of his head or the way the sun seemed to frame his face, making every detail stand out all the more.

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality with a sickening lurch.

Oh.

Oh no.

He thought he was cute.

He thought he was cute and the idiot was going to attack Logan and then Logan was going to have to defend himself until it ended one of two ways; either Logan turned him into crispy knight or Virgil used his magic to wipe his mind and he was still tired from the last one he had used his magic on. After all these years and he could still barely summon enough energy to cast more than one complex spell without needing a few days to recharge. Virgil didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t seem to properly tap into that wellspring that he could almost taste, just below the surface. There was magic boiling in his blood and yet it remained constantly out of any real reach. Yet another mark to add on the failure column, another thing to bring shame to his family name.

It wasn’t the only thing confusing him today, wasn’t the only great mystery in his life. He didn’t know why, but something in his soul told him he couldn’t let this one die. Hand flew to the pendant. Fingers curling tightly around the cool stone, thumb brushing over it as he focused, Virgil speaking through it and into Logan’s mind.

“Get him to do the tests!”

Silence answered him. For that horrible moment, he thought Logan wasn’t going to listen. That this was the moment, the moment he had been anticipating and dreading all these years, the moment when the Queen won and he lost. The moment he still didn't know how to stop, still wasn’t ready for. The moment when he would utterly fail Logan once and for all.

He was a terrible friend, a terrible prince and an even worse magic user, unable to cast a simple counter curse, unable to even slow the rot.

“If you insist.”

Relief coursed through him at Logan’s answer, his shoulders relaxing at the knowledge that Logan was still there. He hadn’t lost his friend yet, there was still time. Maybe... maybe just maybe, this knight would provide the distraction he so desperately needed. He might keep Logan focused and give him something to think about. A new puzzle to try and solve and that had to be better than any of the now predictable challenges Virgil could throw at him.

Plus and perhaps equally as importantly, the longer he was out on his quest to try and save Virgil, the longer it would be before his wicked stepmother sent someone else out to find him - in theory. If he could string it out long enough, it might give Virgil enough time to finish this book and potentially find a cure. Virgil had no idea what he was going to do after that, after he had saved Logan and there was no longer a fire breathing angry dragon willing to protect him but he also knew his own safety didn’t matter. Not really. All that mattered was saving those he loved. It was the only thing he had left now.

Virgil pressed as close to the window as he dared, wanting to be able to see what was going on. Maybe he just wanted a better look at the knight but then it wasn't as though he was blind. Who wouldn't want to enjoy that view? He so rarely got to look at anything new and interesting. He so rarely got to see Logan show off, his friend puffing his chest up a little as he landed on one of the towers, glaring down the stranger.

Virgil pointedly ignored the little voice in his mind that whispered he had never wanted to watch any of the other knights, he had never wanted to see how they reacted to Logan and enjoy the sight of them prancing around on their horses. He also ignored the whispers that he was really watching to make sure Logan was actually going to give him the tests and not kill him on the sly.

He trusted Logan.

He did.

Chapter Text

Powerful claws dug into the tiles of the tower roof as he stared down at the latest intruder to disturb the peace of the sanctuary they had carved out for themselves. Pitiful, stupid little man, to think that he had any chance against something as large and as powerful as the dragon perched gracefully atop the tower, tail coiled around it as though protecting it. Logan might not have wished to become a dragon in the first place, but he was not blind to the possibilities it provided him. He used all his skills to defeat his enemies, no matter how numerous and never ending they seemed to be. This one would just be another in a long line, face forgotten as soon as it had been dealt with.

Acting as though there was something in a particular tower that he wanted to protect was laughably easy really, all he had to do was stand there and they would instantly believe that had to be where he was holding the prince. As if Logan would ever be as foolish as lead an enemy right to his treasure.

Claws tightened on the tiles, drawing deep gashes into them, a scattering of pottery flaking off the roof and falling harmlessly to the ground. Logan didn’t like this. He didn’t like the fact that he was supposed to talk to this one, when he was almost certainly just going to try and stab him. What was the point in talking, when it would just lead to fighting? Why waste time when the end result would just be a dead knight and a guilty looking Virgil. As though it was his fault they threw themselves to their death. It was a mistake to drag this out, it just increased the chances that Virgil might develop some latent sympathy for the fool and then he would feel even worse when it all inevitably went to hell in a handbasket.

“Hey Sir Flames-a-lot!”

The little bug was shouting up to him. Interrupting his thinking. The man waved his sword, the blade flashing in the sun and it seemed as though he was using it to attract Logan’s attention instead of as a weapon. That or he was trying to annoy Logan for some insane reason. If it was that reason, then he was certainly achieving his aim.

Logan dipped his head a little, gently blowing a few lazy smoke rings down towards the knight, letting him know he was listening. There was some quiet satisfaction to be had from the way the man coughed and sputtered as the smoke reached him. Some, but not nearly enough to still the itch between his shoulder blades, wings twitching furiously. The desire to just end this before it began was still strong, almost overwhelming him and it was with a great effort that he wrenched himself back to the present, focusing his attention on the knight and what he was shouting up for him.

“Do you think you could fly on down here? I forgot to bring a bow and arrow so our fight would be a bit one sided which is hardly fair now is it?”

Logan liked one sided.

Far less chance of getting any injury that way and since he had no intention of losing to the knight, of letting him carry off a prize that was rightfully Logan’s. No intention of suffering any kind of hurt because of this bug who thought he was so much better than he was. Who was so foolish to simply believe all the lies without once stopping to question any of the details. But his Prince wanted to put this one through the tests. He had to remember that, had to keep reminding himself of that. Virgil wanted this one to try and prove himself worthy and Logan wanted whatever would make Virgil happy. He had to want what Virgil wanted and only what Virgil wanted because what he wanted, in the deepest, darkest, most base corners of his soul was simply too frightening to think about.

What he wanted wasn’t even a human desire anymore and for all that his outward appearance resembled a hideous beast now, inward he had to believe he was still human. His soul - or whatever it was that he possessed, that spark that made him, him, was more than just flesh and bone. It was something that none of his books had ever been able to agree on, the mystery of what made up a soul. Whatever it was, it transcended form. It was a human nature he strove for, what he had once been. It was those sorts of wants he had to want. Not what the whispers said he should want.

At least he and the whispers both agreed that this was a bad idea that was probably going to end poorly. Logan disliked it when they interacted with the humans that came to his - their - castle. He just hoped this would be over with soon, thoughts turning ever more towards violence as he pushed himself off the roof with surprising ease for something so large. For a moment, he rose up in the air, twirling a little as he made a u-turn, before diving back down to the ground.

Logan landed gracefully in the large courtyard, his midnight sky leathery wings fluttering majestically in the breeze. His prince might be royalty in fact but he was a king in name. There was nothing that could compare to the power of a dragon, nothing in all the lands, mortal or supernatural that could ever hope to topple him from the top of the food chain. Pale brown eyes blinked slowly as he watched the knight in front of him, he didn't charge him, like so many had foolishly done before.

For a moment there was nothing he wanted more than to see this mortal quiver in front of him. Worship him perhaps as an old God, some promodial, something greater than a librarian, greater than a prince, greater than a king. He wanted worship and adoration for the wonder that he was. He wanted everyone to tremble and despair at his glory.

And then he would ea- and the- and nothing. And then nothing.

He was going to do nothing to this knight unless he was forced to. He wasn’t going to kill him. That didn’t meant he was going to make it easy for him instead though, or that he was going to relax in the slightest around him. He was still dangerous.

Which meant he needed to be careful around him, had to approach everything as though it was part of the fight ahead. Pieces on a chessboard, and it meant he had to think several moves ahead, some part of Logan relishing the prospect. This had the potential to be fun as well as dangerous, if he could move his pawns carefully. Nothing could be overlooked, could be left to chance. He certainly wasn’t going to hand the knight a perfectly crafted weapon by using his own, soft voice. It was hardly one people would expect to come out of a fierce dragon and so he tended to deepen it whenever he had to speak to someone other than Virgil. It all added to his overall facade he sought to present to those people, a shield against their cruel thoughts and words. If he played the role, then the fact they thought he was truly like that was more a testament to his skills as an actor rather than a sign he was losing his humanity. He had never wanted to be a good actor before becoming this.

“Knight... no. Not a knight. A thief,” Logan hissed in his deeper tone of voice, a few puffs of smoke curling out from his nostrils, his utter disdain clear to hear in his words. Out of all their visitors, he particularly did not like knights - they rarely spoke of anything but hate and anger. They threatened to hurt not only him but Virgil and that was something he was never going to let happen. They had come too close to hurting his prince in the past and while Virgil might feel some guilt about the end result, he did not. It was the only logical outcome that could have happened in such a situation, the only one that had enabled both him and Virgil to escape unharmed. How could he possibly feel bad about something so satisfying as the cold, reassuring presence of a hard logic that flowed from A to B to C without any deviation. A threat was seen and eliminated. If only all knights could be dealt with so easily.

Not to mention, they were terrible bores most of the time, uneducated in anything but the art of the blade. It was getting hard enough as it was to maintain his high intellect as it was. Virgil was inspiring company of course, and would constantly read to him during the dark nights, easily glossing over the fact that Logan was unable to hold the books himself anymore. His claws tended to destroy any he tried to handle with the intent to reach them, unable to turn the flimsy pages without ripping them. He had resorted to simply collecting as many as he could find and giving them unsorted to Virgil. A lot of the time, he was sure, the books were useless to his prince, but he kept hunting them down, raiding libraries and temples which might hold something of use. It was worth it, to see Virgil smile at the gifts. Worth it to hear his low voice lull him to sleep with stories from one of the books, be it fact or fiction.

It was perhaps the cruelest part of this curse, crueler by far than the way in which it changed his body. Perhaps not as cruel as the part which had resulted in him being seperated from someone he believed he was growing to care for. But cutting him off from his books, preventing him from pursuing knowledge. He loved to learn. Or he did. Logan isn’t sure he cares so much about that anymore, not when there are more pressing matters to focus on.

Such as his precious prince and he needed to keep him safe from the dangers of the outside world. This knight stank of danger, stank of the outside world and all the perils that came with it. He smelt of the court, of luxury and silken threads that would bind a man more thoroughly than the toughest of wire.

“You’ve come for my treasure little thief?” Logan asked leaning his long neck forward just a fraction. Just to see if the knight would flinch or move back. A few had even fallen flat on their backs as the reality of the situation in front of them had gradually dawned on them, as they realised that a dragon was not a beast to be trifled with. He was curious to see how this one would react with the same stimuli and how amusing it would be if he fell on his backside as well.

For science, of course.

“I’ve come to free the prince you hold captive foul beast!” To Logan’s immense disappointment, the thief didn't so much as flince at his movement and begrudgingly, he had to admit this one seemed brave. But was it bravely or simply stupidity? At the end of the day, there was perhaps, little difference between the two and yet to dismiss him as stupid - no matter how tempting - seemed to fall short of the mark.

The knight actually puffed his chest out as he spoke, strutting his stuff as though Logan would be impressed by the mix of bravado and steel. As though he hasn’t seen this show played out in front of him more times than he can count. As if he doesn’t know the script off by heart, all the silly and pointless little things they might say as they tried to threaten him into giving up Virgil. It was all rather old, rather boring and while this one was braver than most, he was still waiting to see what it was about him that had caught Virgil’s attention so, that he was willing to give him a chance before he had even opened his mouth.

“Prince?” Logan asked, voice dripping with faux innocence. He blinked again, over exaggerating the movement so it took seconds instead of over in a flash.“What prince do you speak of, oh thief?”

“Do not think to play dumb with me. Unhand him at once, you monster!”

“I wasn’t aware we dragon’s have hands thief. I'm talking to you, in this courtyard. I do not see a prince and as I am not holding anything, I cannot unhand anyone. Try again, little thief. Somewhere else, if at all possible, you are starting to bore me,” He snorted as he spoke, shaking his head slightly in apparent amusement at the bold stupidity of this one.

“Bore? Bore you? How dare you, tall, dark and scaly! Nobody has ever complained that I bore them before! I will have you know, I am a delight to be around!”

The leather clad thief waved his sword arm around as he ranted and raved, sword dipping and flashing in the air as if was an extended part of his body. He almost seemed to have forgotten he was even holding it, nobody intending to use one as a weapon would wave it like a fan. It was strange, this contradiction. A brave thief who seemed to forget at times he was supposed to be a thief, forget that he wasn’t supposed to be arguing with a dragon. Most would threaten, offer up one chance to release Virgil and then that would be it, time for a boss battle. Not this one though. No, this one seemed more than happy to talk, as if he could talk Logan to death. It gave him the perfect chance to study this new opponent, to take in the ease in which he waved the blade, or the way in which he moved within his leather armour.

Logan had to admit, he admired his choice of clothing if nothing else, it would let him move easily. It would provide no protection from dragon fire, but then again, neither did plate armour. Plus, with the task he had in mind, the potential manoeuvrability would aid him. The man dismounted his horse with elegance, leather giving him full freedom of movement, as Logan had suspected and hoped. He looked even smaller on the ground, eyes almost glowing gold in the light of the fading sun. This one would have made a good dragon from his form alone, and perhaps there was something to be said in keeping him alive. Perhaps that was what Virgil had seen in him, a dragon’s heart, loyal and fierce. Perhaps he would provide a use after all, possibilities brewing in the back of his mind, too dim and distorted to be put into words yet.

“You cannot have any of my treasures, thief. Now leave, before I eat you. Go find a troll or a manticore to play with instead, I am sure you can find someone to rescue. A kitten stuck up a tree perhaps?”

All knightly behaviour vanished in an instant as the thief took a step forward, all but stamping his feet akin to a pouty child as he glared across the courtyard at Logan. It was almost amusing. He was almost amusing, this little man child who sought to battle powers far beyond his limited understanding. Almost.

“Stop... stop calling me a thief! I am no thief! I am Sir Roman and I have been sent here to rescue Prince Virgil so I demand that you release him at once or face the consequences!” The thief - Logan decided he much prefered calling him a thief and there was no way he was calling him Sir anything - stuttered a little as he spoke but it didn’t seem to be from fear. Logan had learnt a lot about people and fear, he understood the triggers and he recognized the signs, the smells. This one seemed more annoyed at being called a thief than worried about the fact he was staring down a jet black dragon that was about four times larger than his horse.

“How do you know I am the right dragon?” Logan asked, lifting a claw to examine it delicately. It was long and curved, a pale mother of pearl gleam to its edges catching the light and making it almost glow in the light. It reminded Logan a little of treasure and he does like treasure. Little gold coins clicking together as he pushes them around, the sound like music to his ears. They are cool and refreshing, although his hidden hoard is not as large as he would like. There is a reason why he keeps it small, keeps it hidden but right now, he cannot remember. All he can think of as he admires his claw is the beauty of the gold. Of all the tiny little gems he has mixed in with the gold, the rainbow of colours they create as they glint and shine against the small flames he will create just for that purpose. He didn't know the names of all the gems but that doesn’t matter. They are pretty, names do not add to that. There were a couple of larger pieces in there too, such as a golden cup, a silver and black staff.

By far and away the best piece however, was the golden crown he discovered in this very castle. The metal was of a darker colour than normal gold, as though it had passed through fire before and managed to retain its shape, delicate twists and coils surrounding a series of bright, dark green gems.

A crown fit for his prince, and he would show it to Virgil one day. One day. He would make him wear it one day, the two most precious items in his collection together, as they should be.

He needed to keep himself focused on what is important and as much as he could bask in thoughts of treasure all day, there is still a threat here and now to be dealt with. Right now Logan needs to be more concerned about this thief coming to try and take something precious out of this castle and how it wouldn't take much to just lunge forward and use his wickedly sharp claws to make an end of this annoying little bug.

Virgil would be upset he didn't listen but he is sure his prince would- would.... Virgil would be upset.

That is not what Logan wants. He doesn’t want treasure, he wants his friend, he wants his books, he wants the memory of a man with a shy smile and a dusting of freckles across his nose to remain bright in his mind.

He wants to bask in thoughts of stolen moments with his friend and snatched moments with the man he might care for, not in riches. He wants to know the names of every mineral and precious stone. Logan knows that he used to know that, that once upon a time, he could have recited them all off by heart. He wants everything that has been stolen from him and nothing he has gained.

For all that this dragon form has granted him power, it has taken far more from him. It took his life as he had known it, wanted it. Everything had always been very ordered with Logan, he had known and understood each step that his life was supposed to follow. He would follow in the family footsteps, join the royal court. An assistant to the librarian was hardly a prestigious job of course but it was a start. It was a foot on the ladder of success that he could climb ever higher until he had reached a goal that his lofty intelligence was more suited to.

Becoming best friends with the Crown Prince - while logically a sound move for a shortcut to power if he so desired to take advantage of it - had hardly been in the plan. Then again, neither had falling in lov- neither had possibly becoming closer and perhaps even caring for the prince’s unwilling fiancē. Suddenly, none of his plans were able to cope with the direction his life had taken and yet for all of that, Logan found himself sticking to the new path. He wanted these new and strange things that friendship and feelings offered him.

Being cursed into the form of a dragon hadn’t been on any list, so ridiculous would the idea have been. Not just the curse itself, but to have spoken so disrespectfully to someone in power when they had the ability to... well... curse him into a dragon. It was one thing to tell the head librarian that his sorting system was an ancient barbaric thing more worthy to rot than to be used in the royal halls, it was quite another to tell the Queen of all the land to her face that she was utterly insane.

To his great surprise though, he had found himself wanting to choose sides in the upcoming conflict he could so clearly see brewing between the Queen Mother and Prince Virgil. More than that, he had wanted to see Virgil win. His reward had been exile.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He was very well aware that without the dragon to protect them both, he would be long dead and Virgil would be some puppet on the throne. They would all be unhappy or worse, a nightmare that he knows Virgil wakes from on a nearly nightly basis.

This thief wants to make that nightmare a reality. Virgil knows this. Virgil has to know this. Still, he wants to show mercy. That mercy is going to get them all killed, unless Logan does something to prevent it. He will play along for now. Until the moment the thief shows his true colours.

Then he will enjoy roasting him to a crisp.

Chapter Text

Logan huffed again, another few wisps of smoke coiling around his head as he examined the thief in front of him as if seeing him for the first time. He is a danger yes, but for some reason Virgil had seen something in him that made him want to give him a chance. Fighting should never be the first choice, and Logan had known that once upon a time. Mental claws scrabbled against the smooth walls of his mind, sleep black without a single handhold. Not for the cage his brain had become, the ruined stone work of the castle. There was nothing he could use to pull himself out bar his own determination, bar Virgil’s unshakable loyalty. Logan will not allow himself to fall into that black pit forever. He is more than the brawn of his unnatural form.

The brown of his eyes darkened slightly, a tiny infusion of colour returning to irises that had become far too pale of late. If Virgil wanted to give this one a chance, then Logan will do the same. Perhaps holding off frying a would be killer will hold off the loss of memory that creeps across his brain like a fungus. At the very least, it will prove educational, he will learn something and hopefully, be entertained along the way. Maybe he won’t eat this one at the end of it all. Virgil should have recovered his strength soon enough and they could simply wipe his memory. Or... or there were other possibilities, other ideas, ones that wouldn’t result in Roman’s death. If he made it past the tests, they would be worth exploring further but it was pointless to speculate on such when he had yet to see any evidence of the thief’s skills. Let him pass the first test and then Logan would consider the future once more.

His words seemed to have taken the wind out of the man’s sails, Roman’s whole body sagging a little as he considered the idea that this might not even be the right castle. Sword dipped down, holding it almost loosely as the thief worked through his options. To his credit, Logan didn't even think about using this moment to his advantage, to taking down this threat. No matter how easy it would have been to simply disarm him.

For all that this Roman seemed to know how to handle his blade, he also seemed so easily distracted, as though he would follow a pretty butterfly or a shiny coin without any concern about where it might lead. He was a strange one.

“When last I looked thief Roman, there was more than one dragon occupying a castle in the world. Perhaps some other holds this prince you speak of? Unless your plan is to attack every dragon you discover in the hopes that the laws of averages will somehow play in your favour? Eventually it is true, you must come across the correct castle, the correct tower, the correct dragon. But statistically, the chances that you have found the right dragon on your first attempt is fairly low.” Logan paused, head rearing back as though a thought had just occurred to him. “Is this your first attempt? Am I your first dragon little thief?”

He looked positively giddy at the thought, a mix of genuine amusement and a clear condescending attitude. There was no other logical explanation for the man’s behavior bar a lack of understanding at what he was facing, a lack of experience in these matters. He had probably never faced anything outside of the classroom, where it was okay to stop and talk and laugh, where the other person waited patiently for you to be ready. The real world was a lot more dirty than that - Logan wondered if this perfectly turned out knight had ever been dirty in his life. An idea occurred to him, one he knew that Virgil wouldn’t approve of. One that he knew he shouldn’t do. It wasn’t the logical response to this man’s actions or the logical follow through to his own intentions. But at the same time he wanted to do it. To play, just a little, to let his own sense of humour out, no matter how warped.

Virgil might not like it but then again, Virgil didn't have to like everything he did - there were many things his prince did that Logan didn't like, such as asking they not end this one right here, right now. Roman may be interesting, may not have attacked him yet but it was only a matter of time. It seemed foolish to waste time and effort on someone who was going to die when he could nip things in the bud. Logan didn't want to grow attached only for him to die as he surely would, because it would be harder for Virgil. He didn't like it but he would go along with it because that's what friends did for one another.

The least Virgil could do was deal with him making a choice he didn't like. It wasn't as though he was going to hurt this Roman and Virgil wasn’t his keeper. He was no slave, bound to obeying the prince no matter what. There were no prisoners here. There wasn’t. There couldn’t be. All he needed to do was get a little closer to Roman, who was still acting as though a duel of words was an acceptable response to a dragon. He had to be new at this.

The probable answer to why Roman was so odd simply created a whole host of new questions without any answers. Why was Virgil interested in this one when he had seen even less of him than Logan? Why would the Queen Mother send out someone so unready though? Was she really that desperate? Had they finally managed to drain the kingdom of all skilled knights? Was there nobody of any talent left and they were resorting to desperation? He wasn't sure now, how he felt about the lack of experience. With Roman it was fine, but what of those who came after? What if they lacked even the basic talent this would be thief had. How was he going to defeat such weaklings and still sleep at night?

He had no desire to see what was after all, properly Virgil’s kingdom become completely helpless, prey to any land hungry predator, looking to swallow it whole. But if it was helpless then not only would they finally be safe but perhaps they could return home. They could save Patton. Virgil’s ancestral castle would make a good lair for a dragon. There were many large rooms he could nest in, plenty of dark, hidden places he could store his treasures in and lots of rooms left over for Virgil to live in, and any servants. Maybe even... maybe even room for Patton himself. Maybe Logan could actually see Patton again. Not that he could allow Patton to see him and realise it was him, who would want to care for a dragon in that manner? And Logan knew without a shred of doubt that he would not be strong enough to handle Patton rejecting him, as he surely would.

They could keep Patton safe though, keep him away from his mother. His prince could rule and Logan could still protect him with all that he was. Guard him. And if need be, take him away again. For Virgil’s own protection. That was all that mattered. Not puns and a smile that could melt ice. Not... feelings.

Roughly, he shook his head, forcing such intrusive thoughts from his mind. He couldn't afford to think like that. Sparks of fire flew from his jaws at the movement, little flashes of white and gold that danced and twisted in the air, a surge of brightness before they were gone once more in a shower of light.

“Stop, you’re confusing me,” Roman complained, his frustration clear to see. “Do you have the prince or not dragon? Wait, do you have a name? You must right, I can't imagine the prince just calling you dragon all this time.”

With a start, Logan realised it reminded him a little of how Virgil talked to him. As though he was a person instead of a threat, as if he was more than the scaly hide that covered him. If it hadn't been for Virgil, he knew he would have succumbed to his dragon urges long ago, would be in some lonely mountain somewhere, curled up on a giant mound of gold and not having to deal with human emotions and worries. He would have crushed this fly the moment he had stepped into his lair.

It set him on edge, to realise how similar this Roman was to his best - only - friend.

Foot was placed back on the ground, gently scratching against the stone, Logan almost idly pawing at it as he considered this new information and what to do with it, how to turn it to his own advantage.

“I had a parent and thus of course I have a name thief Roman, but that is unimportant. Three tests. I will give you a reward after a successful completion of each test and should you complete all three then you will be granted your hearts desire. Easy, even one such as you should be able to follow it.”

Not that Logan had any intention of actually giving this man Virgil. He would only drag him back to the kingdom, to the Queen Mother and Logan would set the world on fire before he allowed that to happen. Then again, it wasn’t as though this Roman had any chance of actually completing all three tasks. Nobody had even come close in the past and there was no evidence to indicate that Roman was any different. He would fail sooner or later and then Virgil wouldn’t have to witness his end and it wouldn’t be Logan’s fault.

“Ah, so you admit to being the foul captor of the handsome Prince?” Roman said, a triumphant smile on his face as though he had caught Logan out by some clever trickery. It made him want to roll his eyes, the brown that had so recently injected some colour in them starting to fade away once more. Movements were positively feline as he took a couple of steps towards him, halving the distance between them, head dipped a little once more so he was almost of an equal eye level to the man.

“I do no such thing,” Logan hissed, suddenly annoyed at this bugs persistence. Why couldn't he just attack like anyone else would have done long ago? Or simply accept the tests on offer instead of this... near conversation they were having. It had elements of an argument but at the same time it didn't seem to be one. Not the sort that he dimly remembered his parents having, when plates would be thrown and voices raised to near screams as they fought through the night on this trivial matter and then that. He huffed, thick smoke curling out from his nostrils as he fought with visible difficulty to rein in his temper.

“I merely offered you a challenge and the promise of a reward. If I am not the dragon you seek then I shall guide you to the correct dragon and offer you advice on how to defeat it. And if I am... well, that's where the fun begins. So, what say you thief Roman? Are you willing to embark on another grand quest and overcome three trials to prove yourself? A gauntlet of sorts,” Logan offered, watching him carefully in the hope of gleaming some hint as to his thoughts. Roman frowned, apparently considering the offer carefully, the first real serious expression he had seen on the man’s face. It looked odd on his features, and although Logan couldn’t quite say why, he found he didn’t quite like it. Almost as though it didn’t belong and he knew it.

“I will not hurt innocents. Do not even attempt to try and trick me,” Roman warned him sternly, still standing tall and looking every inch the dashing hero he so clearly wanted to be.

In turn, Logan badly wanted to try and trick him. Not because he wanted to cause any harm to any innocents - a voice in the back of his head wondered who these innocents even were and why he should care either way about what happened to them. That voice had been growing steadily louder over the past year and it chimed in now, whispering that there was no such thing as innocents. There was those who knew about him and those that didn’t. Currently, the villagers he had in mind didn’t know he existed - if Roman told them however, then they would know. And while they might fall to worshiping him as an Old God, it was far more likely they would spread the world of where he was. Roman would have spent a while hunting for him before stumbling on the castle, whereas others would know instantly where to go. They might even organize a mob and even ants could swam and defeat a much larger enemy if the numbers were high enough. The villagers were a threat therefore and should be - if not killed - then encouraged to move further away and give him a wider area of security.

But that wasn’t why he wanted to trick him, Logan reminded himself, it wasn’t the reason that he felt that urge to mess with Roman rise in him. He wanted to trick him purely out of a sense of being contrary, purely because someone had said not to. Like a little child being told not to do something and wanting to do it all the more.

Hardly logical but then did logic really have to play a part in every choice he made? The voice in his head certainly thought he gave too much power to it, listened to that over its own suggestions. As always, it was the thought of Virgil that brought him back to his senses. Tricking him would be amusing for a little while but Virgil was bound to find out and then he would look at him with those dark eyes and although he wouldn’t say anything, Logan would see the pain he had caused there. There was too much sorrow in his eyes already, too much weight on his shoulders for someone of his age. Logan didn’t want to add to it, no matter what other urges he might have in him.

“There is a village, two hours north,” Logan told the little thief, making sure to say every word slowly and carefully. He didn't want the man to accuse him of trying to trick him further and really, he didn't want him to misunderstand. After all, this Roman had asked a dragon to come down to his level in order to fight fair, had thought he could defeat him with a tiny bit of metal, had looked him in the eye without flinching as if he wasn’t dangerous. Logan really didn't rate his intelligence particularly highly.

“A village?” Roman asked, interrupting Logan’s train of thought.

“Yes, that is what I said, do keep up. Recently it has attracted the attentions of a group of wandering ogres who have decided to settle in the region for a while, at a nearby cave. They are systematically stipping the village bare of its livestock, houses and people. The lucky ones are killed outright. They have no money, no warriors of their own. Your first test will be saving these people from the ogres, in whatever manner you see fit. Once you have, you will return with proof, and without telling anyone I am here.”

“You... you want me to go and help people?” Roman asked, voice suspiciously flat. There was no hint of the flamboyant knight that had so recently pouted and stomped around the courtyard, or of the brave man who had ridden in atop his magnificent horse, sword drawn. He stared at Logan with naked suspicion in his eyes, as though seeing him for the first time and realising he was talking to a supposedly evil creature. “But you’re a dragon? Why do you want me to save a village, what do you gain from it?”

Ah, there it was. He clearly believed there was some other reason at play here, some ulterior motive as to why Logan wanted to help the village and get rid of the ogres. Logan didn’t want him to refuse the test. The village needed saving and who better to do it than someone who already believed himself a hero? It was technically part of Virgil’s kingdom which meant that Virgil had a duty to see that it was protected and since Logan could hardly show up himself and he wasn’t about to let Virgil risk himself by showing his face to anyone, so all that left was Roman. He could hardly tell him that though.

“I have no desire for a village of humans to become a village of orges,” Logan told him at last, searching for something that was hopefully close enough to the truth to be believable. “I had no interest in them as they are but orges might be a threat to me.”

Roman dropped his gaze to the ground, still frowning as he thought about it. He was utterly distracted from the fact there was still an enormous dragon in front of him. Even if Logan hadn’t been considering playing with him, he knew he would have been unable to resit that insult. As if he wasn’t worth even keeping an eye on. How was this one even alive, honestly. Logan crossed the final few feet between them silently, moving without warning and too fast for the thief to be able to properly react. In a flash he had coiled around Roman, strong body wrapping around chest and arm, forcing the sword harmlessly to the ground and trapping him in place.

It took effort not to look in the direction he knew Virgil was lurking, not to betray them both by revealing his location. Not to see through the dark at the wounded expression Virgil was sure to be wearing, the sorrow that was so close to settling for good on him. He didn't want his prince to think he had changed the rules but he needed this infuriating man to leave. Pressure was building up behind his eyes, that same itch between his wings returning with a vengeance, all mixing with the weight that was in his chest, that feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

Behind them, the horse neighed in panic, rearing up and skittering away. Hopefully not too far, but Logan was committed to this course of action now and he would let Roman worry about how he was going to get to the village if the horse ran off. Roman’s fault for not training it better or even getting off the thing in the first place. Even Logan would have had difficulty in restraining a man wielding a sword, on a horse. Instead, Roman had pretty much begged him to do this, had all but offered himself up as a toy to be played with.

In his grip, he could feel Roman struggling to break free, fighting against a much stronger body than his own, the man unable to even get his arm free. Logan let him struggle uselessly for a few moments, let him have his chance and think that he had at least tried.

“We could fight instead,” he suggested once Roman had calmed down a little, voice as smooth as silk. “I fear it would be rather one sided like this and not what I had in mind for you, but if you desire death...” Logan trailed off, letting the words hang in the air, the implication there for even Roman to pick up on.

To his immense satisfaction, he saw Roman swallow heavily, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“No...” Roman whispered, the faintest quiver in his voice. “I would rather save the village.”

Finally. A reaction he could understand. Fear. Logan could almost taste it in the air around them, a charged, tart little thing that he wanted to sink his teeth into and just bathe in the emotion. To be feared, as he should be, it was a reaction that as well as being satisfying, should have cheered him up and washed away all the negative feelings that were buzzing around his head.

It did nothing to settle the growing unease in his chest however, a weight that was growing steadily heavier and heavier because at the end of the day it didn't matter that Roman was scared of him. Logan was still going to let him go, still going to allow him to go through the crumbling arches of the outer wall of the castle and just trust that he wasn't going to run right back to the Queen Mother with his tail between his legs and tell her everything that had happened.

He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t carry on playing nice as if he was still human. Logan didn’t know how much longer he could control himself, how to temper down those urges which were growing stronger all the time. The instinct in him that was all dragon was yearning to do something - anything - other than just talk and be civilized. To have a thief so close, in his literal grip and yet let him go... it was almost too much to bare.

As quickly as he had wrapped himself around Roman, he was pulling away again, putting a few meters of distance between them. Perhaps some part of him had hoped that the male would take his actions as the provocation they were supposed to be and attack to end this game. Aside from lifting his sword once more, this time into a defensive pose, Roman made no move to attack. He seemed to genuinely intend to do the tests. As though he actually believed Logan’s words.

Logan lifted a paw, extending a claw with dignity, as though it was a hand for someone to shake. This was going to end terribly and yet he found himself asking the question once more all the same.

“Do we have a deal, thief Roman?”

“Fine,” Roman replied at last, holding out his hand to grip the claw, jaw set firmly. “We have a deal.”

Chapter Text

From his spot at the window, Virgil could see everything that was happening but he was too far away to hear more than the odd snatches, brought to him by the favourable winds. He could see the way they argued back and forth and the way the stranger was waving his sword around as though it was some stick or a toy instead of a deadly weapon. Virgil lifted a hand to his mouth, swallowing down the snort that wanted to slip free at the frankly ludicrous behaviour of the knight. He didn’t know why he wanted to save the life of this one, his behaviour was stupid and it was already starting to annoy him. And make him laugh apparently.

Heaven help him, did he find it annoying? Or... cute?

The knight said something, Logan literally steaming at the nostrils in response, smoke rising up around him.

Annoying. Definitely annoying.

Although the fact he was able to get a rise out of Logan so effortlessly was both worrying and interesting. Lately, he had seemed curiously detached from all the events going on around him and even the occasional knight attack had resulted in little more than a quick fight. He hadn’t actually talked to one of them in a long time and Virgil had to hope it was a good thing.

He also had to hope that Logan wouldn’t give in to the very obvious desire he had to just eat the man and be done with it. The knight caught both their attentions, for different reasons and Virgil wanted to find out exactly why. There was something about this stranger that compelled him to new thoughts and ideas, something about the infuriating looking man that Virgil needed to understand. Which was going to be a little hard with Logan wrapped around the man, tight enough to pop him open. Virgil jerked forward at the sight of it, fingers curling into tight fists as he stopped himself from interfering.

They had come to an agreement, the pair of them and Virgil had promised, no matter what, he would never enter the courtyard unless he was confident he could cast his spell to wipe memories and he had no intention of doing that to this one. He couldn’t break his word, couldn’t betray his friend like that, not for someone he didn’t even know the name of. What was that strange, unidentified emotion and desire compared to all the years of friendship with Logan? Compared to everything they had given up for each other?

Virgil let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as Logan finally released the knight, the pair seeming to have come to some sort of agreement, even going so far as to shake hands on it. The knight turned to calm his horse, climbing back atop the white stallion with a grace and poise that Virgil envied a little bit. He had never been very good at any of the traditional aspects of being a prince, riding horses, greeting other royals, general chit chat about nothing that was boring in the extreme. It had been next to impossible for Virgil to get through anything like that without revealing the desire to stab yourself in the leg just to get out of another conversation about the latest fashion trends in the horse market.

Just thinking about it brought him out in a cold sweat, the detailed and exhausting conversations which could last a whole royal function and cover nothing more than which two shades of yellow worked best against a specific horse. There was no visible difference between the shades as far as he could tell and certainly the horse didn't seem motivated to go faster if it was draped in a colour that it apparently liked.

If it wasn't for Logan saving him, he would probably be seated at a banquet right now, having to politely listen to Lord Bowes or someone just like him waffling on about that exact subject, or whatever the newest craze among the elite actually was. Not for the first time, Virgil found himself silently thanking Logan for not leaving him behind.

When he became King - assuming any of his plans actually worked, assuming he could free himself of his hateful step mother's influence, assuming there was such a thing as happy endings and he knew what people said about those that assume, making an ass out of you and me - he was going to lift the restrictions on the topics you were allowed to discuss at such events. The idea that the rules forbid you from talking about anything meaningful or important was just ridiculous. All out of fear that deals might be concluded over the clinking of the cutlery and the intoxicating aroma of delicious food.

That boat had sailed long ago. Nothing of any importance was decided at the negotiating table, not anymore. It was all underhand deals and whispers in the night. Far better to allow people the chance to talk normally, to turn dinner into something other than an endurance test and try and push decision making back into the light. He would have a council, he would have talks, honest debates and things would get better. They had too. Once he was King.

He was going to do a lot of things if he ever became King, and he had learnt so much since leaving the castle, since his eyes were opened and he learnt actual things about the world. He was still the same, anxious mess he had always been, still worried about the slightest little thing, still overthinking every choice given to him. His social skills had managed to get even worse with only a dragon to talk to day in, day out. Virgil could barely remember the correct order in which to use all the cutlery that was laid out on a table at receptions or the right number of steps one was supposed to take before dipping into a bow for someone of equal rank to you.

Despite all that however, in some strange way, Virgil had grown more confident. Not obviously perhaps, but he had been given the chance to do his own research and come to his own conclusions about the state of his kingdom. He knew what he wanted and he had developed an inner strength, had built on his stubbornness so hopefully, one day, he would be able to say what he wanted, explain how it would be for the best for his people - and mean it too, what was more.

Virgil hoped his father would be proud of the man he was growing up to become. Then again, Virgil refused to return to his home, to his destiny. For all his fine thoughts about wanting to do what was right for his people, they were just that. Thoughts. Thoughts and dreams with no way to back them up. He didn’t trust the woman his father had chosen to marry, in fact he out right hated her. As much as it hurt to think it, Virgil had to be a realist and the realist in him told him that far from being proud, his father would be ashamed.

That hurt.

He couldn't let himself follow this train of thought any further, couldn't follow this dark idea down the warren that was his mind. That way madness lay.

Much better to obsess over that worry at three in the morning, when he couldn't sleep and the world seemed turned against him. Virgil had more pressing matters to attend to right now, watching as the knight vanished out of sight, kicking up dust as he galloped off on whatever quest Logan had set for him and as the sound of hooves faded into the distance, Virgil started to make his way into the courtyard, eager to talk to Logan. He wanted to hear every detail, wanted to know what his would be rescuer was like, and what he had said to get Logan so worked up in the first place. He wanted to make sure Logan was okay before he went back to researching possible cures.

Mostly, he just wanted to look Logan in the face and know it was his friend looking back.

It took time to weave through the labyrinth of tunnels that would lead him out onto the courtyard and sure, he could have climbed out of the window but what if he broke it further and changed things. Things had changed so much already.

There was another change waiting for him when he finally stumbled out into the light of the courtyard, the last dying embers of the setting sun casting long shadows on the ground.

Logan wasn't there anymore, wasn't waiting for him. Logan always waited for him after an encounter with a knight, no matter how it turned out. They would talk, and if need be, comfort each other. It was what they always did and now Logan was gone. Changing the rules once more, shifting the ground under Virgil’s feet.

Alteratering the landscape just like stone flicked off a window. Things were changing all around him and he hated it. His decision to spare the knight had been the first pebble of the avalanche and it seemed far too late to alter the course of the thunderous cascade of rocks that were baring down directly on his head. But had the choice been that first fateful twist? Had it really been a choice at all? There had been something about the knight, something that had tugged incessantly on his soul, a demand that he had no choice but to listen to. Something had changed in that moment, something new, before he had lifted a hand to his necklace to speak to Logan. The moment hooves had clattered across the stone floor of the outer castle, everything had changed. Time would tell if it was for a good or bad reason.

And now both he and Logan were gone, leaving Virgil alone.

Virgil ran forward, eyes scanning the sky frantically, hoping for some sign of Logan, some hint of where he had gone. The hope that perhaps he had just returned to one of the towers to rest and nurse his wounded feelings was fleeting, shattered by the sound of heavy wings beating in the air and the sight of Logan flying over the castle walls, in the opposite direction to the knight.

Hand lifted to roughly grab at the stone that always hung around his neck, Virgil letting the cool, smooth surface relax him slightly. Certain edges had become ever so slightly worn with use, something so slight that only someone as intimately familiar with the purple stone as Virgil was, could probably have picked up on. He could feel the changes however. The way the stone seemed to slot so perfectly into his hand, the subtle grooves where fingers had gripped it time and time again. It was a soft stone and over the years he had owned it, it had become moulded to his own hand.

Holding it always gave him a degree of comfort and Virgil certainly needed it now as he used it to reach out, trying to call to his friend through the power of the twin stones, wanting to understand what was going on and where he was flying to.

“Logan?”

Silence answered him. Virgil frowned, staring at the rapidly shrinking form of Logan as he flew further and further away. He still had the stone wrapped around his leg, Virgil would have known if it had been damaged somehow or lost. It had been attached before the encounter with the knight. He breathed out heavily, trying to keep himself calm as he called out again.

“Logan, please, answer me. Are you okay?”

Once more, nothing but silence greeted him. It was a sharp kind of silence, the sort that reminded him of the rare times they had fought and Logan had deliberately turned his back on him, effectively snubbing him. He was ignoring him. Virgil couldn’t help the small pang of pain that struck him at that thought, but there didn’t seem to be any other explanation. Nothing was wrong with the connection and he could almost sense the dragon at the end of the line, as though he could hear every pleading word that Virgil was saying but choosing to ignore it. It was probably well deserved after everything Virgil had just done, his demand that they go against the norm and not instantly roast the do gooder.

Still, Virgil didn’t regret sparing the knight’s life. Even if this was the cost. He just hoped this was all it would cost him, and that his friend would come back sooner rather than later. He hoped that Logan could forgive him, that his choice wouldn’t come back to haunt them both. More than anything, he hoped that the strange feeling within him had been something trustworthy. He hoped with everything he was, that the knight hadn’t ridden out of the castle gates and set course for home, that he wasn’t going to return at the head of an army.

Wishes didn’t change the reality and how he was reduced once again, to impotency, his fate reliant on the whims of others. There was nothing he could do but watch as the large black dragon vanished into the twilight. There was something breathtaking about the sight of Logan framed by the setting sun, something he might have enjoyed if he wasn't so worried for him. Virgil wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself forlornly as he stared up at the sky, long after both knight and dragon had gone, long after the sun had set and the cold wind was nipping at his legs.

Chapter Text

As was so often the case, it was the sound of wings that woke him.

The dreams had been vague, unpleasant things. Voices and shakes swirling around him in black fog, sound like hundreds of crickets chirping in the night, mindling together at too low a frequency for him to understand any actual words. The shades remained incorporeal, refusing to form into things he recognized for more than a few seconds, but the little flashes were enough to set him on edge.

They rippled around him, shifting between extremes, one moment pressing up against him so hot that he felt as though he was burning and the next ice cold, so cold it stole his breath away completely. He was dying in the moments, and while he couldn’t hear the words being said, Virgil could understand the overall intent, the meaning behind the sounds, the emotions that bubbled up like giant high pressure geysers from the ground. The anger, the hate, the fear. So many looked at him and felt spine chilling fear, they saw him as a monster. Worse than that though, far worse than even that, was the strongest feeling that filled the spectres beyond bursting point. The overwhelming disappointment.

He was sorry, so, so, so very sorry, please, he was sorry. The pleading didn't make a blind bit of difference of course, that disappointment stifling, pressing tightly against him and he was drowning in the cloying thickness of it. The thud, thud, thud of heavy wings swept through his dream, wind suddenly picking up around him. The sudden gust of air seemed to blow away the cobwebs that were spun around him, pushing back the shades and voices for a moment. They regrouped a few feet away from where Virgil was cowering, a murmur of voices as the figures turned and talked to each other, debating what to do. They would come again, he just knew it. The wings couldn’t protect him forever, they would come close once more and press up against him with all the hot and cold, all the emotions that wanted to bury him alive. They were amassing once more already, a mere breath of freedom before they wanted to return.

The wings flapped again.

Virgil jolted upright, the book he had been sleeping on flying upwards with him, page pressed against his skin. A small patch of drool was wet and sticky against his cheek, the book slowly sliding down his face to tumble back on the desk, miraculously staying open at the page he had fallen asleep on. His back twinged in protest at the sudden movement and the uncomfortable position he had managed to fall asleep in, Virgil biting back a groan at the sensation.

He stood slowly, stretching out and blinking owlishly as his brain tried to work what was going on, torn between the adrenaline that was still pumping through him and trying to move past that into some kind of understanding of the now. The dream still clung to him, shadows dipping and weaving with every blink. They shimmered in the candlelight and it took longer than it should, for Virgil to push them aside and see his world once more. He rolled his neck, feeling the joints pop and crack, Virgil going so far as to rub at his eyes with a hand.

It was still dark out, the candle by the window flickering madly against the current of the night sky. Either he had been asleep for over a day or barely any time at all and while Virgil liked the idea of being asleep for that long he doubted he would be that lucky, or that Logan would have let him get away with it.

Eyes fell on the book he had been reading Virgil giving a harsh scoffing sound at the sight of it. Another wasted effort, another twist and turn in the maze that had ended up being a dead end. It had started out so promising too. So many chapters on the history of curses, on the way they had evolved and grown over the centuries. Those chapters had had led into actual, practical examples of curses and they had covered such a wide range, far more than any other book he had read. If he was into the darker arts for that reason, Virgil would probably have been delighted by it. But what wasn't what he wanted. As amusing as it was to imagine the Queen Mother as some statue or to have her changed into a tree that might bring pleasure to people, he wanted to know how to break curses.

The very last two chapters had covered that. Briefly. In frustrating vague and catch all terms. References to various charms that were supposed to ward off curses, ways in which to break easy curses - and really, he might not be good for much when it came to his magic but he had learnt how to remove magical boils before his tenth birthday. Slowly however, the book had started to pick up steam, only to betray him by not actually following through on any of its promises.

Instead, it had simply ended with some cryptic comment about ‘the strongest of magic’ being the only sure fire way to break a curse and the good news was it would break any curse, no matter how strong. The bad news was it gave no hint as to what it meant by the ‘strongest' of magic. What on earth was it? Did it mean you had to be the strongest magic user and then could just snap your fingers to undo any curse? No, that didn't sound right. There was no way to know if you were the strongest and it was such a subjective term anyway, arbitrary and thus meaningless. It had to mean a type of magic, but even then, Virgil drew a blank. Each type of magic had its own strengths and weakness and thus complemented each other instead of overpowered. Magic which tapped into nature was strong but weak against the magic which tapped into the elements who in turn were weak to earth magic. None of those were the strongest.

Victory had been so close, near enough for Virgil to almost taste it, only to have it snatched away from him at the very last second and if only there had been one more page. One more paragraph even, that had bothered to explain what it meant. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a puzzle he should be able to solve. If Logan was still human, still as sharp and as witty as he had ever been, then Virgil knew he would have worked out what the words meant in an instant. He might still know of course, but his thoughts rarely shifted towards magic these days, waving it away with the claim that magic was Virgil’s field of expertise, not his own. That would never have stopped Logan in the past, he would have seen a lack of knowledge as a challenge, a hill to climb and overcome.

It was Logan’s bad luck, his curse, that he should be doomed to rely on someone as stupid as Virgil.

He had fallen asleep, still pondering the problem and waking up didn’t inspire the answer to come jumping to the forefront of his mind, all neatly unwrapped and laid out in easy, achievable stages. What was worse, that was he was sure he should know it. Almost as though he had heard it once before and forgotten about it, or he had read it on a page, skimming over it without a second thought. Thinking like that wasn’t going to help him however, wasn’t practical. He just needed to work it out, or find another book with an actual, useful answer, if he was ever going to help his friend. With the thought of Logan, finally, the end of his dream came into focus, Virgil remembering the sound that had chased away the monsters trying to destroy him.

Wings.

He had heard wings.

Logan was back. Even in his dreams, his subconscious recognised Logan as the hero he really was and reacted accordingly. A grin spread across his face, something bright and almost carefree, the worries of the moment temporary receding at the thought that his friend had come home. He rushed to the window of his room, peering outside.

It was cliche perhaps, to have his bedroom in a tower considering he is not in need of rescue from the dragon that also lived here but the room had been one of the better preserved ones, small and cozy and unlike the other two towers, not open to the elements. Logan had done a little bit of damage to the roof during his encounter with the knight but was nothing a little bit of magic wouldn’t fix. From his tower, the middle of the three, he could see the whole of the castle, the courtyard, the ramparts, the path that stretched out and vanished off into the distance in the direction the still nameless knight had left in.

Best of all, he could see the dragon. Logan was stood on his hind legs in the middle of the courtyard, his back to Virgil’s tower as his head bent over something. Whatever he was holding, it clearly fascinated him, completely holding his attention. A few moments passed and then Logan turned, slowly ambling towards the main part of the castle, his profile thrown into sharp relief. Something glittered in Logan’s front claws, the grin sliding off Virgil’s face as he caught sight of it.

It was as though all the shadows from his dream were back in the real world with him as he watched Logan slither through the broken doors of the main entrance, vanishing into the dark and the hoard Virgil certainly didn’t know existed. If he just ignored it and pretended he didn’t know about it, then maybe he didn’t have to deal with it. Maybe it wasn’t nearly as bad as his overactive imagination sometimes painted it because he had never gone into the main entrance and down the slightly crushed stairs and through the dragon shaped door to have a look at the treasure. It could just be the tiny handful of items he had actually witnessed Logan returning with, his friend always so secretive, almost ashamed.

Or, it could be a lot, lot more.

Virgil stumbled backwards from the window, turning to scan his room frantically and he needed to do something. Anything. There had to be a way to help tonight, to chase away the song of gold. Eyes fell on the book they had been reading together and it wasn’t much - it was barely anything in fact - but perhaps it would be enough. He grabbed it as he ran, not even bothering to close the door behind him, almost falling over his own feet as he stumbled down the winding staircase and out across the courtyard.

It was only as he neared the main entrance that he began to slow down, and Virgil didn’t want it to be too obvious that he had seen more than he should. He didn’t want to admit to Logan that he was well aware of what he was doing on those nights he was overcome by the urges his dragon form had created. Virgil only hoped he hadn’t hurt anyone when he had stolen it, he really didn’t want to have that conversation, to know that Logan had fallen so far. Maybe it would be better though? Maybe he was supposed to confront Logan about this and if Logan admitted it was happening, then they could work together to stop it. Or maybe confronting him would mean Logan didn’t have to hide it anymore and it would just get worse as a result.

It would be nice, if just once, Virgil could have a thought without having to turn to the darker, more pessimistic side of things. If he could just be optimistic. Then again, Patton was the literal opposite of him, refused to see the bad or negative in anyone or any action and things hadn’t exactly turned out any better for him either.

Virgil really hoped Patton was okay.

If the knight came back from his quest, maybe Virgil could ask him about Patton. He still didn’t want to marry the other man but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried or that his heart didn’t ache bad enough, he was amazed it hadn’t broken into thousands of little splinters at the thought of him, left alone in the castle. First though, there was Logan to take care of, Virgil pausing by the doorframe and peering uncertainty into the dark. Arms were wrapped around the book in his arms, hugging it close against his chest.

“Logan?” Virgil called out, his voice echoing through the large area. For the longest moment, nothing happened, his heart sinking even lower into his chest as he listened forlornly, head dropping a little the longer time stretched on without any answer from his friend.

Out of nowhere, a heavy exhale sounded through the room, a trail of fire sparking into life and hitting some of the many candles that littered the room, lighting it up in an instant and Virgil suddenly found himself staring across a room at a distinctly unimpressed dragon. Slowly, Logan padded towards him, Virgil shuffling forward at the same time, wanting to meet him part way.

Logan stared down at him when they were close enough they could almost touch, eyes so pale. Too pale. It was like looking up at a stranger, Virgil swallowing heavily, his mind scrabbling frantically for a way to fix this, to bring back his friend. It wasn’t the first time he had been forced to try and drag Logan back from the abyss and as much as it pained him to think, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Well. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last time, because the last time would be the time he failed, the time Logan didn't come back to himself.

He wasn’t going to fail. He was going to bring him back for another day, if nothing else. He could do this at least. Logan lifted a paw to scratch at his face, a nonplussed expression on it.

“You should be sleeping, my prince.”

That was a bad sign. He needed Logan to use his name, to be reminded of who he was, not what he was. His name always seemed to help ground Logan, to look at him and see friend instead of treasure. He bit at his bottom lip in thought, trying to work out what he was going to say.

“I couldn't sleep,” Virgil replied, a half truth at best. He shifted slightly, the weight of the book in his arms reassuring, grounding him in turn.Normally, Logan would have asked about the book by now, and that in itself was another bad sign, the weight suddenly feeling less comforting as that thought took hold. He hurried on, not wanting to give it more power over him than it already had, trying to grip onto the stubbornness that had kept him going through the roughest of patches.

“I thought I could read to you,” Virgil offered, holding the book out towards the dragon. To his dismay, Logan barely looked at his offering, a mere flicker of eyes down towards it as though it wasn’t anything important.

“I am rather busy, my prince,” Logan told him, already starting to turn away, his thoughts no doubt turning back to gold, and no, Virgil couldn’t lose him, not like this, not tonight. Not another change on top of everything else that had happened. His world was already seeming to spin out of control. Not the worst change of his life.

“Please Logan!” Virgil pleaded frantically, his words freezing Logan in place, the dragon half turned, body slightly twisted. An ear flickered, twitching slightly to let him know that he was listening at least, even if his gaze was still off into the darker areas of the room. Virgil swallowed softly, fingers tightening against the cover of the book, the tips going white with the pressure he was inflecting on it, pressure he could feel running all the way through his body.

“Please, I... I don't want to be alone right now.”

Emotional manipulation was a low blow, but he was desperate. Emotions might also be something Logan would frequently deny having, but Virgil knew better. His friend felt just as deeply as anyone he had ever met. Deeper in fact, because while he might outwardly deny that he had them and act as though they were a failing only other people suffered from, Logan based so many of his choices on feelings bound up with logic. While it was logical to support his best friend because his friend also so happened to be the next ruler, it wasn’t logical to support him to the point of self destruction and yet Logan constantly did because he was a good friend, because he placed value in the emotional bond they had. Nor was it logical to fall in love with someone at all, let alone someone technically engaged to another despite both of them not wanting it. Only someone emotional would have bothered to save Virgil in the first place. Logan was just better at hiding his feelings than most people, and, because those same most people were normally idiots, they just assumed that he didn’t have any.

He knew that hurt his friend.

Slowly, Logan turned his head back to meet his gaze once more. As he had hoped, Logan’s expression softened slightly, pale brown seeping back into his eyes. Nowhere near as dark and as vibrant as he would have liked of course, but there were colour in them once more and that meant the world in this moment.

“Very well... Virgil.” Logan cast one, slightly longing look back in the direction of the dark and the secret hoard that lurked there before focusing all his attention back on him. “Just let me get comfortable.”

That made Virgil smile at last, letting go of the breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding, because he knew what that really meant. It was more than just Virgil perched on something that wasn’t a chair, reading aloud to Logan until his throat was sore. This was something far, far better. He ducked his head a little, smile growing as he loosened his hold on the book, one hand slipping free. If he was going to read, then he was going to need more light than than the torches.

With careful, deliberate movements, he twisted his fingers, conjuring the shape for light, soft whispered words to summon some help. Virgil felt the spark as it sprang into life, the way the power seemed to run through his body and leap out of his fingers, a orb of light softly humming beside him. It’s light was warm without being harsh, floating beside him. It was something he had created, something that proved he had magic. If only he could create more than a single ball of light at any one time.

Virgil shook his head violently, pale strands of hair falling even further into his eyes as he roughly pushed away those thoughts, Virgil refusing to allow them purchase on him for any longer. Tonight was a good night, scavenged from the ruins of a terrible evening and he wasn’t going to let reality get in the way of that.

When he looked back up, Logan had managed to curl up against the mountain of pillows and blankets they had dragged in here - just thinking about the magic spend summoning, creating and transporting them all made his arm ache a little - turning the back of the hall into a surprisingly comfortable dragon’s den. Only instead of gold, he slept on soft comfort, and instead of being alone, he left a space for Virgil to climb up on, the prince instantly taking the unspoken invitation. He clambered up along the spinal ridges along Logan’s back, moving with the grace and ease born of experience. Even one handed, it was easy for him to climb and then slide down a little, curling up against Logan, who lifted his large tail, wrapping it around both Virgil and himself.

For a little while, all was quiet as Virgil leaned against the side of his friend, idly flicking through the book as he looked for the last page they had read, the magical orb glowing softly beside him.

“What was he like?” Virgil asked lowly, eyes still fixed on the book. He could feel Logan’s gaze on him, cheeks growing hot in response although Virgil didn't know why. It took everything not to hunch further into his clothes or to outwardly betray any other discomfort. Why he had asked in the first place, why it even mattered and why he was so embarrassed, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that something - the same something that had wanted to save him in the first place - inside of him wanted to learn more.

“The knight?” Logan paused for a moment, considering the question carefully. Thinking, remaining himself and Virgil internally gave a little cheer at that. “Bold, brash... irritating. I sent him to help a village.”

He nodded slowly to show he had understood, carefully turning another page in the book, staring at the words blankly.

“What was his name?” Virgil tried to keep his voice pitched as low as before, as calm, as though he was just making casual conversation. Logan gave a deep sigh, the vibrations running through them both, a low rumble that made the hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand on end.

“Virgil... you mustn’t become attached. You know how it will end, he will die or we will be forced to wipe his memory. There is no point in learning his name.”

He hated how soft Logan’s voice had become. How it wavered between caring and condescending. All he wanted was to know the man’s name, Virgil wasn’t asking permission to go on a date with him. He wouldn’t want that. He huffed, blowing a few strands of hair away from his face, frustration only building as it fell right back into place, over his eyes. Normally he liked that, but right now it just represented his inability to do anything meaningful - Virgil might not want his life to change in any proper way but that didn’t mean he liked this sensation of being completely stuck in the mud, unable to even move a muscle.

He didn't want his life to change. He didn't.

Did he?

Was it so wrong to just want to know his name? Virgil ignored the little whisper in the back of his mind, the annoyingly rational part of himself that pointed out the name was just the start and the really he wanted to learn a lot more about the handsome knight.

“I was only asking his name Logan, not his life story. I’m curious, so what? It’s been a while since there was anyone new around here worth talking to. And he... I dunno, he seemed like... like he could become worthy,” He admitted, trailing off with an awkward sigh and shrug, not even sure himself what he really wanted from the conversation.

Everything? More than he had? He was greedy, selfish, to want more when he was the luckiest prince alive to have as much as he did. Freedom of a sort, a friend, safety. What more did he need when what he had provided so much already?

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, and Virgil felt another shudder run through his friend's form. Logan pressed even closer, winding himself around him as though seeking to keep him in place. Despite that, Virgil didn’t feel any fear at being so close to him. He didn’t feel trapped or worried or anything like that.

He wasn’t afraid of him.

Afraid for Logan yes. But never because of him. Even if the worst happened, he would never be afraid of the dark scaled dragon.

“Do you... do you desire to be rescued?” Logan asked after a long pause.

“What? And go back to the castle, to that witch? No thank you,” Virgil replied with a snort, finally finding the page he had been looking for.

“No,” Logan said, a huff of hot air blowing across the back of his neck. Something about the way he said that word finally caused Virgil to look up. Logan’s face was a lot closer than he had expected it to be, the long neck of his form enabling him to remain still and still move closer all at the same time. There was a worried expression on his features, eyes browner than before. It should be a good thing and yet Virgil couldn’t help but feel it was the exact opposite. Those brown eyes closed for a moment, as though gathering some strength, before he carried on, feeling out each word carefully.

“I meant... if you could live somewhere else. Somewhere safer, without a fire breathing dragon hovering over you. If you could let that Roman save you, perhaps he would believe the truth. He could take you somewhere where you could be truly safe, from everything. From me...”

Virgil shook his head furiously, book forgotten for the moment and while he had wanted to learn more about the knight - about Roman, and what a stupid name, a name that certainly didn’t send a shiver of delight running through him at the mere sound - he hadn’t wanted to hurt Logan in the process. Never that. And he certainly hadn’t wanted to imply that he was dissatisfied with his life at all. He would pick Logan in a heartbeat. He would always pick Logan and he was a terrible friend to have let him think otherwise, especially after he had been hurt so much simply for being in his life.

“Logan. You’re my best friend, you’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want to be anywhere, if that anywhere is without you, okay?” He told him firmly, his heart clenching in pain at the thought that the brown had returned out of sorrow instead of any positive emotion. He hadn’t realised he could bring Logan back to himself like that and in all honesty, he would have been quite happy to have never learnt that. His friend didn’t seem convinced however.

“Logan,” Virgil repeated, the name making the dragon nuzzle closer. He reached out, one hand running up and down his snout, even as he pressed close in turn, hugging him as hard as he could. It wasn’t easy, not when it was impossible to actually get his arms around Logan’s large body. The best he could manage was a hug against him, trying to will all his love, all his emotions into that physical gesture, trying to convey everything his stupid tongue couldn’t.

“You’re where I want to live. Okay?”

“Okay,” Logan agreed, voice a little choked. When Virgil tilted his head a little to look up at him, he was relieved to see the brown still in his eyes, looking happy instead of in pain.

“Now,” he added, clearing his throat a couple of times, to clear away the emotion Virgil knew he would certainly deny feeling, a small grin growing on his face at the sound. It was so very... Logan. “I believe you were going to read, were you not?”

“Right, of course,” Virgil agreed, flipping the book back open, finding the page faster this time without any pesky thoughts to distract him. He started to read, reading long into the night, the chapter on various sea life. Somewhere along the way, Logan fell asleep, his breathing rocking his whole form, including Virgil. It wasn’t long before he too slipped into slumber, still curled up safely against his friend.

Chapter Text

A day passed.

And then another.

And another.

The fourth day was coming to a close without any sign from the bug and Logan was starting to become a little anxious.

They hadn’t heard a single thing from the village either, no clue as to if Roman had even visited it, let alone if he had managed to clear the ogres from the area or if he had been slain in the attempt. For all he knew, the knight had smiled, agreed to his face and then ridden as fast as he could back to the castle to report everything to the Queen Mother. It would take Logan a little over a day to reach the castle at a fast speed. A horse wasn’t nearly as fast as him, but four days was more than enough time for Roman to have returned to the castle, reported everything and be setting back out again, this time with a large mob to kill him and steal Virgil away.

It was his own fault for not following him at the time. He had just been so overwhelmed by everything, so lost in the feeling of tooth and claw, he knew if he had followed Roman there and then, the sight of the village would have been just too much to resist. He would have razed it to the ground in an act of animalistic fury and everything would have been destroyed with it. Not following him had been the only logical choice with his thoughts in such turmoil but he was paying the price for it now.

There was no other way for it. He was going to have to fly over there and try and work out what he could without hopefully being discovered. Screaming villagers was the last thing he wanted - so he had to keep reminding himself, had to keep pushing those unnatural desires away, he couldn’t afford to fall back into that mindset. Virgil needed him.

If there was no sign of any activity from the knight, there was still time to return, pack up as much as they dared and get away before the Queen’s goons arrived. It would be upsetting, to leave this place they had grown to call home, but it was better than the alternative.

“Someone’s coming.”

This time, it was Virgil who warned him of someone approaching, the newly placed wards clearly having alerted him and Logan inwardly cursed for not being more aware of his surroundings. He barely had time to emerge from the dimly lit hall and arrive in the courtyard before the knight was riding in it himself, smile bright and far too smug for Logan’s liking.

“Hey Flappy, miss me?” Roman’s voice boomed out cheerfully, the knight looking unruffled by the adventure he had been through. If it wasn’t for the number of large sacks that were attached to the saddle of his white horse he might have doubted that the man had actually done any fighting at all. Logan’s keen sense of smell was able to pick up the aroma of rotting flesh and blood however. No doubt some limbs to prove he had killed the ogres. Lovely.

More importantly than that however, was the simple fact that Roman was alive.

Logan couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed in that. As well as a little shocked that he had actually stuck to the agreement.

“Ah, Thief Roman,” Logan greeted him, noting the slight twitch of an eyelid at the title he insisted on using. Good. “Back so soon I see. And with gifts... you can take them with you when you go on your next test and dispose of them somewhere far from here.”

There was no way he was going to let him leave such disgusting things here, where they would simply rot further, summon hordes of flies and stink the castle up. Simply disgusting. Smart, he supposed, that Roman had thought to bring along proof at all. An indigent look crossed the knights face at his words, the man shaking his head in disagreement.

“Hey, what about what you promised first!” Roman protested, dismounting from his horse with the same ease and grace as the last time. There really didn't seem to be a scratch on him and perhaps Logan would have to revise his estimate on the man’s fighting skills. Anyone capable of taking down numerous ogres without suffering any injuries was clearly someone more at home on the battlefield than Logan had first believed.

He had been slightly concerned that he had been too obvious in his attempt to have the thief killed off in the course of his quests, an easy solution to the issue. Now he was worried he was being far too subtle, too easy on the man.

“Ah yes. Your... reward...” Logan trailed off, letting the words hang in the air, a hint of menace around them. If he truly was the monster of folklore this would be the perfect opportunity to act on it, to promise one thing and then deliver only pain.

“Three questions,” he told him instead, settling himself more comfortably on the stone paving of the yard, wings stretching out subtly, simply to catch the gentle breeze. He needed to appear calm, no matter how he felt inside. “Ask whatever you like and I shall answer them honestly.”

“Seriously, that's your idea of a reward? How do I even know you will answer me honesty? You could just lie for all I know!” Roman waved his arms around as he spoke, Logan only just now realising that the knight had not drawn his weapon, the blade remaining secure in its sheath by his hip.

Once again he seemed to forget he was talking to a dragon. Although he had been acting in that same way for the whole conversation, relaxed, joking. There was no trace of any concern for his own safety, any lingering doubt that he was going to be attacked. All he seemed to care about was the thought that he was somehow being cheated. Logan sighed, nodding solemnly at the knight.

“Yes, that is my idea of a reward and you will just have to trust me. That is two questions answered I believe,” he said, a hint of mischief curling into his voice, despite the still serious expression he was wearing.

“What? Wait, no, those didn’t count!” Roman jumped a little as he spoke, eyes widening in unguarded panic.

“Another question,” Logan murmured softly and he was enjoying this too much. This was what he wanted, a battle of wits rather than a battle of brawn. Not a particularly taxing fight when his opponent was this man but still a clash between them. Virgil’s reassurances helped as well, to know that he had no intention of leaving him. Whatever his fascination with this Roman was, it wasn't as strong as their friendship, and that stopped the worst of his urges.

There was a faint fissure of worry in his mind however, a small niggle at just how much power he had handed Roman. He could ask him anything and while he had no way of knowing, Logan fully intended to keep his word. Even if that meant answering some very uncomfortable questions. Things that he didn't even want his prince to learn the truth about. Things he wasn't sure if even he wanted to learn and admit to. Things that if he said out loud could change everything.

Virgil didn't want to leave him, he told himself once more. Virgil wasn't going to leave him.

“Fine,” Logan said with a dramatic huff. “I will consider them as one. Make the last two count.” He still didn't know why he was being so generous to Roman, but as much as it might pain him to admit it, defeating all those ogres had been a feat worth rewarding.

Roman opened his mouth to protest some more before snapping it shut, apparently thinking better of it. He frowned, one hand drifting idly up to rub at his chin as he thought over all the countless questions that had to be swirling in his mind. So many possibilities but so few chances.

“Is Prince Virgil here?” Roman asked at last.

“Yes, he is here,” Logan replied. An obvious question, but one he had hoped Roman would somehow not think to ask. It was easier when there had been that ambiguity, when the doubt as to Virgil’s location had been like a shield.

Now, Roman knew for sure all he had to do was slay the dragon to ‘win' a prince.

To his surprise, Roman didn't react to his words beyond a thoughtful nod and he had probably already suspected that was the case. Logan wasn't the only dragon in the kingdom so there had to be a reason why he had come to this particular castle. He made a mental note to ask what have given them away later, if Roman was still alive. If there was a weak area in their hiding spot then he wanted to strengthen it.

One question down.

One to go.

It could be anything and the anticipation was setting Logan’s nerves on edge, his mind racing wildly through all the possibilities. He could ask the best way to kill a dragon, where any weaknesses were and he had promised himself he would be completely honest. He could ask anything and since it was the last question it would no doubt be something terrible.

The question, when it finally came, took him completely by surprise.

“Is he happy?”

Is he... is he happy. That was Roman’s last question? Not could he see him, was Logan actually going to let him go if Roman passed the tests just... wanting to know if he was happy. This time, it was Logan’s turn to open his mouth and then snap his jaws back shut, actually considering the question carefully.

Was Virgil happy?

He was content, certainly. Always busy with something or other, always with his nose in a book or bending over a cauldron as he brewed up some magic potion. Virgil filled almost every hour with something, even if it was just reading to Logan or stargazing long into the night. Some evenings he would simply draw, his fingers thick with charcoal dust as he sketched out whatever was in his head. Other times he would simply bask on his bed, letting the hours drift by, enjoying, so he said, not being under his step mother's control. Enjoying not being under anyone’s control but his own, to have freedom for the first time in his life.

Virgil still had panic attacks, moments he was reduced to a quivering mess, when he could do little more than shake and cry. It was always Logan he called for when he could form a coherent thought, always Logan he wanted, Logan he would use to ground himself. As selfish and as terrible as that made him, he was almost glad for those moments Virgil was in such horrendous mental pain. It meant he got to save him all over again. And it was terrible, Logan knew that, to think such thoughts, no matter how they were born out of love.

His friend had never once breathed a word about wanting things to change, bar a couple of comments about Patton, about wishing he was here too. Any conversations they had were instead about wanting more of the same. It took everything in him not to reveal Virgil’s location, not to seek him out and see if the answer was written on his face. Virgil wanted to stay with him, he had promised that much.

But was he happy?

“I... hope so,” Logan told Roman in the end, voice subdued.

There was a curious look in Roman’s eyes at his words, something that was somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. It was an expression Logan couldn't quite put his claw on, something that shimmered in the air around them, an elusive emotion that refused to be defined. He couldn’t even tell if it was good one or not.

“If... if you succeed in your second task, you can meet him and ask him yourself,” Logan heard himself saying. That had not been what he had planned on giving Roman as a reward, that would just lead to more complications, more chances of Virgil getting even more attached than he already was. Each test that Roman passed increased the chances that he would make it to the end and if that happened, then they would be forced to fight. He had never promised he would actually give up Virgil after all.

It was too late to take the words back however, Roman already staring at him as though Logan had just promised him every last scrap of gold from the kingdom and every gemstone to boot.

“If he agrees to it of course,” he added hurriedly and he knew how anxious Virgil got. He would not put pressure on his friend but if Roman survived the second quest then he would go and find his prince and ask him if he wanted to actually meet and speak with the knight intent on rescuing him.

Somehow, he rather suspected he would.

The question posed still haunted him however. Was he truly happy? Logan needed to know for sure, one way or another and he was enough of a realistic to know Virgil would never tell him if it was a negative answer, not wanting to upset him but perhaps he would be more open with Roman. If he was hurting Virgil, in any way, he needed to know. Was. Virgil. Happy.

Roman nodded, expression shifting into something determined, the knight shifting his stance slightly. Hand moved to rest on his sword hilt, and it took Logan a second to realise it wasn't a gesture of violence but rather one of respect. He was standing to attention, back straight, head proudly held up high. A military man prepared for inspection by his commander and confidence he would pass.

As though he waiting for some new orders to be given.

Wait. He was waiting for orders.

It was still surreal to think that someone other than Virgil was willing to listen to him, was willing to do what he asked. Sure, he was getting something in return but it was still Roman’s choice to do any of this in the first place, his choice that they do it this way instead of any other. His choice to accept the quests rather than just try to murder Logan.

Now, he just had to think of some orders, his previous plan seemed too tame when compared to the ease in which Roman had apparently taken down the ogres. He needed something that would challenge Roman, would put his life in peril and maybe get rid of him once and for all. Logan ignored the stray thought of how that would be a pity and he didn’t truly want the man dead. Or even memory wiped, because that could alter a person permanently as well, sometimes render the person they had been, as good as dead and a new personality in its place.

He had worried long enough about the problems if Virgil became attached to this human, he was not going to fall for the same trick instead. He did not care one way or another, what fate befell Thief Roman, so long as it didn’t harm his prince or Logan himself.

“So, what is my next quest, oh Fat and Flamey” Roman asked after what felt like the longest of pauses, looking up into Logan’s pale eyes expectantly.

He looked so... pure standing there. So unmarked by the filth of the world, a knight in - figuratively - shining armour, with his white horse ready to ride to the rescue and right all the wrongs. It was as though he had ridden out of the pages of some of the stories Virgil would read to him, on those nights when he craved fiction over reality. Stories of knights who were capable of resisting all temptations, of standing tall no matter what was thrown at them. At forever being able to remain white, even in a world of various shades of grey. Would Roman be as strong in the face of such things? Would he be able to make the noble choices no matter his own personal feelings? Was he really as ‘good’ as his outward appearance implied?

A slow smile spread across Logan's face, lips curling up to reveal wickedly sharp teeth. It was as though the image of Roman had inspired a burst of creative thinking in him, and he suddenly had the perfect idea for where to send the knight next.

Yes, it was time he sent him to deal with the demon in the woods.

Chapter Text

With a gentle touch, a couple of pale green leaves were sprinkled over the light blue water in the bowl, the slightly jagged edges of the leaves cutting through the liquid to disturb the surface tension before rapidly sinking below the cornflower blue of the potion, to be absorbed into the mix.

A second handful of plant life followed the first, finely crumbled white petals that danced and swirled around the surface of their own accord. They formed a series of dots across the blue, mirroring the invisible constellations in the sky above, the sun shining far too brightly for the stars to be visible. Not that he needed to see them, with his own map of the heavens created in the wide shallow dish before him. Almost there. Almost done, the final ingredient picked up from the ground beside him, Virgil never taking his eyes off the potion as he reached for it.

Virgil mumbled a few words under his breath, rolling the small obsidian pebble around and around in his palm, warming it with his own body heat. All of his thoughts, his words were channelled into one purpose and one purpose only. To create a scrying mirror that he could use to find out how Roman’s quest was going. The broken roof of Logan’s tower offered him an perfect panoramic view of the landscape around him. He didn’t like heights but when it came to magic like this, it helped to be as close to nature as possible and there was no way he was going to wander out of the castle walls to cast it.

Magic was a funny thing.

Intent mattered just as much as the actual ingredients or recited words. You had to want something, some specific thing whenever you were creating or casting magic. It wasn’t enough to say the words or make the hand gestures. It wasn’t even enough to have the magic spark in your blood - although that was a necessity, you were either born with it or you weren’t. You had to want whatever you were doing, be it the strongest desire to protect something or the deepest, darkest wish to cause harm on another.

Maybe that was Virgil’s problem. Maybe he lacked the discipline, the desire, to actually want to create with his powers. He certainly felt as though he wanted them badly enough in the moment. When he had to pull up his power from its seemingly eternal sleep - Virgil empathised with that, he too would have liked to spend forever asleep - in the heat of the moment. There had been times when he had needed to knock out a knight attacking Logan, when chaos and danger stalked the area and still he had barely managed to put them to sleep.

Even with his friend’s life potentially on the line, he hadn’t been able to do it with the ease that he should have been able to. His magic should be begging to be released, should be flowing through every inch of him instead of suspended in mental amber. Sure, Logan had never been in an actual life or death situation, he had never been defeated and seconds away from being killed but Virgil still worried about him, still woke up in the middle of the night with screams trapped in his throat and and image of his friend’s lifeless form collapsing to the ground with some faceless knight standing over him, gloating.

It always took him hours to get back to sleep after those nightmares. He would do anything to make sure those images didn’t become reality.

Except, apparently, convince himself he really needed to control and summon his magic at will.

Maybe it wasn’t just the will where he was lacking. Maybe it was the discipline required as well. Stray thoughts were deadly to attempted magic when it was something as painstakingly complicated as this. A single worry about Logan, or about something as benign as the possibility of rain could alter the end result and could prevent anything from happening at all. While Virgil had gotten better at keeping his focus where it was needed, it was still far too easy for his brain to run away with all the possible ‘what ifs’ in any given situation.

What if his magic missed and hit Logan. What if this time the Queen Mother had sent someone who was skilled at defensive magic and was able to nullify anything Virgil threw at him. What if all this time spent chasing a cure he probably wouldn’t even be able to cast if he found it was just a waste of effort and energy. What if Logan sent Roman off to face a literal demon that even the dragon didn’t want to mess with because it made him uncomfortable. What if Roman became a thrall to the demon in turn. What if they all died in a pointless accident one evening.

He wasn’t thinking about any of that right now.

All he was thinking about, was Roman and Roman alone, independent of any threat or situation. For once, his focus was razor sharp, picturing the knight as clearly as if he was standing in front of him. The slight tug of his lips upwards into a hint of a smile. The way his eyes all but glowed with their golden hue. The hair that was so silky, had looked so soft, even from a distance. His outfit, the white and red, all blending together to create someone that could only ever have become Sir Roman.

Carefully, Virgil dipped his head, blowing lightly on the black pebble between his skin. With a final, whispered, word, he dropped it into the middle of the bowl, a gentle plop as it sank instantly.

The stone caused ripples, tiny waves riding out from the center of the bowl. The tiny fragments of petals bobbed up and down on the disturbed water before all sinking at exactly the same time, vanishing without a trace. Colours shifted and spun, the pale blue transforming into dark lush greens and browns of the forest, a figure standing, sword drawn.

It had worked.

It had actually worked. Eagerly, Virgil leaned forward, almost dunking his head into the magically infused liquid in his haste to see what was happening. It seemed as though Roman had found the demon already, the creature having taken on the form of a handsome young man in a bid to try and distract and beguile. Interesting that it would take a male form. Interesting, but irrelevant, Virgil giving himself a small shake and trying to focus back on the moment at hand. It was a good thing that he wasn’t trying to use magic right now, his thoughts dancing all over the place.

Back to the mirror, back to Roman and the demon that wanted to claim his soul. The demon wasn’t smiling though, no tempting expression or flick of hips. It seemed as though Roman wasn’t buying anything the demon was saying and the monster was starting to lose his patience. Virgil felt his shoulders sag a little in relief. Fighting a demon was a terrible idea but it was still better than being seduced by one.

If Logan was correct, then the man had taken down a group of ogres. Hopefully that meant he would be more than a match for a demon. A shape moved in the corner of the mirror, Virgil frowning a little as he turned his attention away from Roman in order to try and make out whatever the creature was. It kept low, little more than a shadow against the ground, creeping slowly closer and closer to Roman.

Eyes widened as Virgil finally realised what he was looking at. An ogre. That... was an ogre. He looked as though he was part of a hunting party, Virgil realising with growing horror that the beast must have been absent when Roman had attacked and defeated the rest of its clan. It had clearly been tracking the knight with revenge foremost in its admittedly tiny brain.

Roman could take on an ogre. He could - probably - take on a demon. But ambushed by an ogre with a demon ready to rip him to shreds at the same time? That, he highly doubted the knight could manage on his own.

Virgil jumped back from the mirror, expression hovering somewhere between panicked and determined. He couldn't let Roman die like this. It wasn't fair.

“Logan!”

Virgil paced backwards and forwards, hand lifting to run through his hair as he did. It felt as though it took forever for Logan to land next to him, his wings folding in tightly against his form so as not to knock over the bowl Virgil had placed in what would have normally been his landing area. He spun to face his friend, hands now pulling lightly at his hair instead of simply passing through it.

“Logan, we have. We have to go to the demon. We have to help Roman, he didn’t get all the ogres and he’s going to lose.”

“So he loses,” Logan replied after a short pause. “I warned you not to become attached Virgil, you knew he would have to lose eventually.”

“Not like this! It isn’t right!” Virgil could feel the panic, the frustration welling up inside of him. Aimed at Logan for being so stubborn and aimed at himself for still not knowing why it mattered. It wasn’t as though Roman was the first one they had sent off to die but it was different somehow. He was different.

Virgil moved close to his friend, one hand lifting to rest against Logan’s jaw, his eyes wide and pleading as he stared up at him.

“He’s good Logan, I can feel it. We can’t let him die... please.” Virgil hated begging but if it meant Logan relented then he wasn’t above it. Anything, if that was what it took to save the other man. It was dangerous sure, but he believed with everything he was, that Roman wasn’t really a threat to the dragon, not anymore. Something inside of him whispered that the knight wouldn’t try and kill Logan, not anymore.

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, as though trying to draw up some strength from somewhere, before shaking his head in disagreement.

“This is a mistake.”

“Maybe...” Virgil admitted, giving a small nod as he did. “But it's something I need to do Logan. I’m still Crown Prince, he is still supposed to be my knight, and I... I dunno, I sense something in him. He could have fought you so many times Logan and he didn’t.”

The dragon sighed, something low and long suffering, his head bobbing up and down ever so subtly as though he was having a discussion with himself. Virgil wished he knew what was going on in that rich black head of his, what he was thinking.

“Fine.”

It was as though his whole body sagged under the release of the weight that word brought him. Every part of him relaxed at that single word, at the knowledge that Logan was still in there and that they were actually going to do something. It had felt like far too long since he had done anything beyond research to try and improve his situation. Longer still, since he had actually wanted to and he wanted now. Roman would help, Virgil was sure of it. He had to be sure, because he was gambling all of their lives on that hope - fact.

He ran a finger across the surface of the liquid in the bowl, disrupting the surface tension. The image of the ogre creeping up behind Roman instantly vanished, the magic broken by the physical contact and he couldn’t watch any longer.

“Let’s go save the idiot.”

“One final time, just for the record. I do not approve of this course of action.” Even as he said this, Logan was shifting and tilting a little to the side, carefully uncoiling his wings to allow Virgil easy access to climb onto his back. Right. Virgil was going to have to ride him if they wanted to go and save Roman, because he couldn’t exactly walk to the demon’s home in time. Which meant he had to go high in the air.

He was doing this for Roman, for all of them. He could do this, he was going to do this. Roman’s story wasn’t going to end in blood and cowardly tactics, sprawled out on some forest floor far away from anyone who loved him. Logan’s story wasn’t going to be tainted further by allowing this to happen. His words finally sank in, Virgil softening some more, brushing a soft kiss against one of the scales on his friend’s jaw. It was impossible to be sure, but Virgil was convinced that under the darkened scales, a rush of red moved along, a blush to the kiss.

“I know. Thank you Logan.”

“Thank me after we survive Virgil, there is no guarantee that we will. The demon is an unpredictable opponent at the best of times, and I do not believe it will back down if it believes it can claim the thief as its own.”

Virgil nodded grimly at that, climbing up onto Logan’s back and settling himself near the shoulder blades. His eyes closed as Logan beat his powerful wings, the pair rising swifting into the air.

--

It didn't take long for Logan to cover the distance between the castle and the demon. Virgil could hear the angry bellows of the beast before they actually reached it, his friend swooping lower, almost skimming over the tops of the trees, Virgil able to feel his stomach rise up into his mouth at the sudden dip before settling back into its proper place.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Virgil gritted his teeth together, one hand clinging onto one of the ridges that made up Logan’s back, the other wrapped around his pendant in a death grip. He hated how Logan knew without having to ask or even look that he had spent the whole ride with his eyes tightly screwed shut, just trying not to freak out about the fact they were in the air and flying was up there with the things that he feared and loathed the most. He had no idea how Logan could stand it. Hated that Logan knew him so well even as he was reassured by it.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

They were hovering a few feet off the group, at the edge of the clearing. In front of them, the demon and the ogre were locked in furious combat, somehow oblivious to the newest arrivals. He knew he should be focused on them, on the very clear danger they still represented but all he could do was stare at the knight.

Sir Roman lay crumpled on the ground, his sword discarded a few feet away from him, the bright blade coated in some thick, green liquid, droplets of it scattered on the plant life. He looked pale. Far too pale, his skin so white, almost as white as his leather clothing. The red on his clothes matched as well, mingling with the blood that was flowing freely from various cuts and wounds on him, his hair matted with the stuff from where he had seemed to have taken a blow to the head. The worst wound seemed to be across his stomach, several deep gashes revealing flesh and bone.

Virgil leapt from his seat on Logan’s back, gracefully tucking into a roll as he reached the ground, a move he had long since perfected from all the times he had been forced to jump to evade a pursing knight.

Somewhere, above the roar of his heart in his ears he thought he could hear his name being screamed by Logan but he paid it no mind, his attention narrowing to the still form among the foliage. He wasn’t thinking about the danger for once, actions reckless as he dashed across the clearing without any hesitation, intent only on reaching Roman.

The demon moved too, whipping around to fling a fireball in the direction of the downed knight. Again, he could hear a muffled rumble, a shout from Logan but it all fell away slightly as he skidded to a stop beside the man, falling to his knees. Everything seemed to be slipping into slow motion as he kneeled there beside the fallen knight, the fireball floating towards him, the ogre slowly swinging its bloody club in the direction of the demon. Somewhere behind him, was Logan, Virgil able to feel the ground shake and tremble slightly under foot. He exhaled, the soft escape of breathe sounding unnaturally loud in his own ears, a puff of noise that even rang out louder than the screams of battle.

One hand rested on Roman’s chest, the other shooting straight up in the air, reaching for all the invisible threads in the sky, feeling them whisper and curl around his fingers. For a grain of time within the moment, Virgil felt them all, how they connected together, felt all the vibrations as they shifted and danced in the air, even as he tried to call a different use from it, no longer just to be a gentle breeze. They pooled in his hand, willing to do his bidding, a shy smile growing on his face at the sensation. The moment passed, time rushing back to greet him, the fireball screaming towards him now, too fast for him to duck or dodge. In that moment, he pushed with everything he was, forcing the strands to change.

A faint silver, almost translucent shield blossomed out of his fingertips, rising up a few inches before cascading down like a waterfall, pouring around them both, encasing them within its frame. The ball of fire collided with the shield a split second later, fizzing and spitting angrily against it. To his amazement, it actually held, the fire spluttering away after a couple of seconds into nothing.

Logan roared again. He lunged forward, every inch of him sharp and tense, the posed killer Virgil knew he could be. He was more than capable of holding his own as the ogre went crashing into a nearby tree, flung there by an enraged dragon who now seemed intent on ripping the demon apart, limb by limb, for daring to attack his prince. The ogre was little more than collateral damage at this point, something that was in the way of his actual target.

Virgil trusted him to keep them all safe. To do his part so he could do his.

Eyes shifted from the shield he had somehow formed to look down at the knight he was touching, taking in the slack features, the closed eyelids, the blood that was still pooling around his body.

His chest wasn't moving.

“Oh no you don't,” Virgil growled. The roars and clash of the battle still raging around him grew distant, muted almost as he stared intently down at the still - too still, deathly still - form. His hand tightened on Roman’s clothing, the material bunching up in his fingers. Colour and smell faded a few moments after sound, everything falling away until all he could sense was the man he was touching and the magic still rippling out from his upturned hand.

The world was nothing and nothing was the world. It was as though he was kneeling in a void and the only thing in existence was this bubble he had conjured up. A sliver speck of bright light against the black of absence. He stared down at the unconscious Roman, the tiny piece of world he had carved out for them both starting to glow, becoming lighter and brighter as magic and energy pulsed through him.

“You're not going anywhere, you hear me,” Virgil told him fiercely. “You don't get to die on me Roman, you're not done. So get up and fight!”

Chapter Text

The worst thing was, he hadn't even seen it coming.

In retrospect - wasn't everything always easier in retrospect - he should have been more aware of his surroundings, should have been alert to the possibility of someone attacking him while he was trying to get the demon to fight - even as something unabashedly evil as this creature needed to be the one who tried to strike the first blow so he could feel justified in his attack. Then again, he had always believed dragons were irredeemably evil but recent encounters had shaken that conviction somewhat and he was starting to suspect that maybe there was more to this rescue than he had first believed.

Perhaps this friendly looking demon wasn’t as wicked as the tales would have him believe either. It wasn’t his real form, Roman knew that, but then there was no harm in hiding yourself until you were confident enough to show who you really were. Roman also knew he was still a demon, under the pale skin and dark hair, the lips that curled up into a half sort of smile. And he was a charming sort of fellow. A little too charming perhaps, the sort that made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle a little and while it would be easy to believe, Roman still needed to remain on edge, and remember all the tricks they were said to employ. He wasn’t going to enter the cave, he wasn’t going to make a deal and he certainly wasn’t going to drink the clear liquid offered to him as a gesture of friendship.

Demons were solitary creatures, and that had made him drop his guard a little, focus all of his attention on the possible danger in front and not on anyone sneaking up on him.

The blow from behind had sent him stumbling to the ground, Roman able to feel the hot, thick ooze of blood trickling down the back of his neck from the lucky blow. He twisted as he fell, trying to roll out of the way of the blow he could sense was following. The heavy club smashed into the ground next to him instead, Roman trying not to think about how easily that could have been his face. A quick glance to the side showed him his new enemy was none other than an ogre.

He’d missed one of the ogres. A school boy error, Roman harshly cursing internally at himself as he climbed back to his feet. He knew better than that. He was supposed to anyway, and Patton was counting on him to rescue his intended - he couldn’t make such foolish mistakes. No matter how valiantly he tried to fight back, he was no match against a furious ogre and a demon that had given up all pretense of doing this any other way. He managed to get a few blows in himself, slashing and cutting although nothing fatal, even as he searched for some way out of this, a retreat so he could regain his barings.

His head hurt, the world dipping alarmingly in and out of focus, a faint ringing in his ears making it harder than normal to hear the world around him, to be able to notice when one of the two swapped from fighting each other, to attacking him. It didn’t take long for the demon’s terribly sharp claws to slash across his chest, cutting deep and stealing his breath in one violent motion.

Legs suddenly seemed so weak, incapable of holding himself upright and Roman could feel himself fall once more, the ground connecting heavily with his back. He tried to breathe, the motion sending a jarring wave of pain through him, overwhelming, intense pain, as white hot as a forest fire. It sent every nerve ending screaming out in pain, every inch of him consumed by the agony, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head.

The last thing he heard was the sound of wings before everything simply vanished.

He was so tired. So tired and ready to let go, to lay down his burden and finally rest. Surely, after every quest he had been on, everyone he had saved and helped, he deserved to just rest? Every limb felt heavy, pulling him down and encouraging him to simply float in this strange blackness he had fallen into.

Roman could feel himself drifting, some empty nothingness of a sea lapping gently against his body, the currents trying to draw him further down into the dark, to the oblivion of endless sleep.

He was... just so tired. It wouldn’t be so bad... to just close his eyes. Just. For a moment.

“Oh no you don't.”

What?

Who... who had said that? The voice was male, determined but it wasn’t one he had heard before. He could feel something gathering on his chest, a pressure that was distinct from the cool lapping of the water. It made him want to move but his limbs refused to respond. His eyes were closed. Roman couldn’t remember closing them, a heat running along his eyes, thousands of tiny little pin pricks against his skin, sealing his eyes closed in preparation for his final journey.

It felt like too much effort to open them once more. Even his eyelids were too heavy to move and something was murmuring in his mind that he shouldn't even try. He had battled for long enough and now he deserved his rest. It was tempting, oh so tempting, to just listen to that voice. His whole life had often felt like fight after fight, always having to prove himself, always having to keep finding ways to make himself... better. All that could be behind him, if he just listened to the soft voice in his mind urging him to relax and let the water take him.

Tired... tired... tired.

“You're not going anywhere, you hear me.”

There was so much raw power in that voice, so much steely confidence. It made him want to listen to that over the silky tones urging him to give in. Giving in didn’t really seem like the sort of thing Roman did, especially when there was another voice telling him not to. He tried to move, tried to will iron laden limbs into pushing against the tide, because it was more than simple determination in those words that inspired him. There was a note of panic in the voice as well, fear... fear for him? Roman never wanted anyone to feel fear because of him, or for him. It wasn’t right. He should move. He really should move, he knew it.

Roman couldn’t help but think there was something enchanting about that voice, the low rasp that sent a shiver down his spine. It was the kind of voice he could have probably listened to for hours without complaint. He needed to find the owner of that voice.

“You don't get to die on me Roman, you're not done.”

Not.. done.

He. He wasn’t, was he. There was still so much he needed - no wanted to do. So much he still had to experience, so much he still needed to get out of life. He had a Prince to return home, he had to see Patton finally smile without any pain lurking behind those lips. He had to find a happy ending of his own and this... darkness, this nothingness, the void of eternity, was not his happy ending. Not by far. There was so much he wanted for Patton, his lord, and so much for himself. He was Sir Roman. Sword arm to Patton, knight of the Regent Queen Mother, blood sworn to the kingdom as a whole. He wasn’t ready to die yet.

“So get up and fight!”

Eyes snapped open, a renewed determination coursing through him, the ache of tired muscles vanishing in that same instance, as though invisible chains had been wrapped around them and had now cracked and fallen away.

Light poured into the sea, filling the world around him in a matter of moments and the bright purple was almost blinding in its sudden appearance, Roman unable to stop his eyes from slamming back shut against it for a moment. Carefully, he blinked a couple of times, trying to let his apparently sensitive eyes adjust to the colours, the purple dimming slightly, becoming warmer and less harsh.

This was not where he had fallen, no trace of forest or foe. Everything was the water, it stretched on as far as the eye could see, a black emptiness that not even the purple light seemed able to penetrate, the colour warming the sky and seeming to wrap itself around him in a gentle embrace. Not even the comfort of the light however could change the fact he was going to drown. Or something from the water was going to grab him and drag him down there with it to drown. And there was something below him, something in the depths. Something that wanted him, something that was still whispering its siren song in his head and he could recognize the soft words in his mind now as not belonging to him. They still wanted him to simply give in, to let it take him.

Purple light glowed brighter, almost humming against his skin in disagreement, and while the voice didn’t sound again, he could almost feel the words it wasn’t saying. Whoever was talking to him, telling him not to give in had also sent the light. And they weren’t going to let him go easily.

It was strangely comforting, despite not knowing who it was, to know that he had someone in his corner, aiming to protect him. The pressure on his chest steadily increased, a weight that was suddenly pulling him upright, Roman jerking to his feet and where there had once been the sea was now solid ground, Roman staggering a little as he tried to adjust to the drastic change in terrain.

In front of him stood... someone. Something? A glowing purple figure of a young man about his height. An angel? It had to be an angel surely, because wherever they were, it wasn’t the world as he knew it anymore. He was impossibly handsome, hair dark and falling into his eyes, the edges tinted with a purple that was a few shades lighter than the colour which was still radiating out from him. Or perhaps his whole hair was purple, it was impossible to say. There was something about his face, his eyes, dark and deep, the sort of deepness Roman wanted to get lost in because he knew he would always be safe if he did.

The being seemed to know what he was thinking, a small, crooked smile twisting its way onto his lips, Roman swallowing heavily as he stared at them, unable to resist imagining how they would feel against his own. If possible, it just made him even more attractive looking.

“Be strong and fight Roman,” he whispered, and yes, it was the same rasp from before, and so the same person who had saved him in the first place. Roman opened his mouth, intent on asking what was going on and perhaps, more importantly, who on earth he was supposed to fight in a world that only seemed to contain the two of them - and the creature at the bottom of the sea, wherever that sea had vanished to.

Figures emerged out of the darkness around him, the shadows seeming to twist and curl in on themselves, ripping themselves into new, unique creatures. They formed beasts from tales he had read as a child, and monsters he had fought as a knight. There were many things, including an ogre, and a chimera, a man wielding twin daggers standing next to a woman holding a long staff. There was no dragon he noted faintly. He wasn’t really sure what that meant.

“This is your mind, your battle Roman, I know you can do this.” How he knew, Roman had no clue, they had never met before and if he had seen the last fight he had been involved in, then he would have even less reason to believe in him. But it was his own mind? Is that where they were? So the beasts of shadow were... what? Things he was afraid of, things he had done battle with in the past? Things he believed to be evil? Was that why there wasn’t a shadow dragon?

So many questions swirled around in his mind, more than he knew could be answered right now. There were more pressing things to be worried about, such as the fact he was supposed to fight and all his had were his own fists. The angel held out an hand just as he thought that, Roman’s sword suddenly materialising in his fingers. Easily, he flipped it, offering the hilt towards the knight who took it slowly, staring at the blade as though he had never seen a weapon before. It shone brightly in the night, a light independent of the other person. It was glowing hot white, the faintest tint of red to the very edge of the light. The longer he stared at it, the better he felt, its weight a comforting reassurance in his hand. He knew this weight intimately, had held this same sword years. This was his sword - or the memory of his sword? It was all so confusing, but all he knew for sure was that he knew this blade and the handsome angel believed in him.

“So we fight?” Roman questioned, receiving a small nod from the purple figure. He smiled, something wild and free. “I can do that.”

He spun, sword cutting through the air in one steady stroke, the blade moving as though it was part of him, rather than something he was holding. The weapon continued to glow the white red of before, guiding him as he fought against the ranks of darkness. It didn’t take long for Roman to realise they were more than capable of injuring him in what felt like a real manner, one of the daggers held by the bandit like figure grazing across his arm, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. His sword in this realm seemed capable of doing incredible damage, a mere slice against shade enough to vanquish it.

The angel moved too, ducking and weaving through the shadows. Slashes of purple light would periodically flash through the darkness, as though his very light was a weapon in its own right, sending some of the shadowlings crumbling back into the black from where they came. Bit by bit, the crowd of enemies started to fade away.

They were winning.

They were actually winning.

Roman barely took notice of their surroundings as they fought, confident that the nothing they were standing on stretched for eternity. Why he thought that, why he assumed the ground was a constant in a world that had already proven itself to be a place of endless mirrors and nothing being as it seemed was beyond him, but he didn’t have time to question it.

“Behind you!” The shout had him side stepping without any conscious thought, obeying the order slash demand from his guardian, his mind only catching up a few seconds later as his opponent leapt forward, passing him and suddenly dropping down from sight. Mouth dropped open in shock as Roman followed the plummeting being with his eyes.

He was standing on a cliff and there, far, far - far, far, far oh so far - below, churned and spat the sea, whipped up into an angry froth.

The ground crumbled under foot as he stared down, Roman giving a startled yelp as suddenly there was no support, nothing to keep him upright. Arms flailed wildly as he sought to try and regain his balance, to keep himself on the cliff but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing he could use as support or leverage to keep himself from toppling further backwards.

A few feet away, the other man was still facing him, dark eyes widening in clear horror at the scene unfolding. A thought flew across his mind, of how disappointed in him the angel had to be. Believing in him, saving him, only for Roman to fail because he couldn’t keep his balance. Purple light grew brighter as the man rushed towards him, panic warring with determination. This time, however, Roman knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. This time, the angel couldn’t save him. He accepted it.

And he fell.

Chapter Text

“No!”

The being barely paused before jumping off the cliff after him, the pair hurtling towards the hissing sea, tips of grey on the black waves, as smooth and as deadly as weapons. Somehow, even in falling the angel was better than him, picking up speed so he was getting closer and closer. Terror and determination warred in those glowing eyes as they dropped, Roman unable to help himself, unable to do anything but gaze at him. He even forgot to scream, too caught up in every flicker of those eyes. This was not the time to be staring, not when he was falling to his doom, to waves and a creature that felt forever hungry.

A hand shot out, grabbing his own, the pair jolting to an ungainly halt, Roman’s heart leaping into his throat at the jolt, the sudden stop knocking the wind out of him. The image of the angel seemed to flicker for a moment, as though his existence was suddenly another uncertain aspect of this strange world. Roman didn’t think he could survive it if it turned out the angel was simply another changing whim in this strange mind-scape. He didn’t just mean literally survive, didn’t mean he would carry on falling to his doom, he meant something else, something... more. The angel flickered once more, almost fading out of view before there was a glow of purple, the light wrapping itself around him and then shooting up away and back over the cliff.

“No,” the angel hissed again, and it felt as though this time, the word wasn’t aimed at Roman himself but rather at some invisible being. It was almost as though he was intruding on a conversation that he wasn’t part of - which was ridiculous considering this was apparently his mind and so everything in it, was part of him. The angel’s dark head tilted a little to the side, listening intently to something only he could hear before shaking his head in denial.

“I am not letting go.”

Let go?

Belatedly, Roman realised they were still hanging in thin air, no longer falling. They seemed to hover in the air, part way down the cliff as though suspended in the air. Roman felt his breath hitch in his throat once more, eyes travelling past the impossibly beautiful man or angel, who was facing him, his body upside down while Roman had somehow remained upright even while falling.

It seemed as though the light had formed a rope or tendril that had raced down the cliff after them both, wrapping itself around the man’s left ankle to stop them falling further. It shimmered in the darkness, a beacon in theory of safety and stability.

He didn’t want to think about what it might be anchored to up on the top of the cliff. Or rather, how it couldn’t be anchored as there was nothing there and so they were being supported by nothing, a nothing that surely would let them fall sooner or later. Probably sooner, once the warped physicals of this realm caught up with it. Roman could feel the grip start to falter, staring in mounting horror at the single thing between him and the impatience he could sense rising in the sea. It wanted him and it did not wish to be denied.

“Don't look there, just keep your eyes on me, just keep focused on me okay?” The angel's voice wasn’t as confident as before, a shaking tremor running through it. It was enough to make him tear his gaze away from his ankle and back to his face. Fear was shining in those deep eyes, and it made his heart ache to see it. The sight of the angel biting lightly at his bottom lip before speaking again made his heart ache in a completely different fashion.

“I’m not... I’m not keen on heights so uh, this isn’t ideal so how about you look at me and I just look at you.”

Tentatively, Roman nodded, trying to keep his gaze on the angel as suggested and not give into the temptation to look above or below. Out of the corner of his eye he could still see the light fashioned into a physical thing though, as the purple vine like... construct, struggled and tried to pull them back up. It creaked alarmingly, unable to move them, Roman able to feel his terror battle with the strange wave of calm looking at the other man inspired.

They swung subtly, rocking slightly against the cliff face, a gentle breeze having picked up from somewhere. A second hand wrapped around his wrist, his angel now holding onto him with both arms, gripping him tightly. It was enough to keep him from falling, for the moment. It felt like he was falling still. Staring into those eyes, dark with specks of light scattered within. A whole galaxy of stars mapped out on those dark, expressive eyes, entire worlds spinning away in them.

They were beautiful and he was falling.

“Roman... Roman, listen to me.” The angel was talking again, his words low, almost lost in the haze that Roman could feel himself sinking into. With effort, he forced himself to stop gazing into his eyes and instead focus on his mouth, and the words forming there. Staring at his lips was not helping.

“You have to want this too, I can't pull us both back up on my own. This is your mind, your reality, your shore,” he told him, voice sounding choked and he could hear the effort in it, the tiredness as he poured so much of what he was into the rope wrapped around him, still trying to keep them from hitting the sea below.

“I do!” Roman protested, staring up at him with wide, hurt eyes, shocked at the idea that he might not be trying. Everything else was pushed out of his mind at the idea, Roman even forgetting - for the moment - how enchanting the man was. Hadn’t the angel seen him fight? Seen him struggle? He was not giving in, was not going into that good night without his best effort so why would the angel accuse him of not trying hard enough to survive this? Sure he had fallen, but he hadn’t meant to.

“I don’t want to die!”

“There is a difference between not wanting to die and wanting to live. It’s so easy to not want to die, so easy to fear it as the enemy, as something to be terrified of, but it's not enough Roman.” Dark eyes bored into his own, searching deep, searching for something - he hoped that whatever it was, he found it when he looked away a few heartbeats later.

They slipped another few inches down the impossibly long cliffs, the tendrils wrapped around the other male’s legs straining to near breaking point, Roman swallowing down the very un-knight like squeak that threatened to escape at the motion. He didn't know how much longer the glowing man could keep holding onto him, how much further he could carry on holding before he was forced to let go, simply to save his own life. No matter how much the light glowed and pressed against him, not even an angel could hold on forever.

Again, it was as though he could read his mind, the male shaking his head, the dark hair falling in messy bangs that covered a lot of his face.

“I'm not going to let you go, don't think about me, just focus on you. You need to want to live. What do you have that's worth living for?”

It was easy to say not to think about him, but that was all Roman could think about. His eyes. His mouth and how it would feel to kiss. His hands, warm against his skin, soft yet strong, clinging to him tightly. What did he have that was worth living for?

He had his duty of course, he had his title. From childhood, becoming a knight, becoming ‘Sir Roman’ had been his dream, his whole purpose of being. It was all he could ever remember wanting to be, dreamily imagining himself at the head of the knights, at being able to serve the royal family directly. He was a similar age to the Prince, and perhaps if he just trained hard enough, worked hard enough, he could get noticed.

Then the Crown Prince had vanished and the Queen Mother had assumed the regency until his return. Roman hadn’t even made it to the ranks that worked in the castle. He’d never even had the chance to meet Prince Virgil. It had been a blow, but it hadn’t stopped him from eventually becoming a knight of the castle and then in turn, a knight of the eventual prince consort. Patton was everything he could have dreamed of in a ruler, kind, noble, loyal. A worthy intended for the Prince, even if he never seemed that happy about the fact. Even if he confessed to Roman his heart belonged to another, and Roman had to carry the weight of that secret around in his heart. It wasn’t as though he had anyone himself to tell. What good was being a knight when he was still alone and those few he cared about, were still hurting? Being Sir Roman wasn’t enough.

He had Patton of course, his best friend, his only friend. The first one to see past the masks he was forever wearing to the actual man inside. Patton who was so sad, who smiled with his mouth and never his eyes, in all the years he had known him. Patton who needed more than Roman could ever give him, Patton who had inspired him to take this final quest because while he couldn’t get him what he truly wanted, he could bring back Patton’s other friend instead. Patton who probably would cry if he died. Was that enough? It didn’t feel like enough, no matter how badly his soul shook and screamed at the idea of causing Patton further pain.

“I don’t know,” Roman gasped out, feeling his own fingers loosen a little on that admission. “Please, I don’t know.”

“You could want to live... for me,” his would be saviour suggested, a faint pale pink mingling with the deeper purple glow, touching his cheeks in a delicate blush. Roman blinked a couple of times, something warm spreading through his chest, something that felt an awfully lot like hope. Did that mean... could that mean... could his angel feel the way he felt? Was it possible for an angel to feel like that? The deepening blush certainly seemed to say yes.

“If I survive this,” Roman asked softly, for a moment forgetting that they were dangling over a cliff, potentially seconds away from death. “If I get out of this, will I see you again?

His angel smiled again, something soft and real, that same crooked smile, as though he knew something the other didn't. He could see that smile every day for an eternity and still never grow bored with it.

“I think that's pretty much a certainly Sir Roman,” he assured him, and Roman felt a rush of heated emotions run through him at that knowledge, hope swamped by unashamed joy, and he didn’t want to just live for his angel. He wanted to live for himself, he wanted to know what would happen when he woke up, he wanted to make Patton happy, to learn the secret of the ebony dragon, to maybe be happy himself. He wanted life, in all its glory.

“In that case... I want to live,” he breathed, feeling the truth in those words, feeling them wrap around him like a comforting embrace, renewed determination that this not be the end firing up in him.

His free hand - only just now, did Roman even realise he was dangling by one hand - reached out, grabbing both of the man’s back, holding on tightly. He wasn’t going to be beaten by some fall. No matter how many times you fall, you dust yourself down and get back up again. It was one of the first things you were taught when you signed up to become a knight, that no matter how hard you were hit, even if you went down, you pushed yourself to climb back to your feet. You never gave in, no matter what and yet Roman had come so close. He wasn’t going to let this... whatever this dream actually was, defeat him. Not Sir Roman.

The sea started to hiss and spit below them, churning violently. Roman didn’t look down, didn’t dare to, because whatever is down there was perhaps more than he was capable of handling right now. He could hear something break the surface, a crash of waves as the surface tension broke. The angel looked past him and down to the water below, horror shifting onto his features and that was really not what he wanted to see. It made his mind race, conjuring up all manner of horrible possibilities as to what was down there, waiting for him.

Above them, past the angel, past the purple light that still wrapped around an ankle and keeping them from falling, he could see the shadowy beings they had been fighting before. They were all gathered at the cliff edge, faceless beings looking down at them. Right now, up didn’t appear to be much more safer than down. How did wanting to live help? How could they get out of this when escape just threw them back into a fight they had only been gradually winning? No, he couldn't think like that. The shadows up there were better than whatever was lurking below them.

A roar sounded below, something inhuman that made the blood in his veins want to turn to ice, Roman shifting a little, turning his head in a bid to look down. If something was going to attack them, then he wanted to know what. Even if this was the end, then in his last seconds, he wanted to know what had killed him.

“Don’t look,” his angel hissed, eyes flickering back to Roman, swallowing once more. “Whatever you do Sir Roman, don’t look.”

Don’t look. He could feel the urge building up in him, the desire to know what was below him. He wanted to know what was coming to try and kill them so he could work out a way to defend himself. He needed to defend the angel. After everything that the angel had done for him, after how he saved him time and time again, it felt as though Roman was long overdue to save him back. The angel didn’t want him to look down though. Somehow, this felt like a test. Exactly who was giving the test, he didn’t know. Was it the beast, who would gain some kind of power once he looked at it? Or the angel, who wanted to know that Roman trusted him? Perhaps it was simply a mix of the two.

The itch to look grew stronger, Roman suppressing a shudder that wanted to run through his whole frame as that desire built in him. Not knowing a danger was a terrible thing, it placed him on the wrong foot, left him defenceless and he hated it. Roman wanted to look. No. His angel asked him not to look and he trusted his angel. He wanted to be worthy of that same trust in turn. There had to be a plan here, some trick that would save them, if only he had faith. He wasn’t going to look. He wouldn’t betray the angel like that. Fingers tightened in the angel's grip, clinging on as hard as he could, his hold matching his determination to do as the glowing being had asked.

“I want to live,” Roman repeated, his words causing a slow smile to spread across the angel’s face, something satisfied, the look of terror fading.

“Good.”

The roar sounded again, a wounded, pained cry. His words - or his refusal to look - had injured it somehow, Roman feeling a rush of pleasure run through him as the angel pulled again, trying to drag him up. His whole being felt as though it was lighter, almost floating instead of hanging. It took another second to realise they were lighter, rising up in the air as though the very currents around them were bringing them back to the top of the cliff - and beyond, the pair now face to face as they continued to ascend, purple, red and white all mixing together, brighter and brighter.

“I hate flying!” Although the words sounded as though the angel was complaining, his tone was anything but, half breathless as he leaned his head forward, pressing into the crook of Roman’s neck as if to hide from the world as they flew up and up. After everything he had done to save Roman, to guide him out of this place, looking after him in this moment seemed like a small price to pay. And one he was more than willing to do, one he would have offered without thought to do. Instead of simply holding hands, they seemed intertwined, the angel close against him, arms slipping around his waist, fingers curling into the back of his leather jacket for dear life.

He gripped back, his hold on the other man tighter, a silent promise running through his mind to not let go. To never let go. He was going to find him, when he woke up, wherever his angel was. Somehow, he was going to find him the real world, Roman staring at the top of his head, the purple strands of hair bouncing a little in air and it was the most beautiful sight, the most beautiful moment, to have this man in his arms. The light was still getting brighter, as though they were heading up to the sun. He opened his mouth -

Only for the world to be enveloped in blinding white.

Chapter Text

He jolted upright with a gasp, hand instinctively flying to his stomach, fingers sprayed against skin as he felt for a wound that... that... that no longer seemed to be there in the same intensity as before. Roman looked down, staring at himself in shock. His shirt was shredded at the bottom, armour ripped to pieces where the razor sharp claws had torn it. Roman could vividly remember the pain that had come with the slash, the way all his strength had seemed to drain out of the gashes along with his blood, how easily he had tumbled to the ground, a puppet with no strings left.

He should be dead. Why wasn't he dead?

The skin was pink, pinched together in a series of horizontal healing scars that looked as though it was weeks - if not months - since the wound had happened and was knitting together nicely. That didn’t change the fact that Roman shouldn’t have been able to heal from such a wound. He had been alone, far away from any help at all, let alone any healer capable of such feats.

The dream hovered around the edges of his awareness, moments dipping in and out of clarity. He could remember shadows, a cliff edge and a fight that had been about more than mere survival but the details remained fuzzy. An angel. There had been an angel there, a glowing being that hadn’t felt of this world. Looking back, Roman wasn’t sure if he had even been real or simply some fever dream that his dying mind had conjured up in a last bid effort to try and save him. The logical, sensible thing would be to dismiss what he had seen as nothing more than a dream.

It didn’t make any sense, if the purple man had been nothing but his own mind and Roman found himself clinging to that over what should be, his hand still resting against his stomach. Eyes were still low, staring at the skin although he wasn’t really seeing it, thoughts turned deeply inward. He wanted the man from his dream to be real. Surely not even his mind, as imaginative as it was, could have dreamt up such an enchanting being as he had been? With his crooked smile, husky voice, a bravery and determination that had more than rivaled Roman’s own courage - indeed, he would say it had bested it because despite an apparent hatred of heights, he had still flung himself off a cliff without any hesitation to try and save Roman.

If... if he was real then that would have meant... dream walking? Somehow, in the middle of the forest, away from anyone he had ever known and with next to no trace of civilization he had somehow been found in time. Not only found but apparently found by a powerful magic user, capable of a rare and strange healing magic. He was aware of the concept of dream walking of course, the ability for a healer to dive into the mind of another in order to drag them back out, but it was rare. So rare, in fact, that he had only heard of it working in books and had never seen anyone successfully carry it out. He’d seen plenty try of course, try and fail, both injured and would be rescuer often dying because of it. To be within a mind of someone as they died was a death sentence. It killed you as surely as it killed them and even lingering too long could destroy a mind, you could try and leave before the actual death only to find whatever escape door you had counted on had crumbled away. Or the damage inside the host’s mind could simply have been too severe, inflicting scars and injury upon the would be rescuer even if they managed to escape alive.

The angel, whoever he was, had to have known that, if he was capable of such magic. And yet he had dived into a complete strangers mind to try and do what was right. Not to mention he had refused to let go, had told Roman he wasn’t going to leave him. Whoever he was, he had meant that, Roman believed that with all his heart. He would have fallen into the water and died with Roman rather than give up on him and the knight had no idea what to make of that, of someone being prepared to risk that much for him.

Somehow, Roman had survived the impossible. If the dream was real, then so was the man who had saved him. The angel he had looked at and felt as though he was seeing the whole world with new eyes, as if everything was different. As if everything was going to be better now. He had promised they would see each other again and Roman had promised to himself that he would find him, no matter what it took. Which meant right now, he had more important things to be doing than staring at his chest. He needed to work out what was going on, complete his current quest so he could devote all his time to finding the man. The man, he now realised, who knew his name, his position and yet Roman had never even thought to ask his. So, somehow, even stranger, he was known to his angel. Not a complete strangers mind after all.

Belatedly, Roman thought to take in his surroundings. He was lying on a heap of blankets and cushions, a haphazardly made bed that was far more comfortable than it looked, some part of him wanting nothing more than to just flop back down on them and sleep some more, hand lowering from his chest in order to touch one of the cushions. The fabric was soft under his fingers, something real it seemed. It wasn’t the forest floor where he had fallen. Cautiously, he looked around the place he found himself in.

Across the large room, slumbered the dragon.

He froze, barely daring to breathe as he stared across at the still beast, eyes growing wide. For what felt like an eternity he sat there, staring at the dragon and trying to calm his racing heart and thoughts. How did he get here? Why did the dragon seem to save him? What was he going to do now?

The idea of trying to land a sneak attack on the dragon never even occurred to him.

Roman slowly leaned forward, eyes caught by a flash of purple near the stomach of the giant beast. There was another homemade bed there, another figure slumped on it, one the dragon seemed to have gently coiled around, as though to protect him from the world at large. He frowned, trying to get a better look at the man, but from this distance it was impossible to gain more than a rough idea of male, still, purple hair. Wait, purple hair? Did that mean... could it be his angel? Is that what he had meant with his promise they would see each other again?

A faint hiss slipped from Roman as he starting to move from the bed he had been ungainly placed on, and while his wounds were healing nicely, they were by no means healed completely, the movements tugging at sensitive skin. Roman wasn’t sure quite how long he had been sleeping or how much magic had been poured into his body to accelerate the healing process but whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to completely cure him. If he wasn’t careful, he could tear open his stomach again and Roman really didn’t want to feel that level of pain again. He managed to awkwardly climb to his feet before an itch on between his shoulder blades made him look across the room once more. Large pale eyes were open, fixed on him.

Strange, he could have sworn they had been brown before.

All was quiet as they stared at each other, Roman for once at a loss for words. What did you say to someone who you had originally wholeheartedly planned to kill in ritual combat only to have them suggest you help people instead and then apparently help save your life? How could he find the words to thank him, explain that he had been doubting his mission before he realised he owed him his life as well as trying to get answers about what was going on.

To his surprise, it was the dragon that broke their staring contest first, eyes dipping down to glance at the sleeping human curled near him before looking back, and jerking his head in the direction of the door, faint morning light streaming in through the arch. Roman badly wanted to get closer to them, to see who the sleeping beauty was, but it didn’t take a genius to know that moving towards him would not be welcomed by the dragon or that it seemed to want to talk outside, where they wouldn’t disturb whoever it was.

Roman nodded carefully, skirting around the edge of the walls, intent on giving the dragon the space it clearly wanted and deserved. Whatever strange peace they had managed to create, he was reluctant to break it, no matter how curious he was as to the identity of the other man. Roman had his suspicions now of course, ideas that were too great and too terrible to even think and so he refused to give them credence.

Behind him, he could hear the sound of claws on stone as the dragon followed him, the knight exhaling slightly in relief. At least he had been right in what the head motions had meant, coupled with relief that the beast hadn’t decided to just roast him while his back was turned. It would have been a wholly ignoble way to die.

Soft morning light cut through the darkness of the interior, a golden doorway for him to step through, the knight taking a couple of deep breaths of fresh air as he did so. Roman only managed a few steps away from the door before something slammed into his back, knocking him roughly to the ground, his healing wounds screaming in protest. He twisted, barely managing to roll onto his back before the same force was pressing into his chest, Roman screwing his eyes shut as he arched a little and tried to swallow down the shout of pain that wanted to burst free. He could feel a heat in his stomach, the sensation of something warm running along skin and although Roman couldn’t check, he was sure part of his scar had burst open again, the pain sharp but not life threateningly so, more akin to a cut than a stab.

Heavy claws rested on his chest and on either side of his face, the sharp talons digging deep into the stone and he was just thankful they were there and not sinking deep into his flesh. Strange, Roman had never realised how sharp the claws of a dragon actually were, or quite how long they were, golden eyes shifting to stare at the one to the right of his head, at how deadly they looked and how easy it would be now for the dragon to finish him off once and for all, if that was his intention. Roman wiggled a little, trying to squirm free from the grip that had him pressed against the ground, needing to try and regain his footing, both figuratively and literally. Not that it made a lot of difference. He was helplessly pinned in place.

“You...” hissed the dragon, something wild and furious in his gaze, something that should have made Roman recoil in fear, but all he could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and this close there was a strange kind of savage beauty to the dragon, something enthralling in its own right. His gaping maw was so close, close enough for him to feel his hot breath washing over his face and this could be the end. The dragon certainly suddenly looked mad enough, another heavy huff of air blowing around his face, a blast of warmth and suflar. “You nearly died.”

Roman blinked a couple of times, waiting to see if the words or tone would magically make any kind of sense, if they would shift into something he could understand. They didn’t.

“So I gather. Why do you care?”

“Because you nearly took Virgil with you!” The dragon almost roared his words, and for a split second Roman honestly thought he was going to get a face full of flame before the answer actually sunk in. Virgil. Prince... Prince Virgil? The person asleep on the bed that the dragon had been so carefully guarding... of course, of course it would be the prince, who else would the dragon care about and protect in such a way?

Wait.

When had Roman ever decided that the dragon had cared about the Prince? He was a fire breathing dragon who had abducted a member of the royal family in order to adorn his hoard with a touch of class. He was the enemy in every sense of the world and everything Roman had been told and taught, pointed to him having to do battle with the beast in order to rescue the Prince and get the happy ending that he so badly wanted to earn. History proclaimed that the dragon and Roman were arch enemies, destined to clash in steel and blood. At it stood, the dragon had the upper claw right now. He held Roman firmly in his talons, and could kill him in any number of ways and there was next to nothing the knight would be able to do to defend himself.

Roman should be terrified, should either be begging for his life or thinking of some pithy last word that would be worthy of remembrance. He should be doing a lot of things and yet he simply lay there, staring up at pale eyes and a snout he strangely wanted to touch. He hadn’t wanted to fight the dragon at all, not for a while now, and there was no fear in his veins, no terror that he was about to die. The dragon wasn’t going to hurt him. If it had wanted to kill him, it could have easily just left him in the woods.

Instead, the black scaled beast had gathered him up and returned him to the castle. More than that, it had taken the time to create a bed for him to lie on instead of eating him or throwing him into some dark and dank pit where he could be kept but out of the way. The dragon had tended to him in however many days and nights he had been lying there, unconscious. If it wasn’t for the dragon - and for the Prince, his angel - then Roman would be worm food right now.

Which meant he needed to rethink some very basic truths. The dragon wasn’t the enemy and the Prince was in the hall he had just left. It felt as though everything was slotting into place in his mind, the final pieces falling perfectly into alignment, his previous half formed suspicions confirmed.

He had been wrong about the dragon from the start.

Not to mention he knew for sure now that the purple haired man was the Prince and, so it seemed, the one from his dream, the one who had risked his own life for Roman. His angel wasn’t an angel after all, a heated blush colouring his cheeks as he remembered his words, his thoughts, his feelings. He had fallen so hard in the dream, had seen the Prince and felt as though this was what love at first sight might be like. The angel was real. He was real and he was the Prince. How could he have thought such things about the Prince? Dreamed so very far above his own station? He was not supposed to have such thoughts about Patton’s intended because Virgil was not for him. He could never be his and Roman should stop daydreaming about his purple haired beauty because a knight was never supposed to be with a Prince. Especially a Prince that was destined to marry the man Roman had sworn to protect. Making Patton happy was more important than anything else in the world, even his own life, his own happy ending.

Prince Virgil had asked him to live for him.

That couldn't have been just to save his life and Roman had felt the truth of his words - he would never had let go of his hand even if that meant the pair of them had ended up falling into the water together. For whatever reason the Prince had been willing to die for him in order to try and save his life, despite barely having any idea who he was - there was no way he could have known he was connected to Patton. It still seemed too much to hope that it was for that reason, the tratious whispers of a heart that could not be silenced, even now, but he found himself hoping nevertheless. Hoping that there could be some way out of this maze of confusion that he seemed lost in.

“Is he okay?” Roman asked, voice hushed in contrast to the angry roar of his captor, and he barely registered the fact he was still trapped, more intent on learning if the prince was okay or not. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the sleeping form by the dragon, only enough to tell him that it had been a man but the fact he was asleep in the middle of the day was surely not a great sign.

“I thought he was dead at first.” The words were spoken almost matter of factly, without much emotion but there was an undercurrent of tension there, a hint of almost restrained anger and Roman couldn’t even bring himself to imagine what that must have looked like to the dragon, seeing the pair of them on the ground, both as still as death, blood staining clothes. At least the Prince hadn’t been physically injured but a mental wound could take just as long to heal as a physical stab.

The dragon breathed out, a wave of heat covering Roman’s face and reminding him acutely - as though he needed the reminder - that fire lurked in the dragon’s belly. He might not be afraid the beast was going to kill him but only a fool would ignore the danger of a dragon.

“He’s not dead though,” Roman offered at last, unsure of what else to say. Pale eyes snapped back to him, narrowing a little as though in dislike before giving a little annoyed huff and tilting his head a little to the side, acknowledging the words.

“Correct, Virgil is not dead. He will be fine... I hope. He was completely drained by his efforts, he gave so much to save you, poured so much of himself into you. He collapsed upon leaving your mind, and has slept ever since. What little I remember about dream walking and what I have witnessed of Prince Virgil’s powers, it took almost everything he had. He will hopefully just need more rest and wake soon.” The dragon paused, a frown filtering across his face as he watched him, apparently confused by something.

“Why aren't you afraid of me?”

Roman managed a faint smile, not quite at its normal dazzling strength but more honest than those he put on to disarm and distract his foes. He had been wondering that himself, ever since he had ridden back into the courtyard with the proof of completing the first task and realised the sight of enormous wings and dark scales no longer terrified him. Now that the question had actually been asked however, he realised the answer was the simplest thing in the world to say. It burned in his mind, a clarity that Roman hadn’t realised he had, a knowledge that gave him comfort and courage. He wasn’t afraid and the reason was so very obvious to him, Roman drawing in a short, sharp breath, his ribs aching at the motion before answering, voice steady despite the pain in his chest.

“Because Prince Virgil nearly died saving me. You won't hurt me. He doesn't want me to die, and you... you're not his gaoler. You're his friend.”

Chapter Text

The words seemed to hit the dragon like a physical blow, the beast actually releasing him and taking a couple of steps back, bumping into the wall of the castle. Roman pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch him but otherwise made no effort to stand on his feet. His stomach hurt more than he was willing to show, and some part of him even doubted he could stand without making some sign of pain or weakness. Not to mention the blood would surely run even more if he moved. It felt as if it might have stopped bleeding, the liquid starting to cool against his skin but he didn’t want to risk ruining either the fragile peace they had managed to create between them or the fragile way in which his skin had knitted back together. For some reason he didn’t want to accidentally make the dragon feel guilt about injuring him further.

“I'm right, aren't I, Fierce and Fiery,” Roman probed gently, staring at the dragon who was increasingly looking more and more like some kicked puppy instead of a fire breathing monster. If, of course, puppies were the size of small buildings and could eat people in two bites if the mood struck them. The dragon nodded jerkily, head looking for all the world as though it had been placed on a string and someone else was pulling it for him.

“He’s been my friend as long as I can remember,” he admitted and Roman knew he should be focused on the words and the breathtaking importance behind them, but all he could think was how the deep and booming voice of the dragon had suddenly been replaced by a much softer, almost sweeter tone. It was the sort of voice that wouldn’t have been out of place at one of the lectures on the physics of sword fighting he had gone to but was most certainly out of place coming out of the mouth of a giant flying lizard.

“What... what is that voice?” Roman was trying very hard not to laugh, aware that no matter the shift in voice, he was still a potentially deadly foe. Not that he saw him as such but he knew that laughing at someone that could literally squash you like a bug wasn’t the wisest action. The dragon scowled, leaning backwards on his hunches and for a second he could have sworn that the beast was pouting at him. It only reinforced his belief that despite his fearsome appearance, the black dragon was not his enemy.

“I can still eat you Thief Roman,” he threatened, still in that soft tone and somehow, Roman didn’t believe a word of it, as he grinned again, his confidence soaring, a dizzying rush of emotions running through him. Joy, pride, power, awe, they all spun around in his mind, creating a cocktail that he couldn’t clearly define, all his feelings running into each other. It was as though he had just run a marathon and come first place, the prize being a kiss from the fairest lad in the kingdom and his heart was fit to bursting. It was like the first time he held a sword with any kind of confidence, feeling the weight in his hand and adjusting his stance accordingly. It had felt right to him, as though his arm had always been missing a sword and for the first time in his life, Roman had felt as though he truly belonged.

“But you won’t.” The words were almost sung, the smirk never shifting from his face and if this was how he felt just knowing the dragon wasn’t actively trying to kill him then how much of a rush must it be to have something as powerful and awesome actually on your side? Not that he wanted to get too ahead of himself. Just because the dragon liked the prince, didn’t mean he could grow to like him. And Roman didn’t even know what he was going to do next, because while he never wanted to leave the Prince’s side - both out of loyalty and... other, feelings, there was still the duty he owed to his actual Lord. The beast sighed, sound interrupting his thoughts, hanging his head for a moment before straightening up again, stiff and formal.

“But I won’t,” he agreed with another world weary sigh, as though he was already regretting that decision as well as a lot of his other life choices before then adding. “My name is Logan.”

“Logan? Wait... the Logan? Patton’s Logan?” Roman gasped, eyes wide in undisguised shock. Again, his words provoked a physical reaction in the dra- no, in Logan, his own eyes widening in response. This was Logan? The Logan that Patton was always talking about, the Logan who owned the tie Patton would keep under his pillow and hold close when he thought nobody was looking. The Logan that owned his Lord’s heart and would forever.

Well... that explained why neither he nor Patton had ever been able to find any hint of the assistant librarian or even any trace as to the exile he had supposedly been sent on. It didn’t explain the how of it, but suddenly a giant black dragon protecting Prince Virgil and looking after him made a lot more sense when he added in the fact that he was actually the prince’s oldest and dearest friend in another form.

Maybe there could be a happy ending after all. Anything was possible and he just needed to keep faith. He had found Logan as well as Virgil and that was more than either of them had even dreamed of. Now he just needed to work out how to undo whatever curse his friend’s love was stuck under. If Logan was human once more, then he and Patton could perhaps be married. And if that was the case then maybe, just maybe, he and Virgil... no, he was getting ahead of himself once more. He hadn’t even spoken to the Prince outside of the dream world and he had no way of knowing what the other man even thought of him or wanted. For all he knew, Virgil was intent on marrying Patton and if that was the case then it wouldn’t matter what any of them wanted.

“You know Patton?” Logan asked, voice hushed and awed. He leaned closer, all traces of the previous grumpy mood and anger vanishing at the mere mention of the man. It made Roman smile a little inside, and he had never had the luxury of meeting Logan as a human, had never been able to judge if he was good enough for Patton or not. He still wasn’t completely sure if Logan was worthy of his Lord. Only the best person in the whole world was worthy of Patton and although it wasn’t romantic love, Roman was more than a little enthralled by the other man. Patton was so very good, so pure. He was everything that Roman could have ever hoped for in a Lord to serve.

His mother was another matter, but she was labouring under an intense amount of pressure. It must be a terrible burden to have to rule, a burden that was made all the worse by the fact she hadn’t been raised with that destiny in mind, when she had been thrown into looking after a throne against her will.

He was sure she would be delighted to discover that Virgil was alive and well. Just as she would be pleased to learn Logan had survived, and perhaps with her own magic, together, they would be able to find a cure.

It was a good thing, looking back, that nobody had been able to find Virgil and Logan earlier, back when Logan was still a convicted traitor. Two years after joining Patton’s service, driven by a desire to try and make his Lord happy, Roman had started a secret investigation into the events surrounding Logan’s apparent crimes. Things had seemed suspicious, and he had only grown more confused and convinced there was something else going on, the more he dug into it. Eventually, Roman had managed to find evidence that Logan had been framed. Not only that, but he had been framed by the one person outside of the Royal Family that they should have been able to trust - The Queen Mother’s personal cook and lately, her mentor in magic, the regent seeking new ways to try and find the lost heir. What better way could there be than magic?

Roman had laid the evidence before the Queen and her council at the earliest opportunity. She had been disbelieving at first, unable to comprehend that she had been betrayed so badly, but the evidence was unshakable and by the end of the hour long meeting, orders had been sent out to arrest and execute the cook.

The Queen Mother had promoted him to be Patton’s personal guard as a reward for his efforts in unmasking a traitor, one that had wounded her so badly by being so close to her, and he had seen her shed many a tear when she thought she was alone. She had also promised that Logan would be recalled from his exile and be fully reinstated, but there was no trace of him to be found. It was as though he had vanished off the face of the earth, and alone with Roman, the Queen Mother had uttered the dreadful worry that her cook might have had Logan killed, for whatever reason. The same, mysterious reason as to why she had done any of this and not for the first time, Roman found himself wishing that they had delayed in putting the old witch to death, had at least tried to get some answers out of her first.

Roman had never told Patton that theory, had not wanted to give it any kind of credence but at the time, he had thought it had made some horrible kind of sense. He supposed cursing Logan into a dragon was another good explanation, even if it didn’t solve the why or what she had hoped to gain from it all. Unless she was acting out of some misguided belief that Logan was standing between what she thought Patton really wanted but that was for Virgil to decide, nobody else. What little he knew of the Prince convinced him that he would never have forced such an issue.

Patton had still wanted to look for Logan, had still keep his secrets, his feelings hidden, not wanting to distress his mother further. So no, he wasn’t convinced yet that Logan deserved Patton, but that reaction was a very good start.

“He’s my lord! He’s the one who sent me on my quest!” Roman told him brightly. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, Logan instantly coiling back on himself, shrinking down as though he could make his giantantic frame smaller. As though remembering suddenly that Roman had first ridden in here with a song in his heart and a plan to kill him.

“Oh, he doesn’t... he doesn’t know the dragon is you or anything. And it's not like he wanted to save Prince Virgil because he wanted to marry him, he still doesn’t. He just... he just wants his friend to be happy and he thought he wasn’t.” His word didn’t seem to be helping, and it felt as though he was merely digging a deeper and deeper hole with every breath he took, as Logan’s face became more and more heartbroken. Who knew a dragon’s face could be this expressive? Roman needed to fix this. Somehow. He was a man of action but he was also a man of words, a man who could find beauty in a poem or lose himself in endless stories, who was fully capable of dreaming whole worlds to life in his spare time.

There was nothing more beautiful than the truth. Patton had sworn him to secrecy on this but hopefully in this situation he would be able to forgive him for breaking his word. It wasn’t as though Logan was going to betray him to his mother. And it was more than just wanting to tell him, Logan very clearly needed to know.

Carefully, Roman climbed to his feet, unable to suppress the small wince the movement created. He moved towards Logan, trying to chose his words carefully.

“He talks about you, you know. A lot. He misses you... he... he smiles so much and yet I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him smile, you know?” Roman lifting a hand to run it through his hair, frustration building that at this important moment he can’t seem to find the words he is struggling for, the ones that would make it clear how much Patton loves him. How he has never stopped loving him no matter what his mother does or says, no matter how she tries to distract him. How he talked of Prince Virgil his friend in a warm tone but when he could be convinced to speak of Logan it was always tingled with a deep sadness - and an even deeper love. The type that could stand any storm, even one like this.

He looked up, having to tilt his head back in order to actually meet his gaze now he was closer and paused, mouth dropping open slightly.

Logan’s eyes were dark brown.

He was sure those eyes had been pale when the conversation first began. No, not just sure. Convinced. Certain. Positive. And every other word that meant the same thing. Something was going on here. Something very wrong, a feeling of dread starting to form in the pit of his stomach.

“You care for Patton,” Logan said, each word slow and measured, as though he had considered every single syllable before uttering them, even more carefully than Roman had. It was as though he hadn’t heard or didn’t want to react to what Roman had been saying mere moments before, lost a little in his own head.

“You... care for Virgil. In a different way. You will look after him, and you are a knight. You are honour bound to protect your Prince, against anything, no matter personal feelings or emotions am I correct?”

“I am.” Roman didn’t like where this was going but he nodded anyway, feeling his whole body tense as though in readiness for a blow, the sense of dread shifting into a scream that this was wrong, oh so very wrong. He had seen enough of war and death to recognise danger when it reared its head even if he couldn’t yet describe what the danger was. It was still here, menacing in the air around them.

“I was... cursed. As you can obviously see. The Queen Mother did not take kindly to my relationship with either her son or Prince Virgil. She deemed me... surplus to requirements and decided to have me changed into something that she could use. Thankfully, Virgil found me and released me before she could deliver on that promise but it did not alter the fact that I was now a dragon...” Logan trailed off once more, each word seemingly to become more and more of a struggle to say.

Roman knew he should be focused on the matter at hand, but it felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of him, a shrill ringing in his ears drowning out everything else. The... the Queen Mother had done this? But she... she had been so pleased to learn that Logan had been innocent of the crimes he had been accused of, so pleased that a friend of shy Prince Virgil was still a friend. She had seemed so sad when no trace of him could be found and had promised that all efforts would be made to locate him.

Now that he thought about it, she had seemed terribly eager to throw her one time mentor to the wolves, and it should have taken longer than that one hour to convince her. At the time, Roman had simply put it down to his own convincing performance in presenting his case but it had clearly been more her desperate to cover her own tracks further.

Gods, had the old woman even been involved in it at all, or had he sent an innocent woman to her death? The mere thought made him feel sick, blood draining from his face as he wondered what he had been a part of, how she had used him.

Part of Roman wanted to beg him to stop, to just stop, because he knew whatever he was about to learn was something he didn’t want to know and he was already struggling with these newest revelations. He wasn’t convinced he could handle anything further. A door was about to be opened and it was cowardly of him but he didn't want to see what was behind it. Then again, it didn't seem like he was going to have a choice, because Logan seemed to have regained his strength and was talking once more.

“However. It was not just my body she cursed to this form. My mind... slips as well. It shifts backwards and forwards, between what was and what now is. Between a man and a monster.”

“Is that why your eyes keep changing colour?” Roman asked, momentarily distracted from all the dread and fear that was piling up inside of him, a little part of him inwardly relieved that at least he hadn’t been going mad with that particular thing.

“Indeed. Dragon’s naturally have pale eyes and Virgil has recounted to me that when the curse has me firmly in its grip, the colour in my eyes drain away accordingly. It is getting harder Sir Roman.”

That struck him as ominous. Logan had never once referred to him with his correct title. He found himself flexing his left hand, fingers tightening and then loosening around an imaginary sword hilt, and he wished desperately for his weapon. Not that there seemed a physical foe to battle but he didn't know how else to combat this, Logan’s words sending wave after wave of ice through him, chilling him all the way down to the bone and beyond.

Logan bowed his head, his long neck enabling him to cancel out the height difference between the pair of them so that he could move right into Roman’s personal space, his snout almost touching him, until they were eye to eye.

“Harder to come back to who I was, harder to remember why I care of books, or learning or god help me, harder to remember why I care for Virgil beyond his role. Harder to remember what... what the sight of dimples and a sunkissed nose did to me once upon a time. Harder to be me. Virgil doesn't know, doesn't realise how deep I fall and how hard it really is so I need you to swear to me. Swear that you will kill me when I lose my battle against this disease that is running through me. When I see Virgil as nothing more than a trophy and I take him against his will. Do not allow sentiment to get in the way of what must be done. I do not wish to live like that and I will not condemn Virgil to a life as an actual prisoner. Swear to me you will do your duty Sir Roman.”

Roman stared deeply, almost transfixed, into eyes that were still a rich, chocolatey brown. Now that they were so close, he could make out all the tiny little details, the swirl of a grey mixing with the brown, the little jagged lines of a pale, colourless shade mingling at the very edges of his irises, the soul of the dragon battling with the parts that were still human. There was only one thing he could say to all of that.

“I swear,” he promised solemnly. He could only hope it would never come to that. Patton would never recover from it and while he had yet to officially talk to Prince Virgil, he had a feeling neither would he.

“Good. Good.” The large dragon genuinely looked pleased by his response, as though a great weight had been lifted from him and Roman couldn’t help but wonder how long that particular nightmare had been floating around inside his head. Even Roman, famed for his wild flights of fancy and his eagerness to go and do every new experience on offer, couldn’t imagine what it had to feel like to be that afraid of yourself.

“How...” Roman paused, clearing his throat a little against the sudden lump that had formed there and this was all too much, too heady. He needed a moment, needed to shift the conversation into something slighter less... crushing. The knight wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences of what he had just agreed to do if the need arose. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Five days. Today is the sixth day... but I suppose today doesn’t count, does it. At least, not for you.”

Brown eyes flickered away from Roman, the dragon gazing instead into the darkened hall where the Prince still slumbered. Who knew when Virgil would wake up? Or even if he would?

No, no. He was going to wake up. He had to. Roman had woken up, and he didn’t feel any other presence in his mind which surely would imply that Prince Virgil’s mind had returned to his own body, which had to mean it was merely a matter of time before he woke up.

“I’m sorry,” Roman told him honestly. “I didn’t... I would never have wanted him to risk his life in any way, especially for me. I’m supposed to be the protector.”

“I believe you,” Logan replied, voice still that softer tone and it was still as odd as the first time he had heard it coming from the giant beast. “Unfortunately, intent rarely matches up to reality. Virgil is very much his own person and would resent any implication that we have any say in what he chooses to do and who he desires to personally help. For whatever reason he has seen something in you right from the start...”

Logan’s ears suddenly twitched, head cocking to the side for a moment, his words trailing to a stop. Roman meanwhile felt as though for what felt like the hundredth time, that his world was reeling and shifting under new information.

Who had decided to send him on these quests given to him by Logan anyway? From what he had just said, it certainly hadn’t been the dragon, who didn’t seem to understand why Prince Virgil had been willing to risk himself for Roman. To be far, Roman didn’t understand that either, but then he hadn’t been involved in the discussion. How could Virgil have been the one to start all of this, when he hadn’t even been there.

He had been there, hadn’t he. Roman’s whole purpose for coming to this castle in the first place had been in that courtyard the first time he had entered it, and he hadn’t even noticed. Roman was so blind sometimes. Such an idiot, and he had to do better. Even if it had been a good thing he hadn’t noticed, that it had given them time and a chance for Roman to realise Logan was not his foe.

“My Prince has woken. He... he is okay.” The relief was evident in Logan’s voice, his whole body sagging a little as the dragon exhaled. Clawed feet pawed at the ground, idly scraping gashes across the stone work, an intent look in his eyes as he listened to the softest of sounds. Roman couldn’t hear anything from inside but it stood to reason that Logan had much better hearing than he did.

“I need to clear my head...” Logan muttered, stretching his wings out to their full, magnificent size.

“Don’t you want to see him awake?” Roman asked and that was all he wanted to do, to finally talk to his Prince, to try and learn some answers to the many questions that swirled around his mind but as much as he wanted that, he respected the bond between them too much to simply go in first. Logan had been awake and waiting all these days, Logan needed to speak to him.

The dragon shook his head.

“I shall see him when I return. I trust you will not try and steal him in my absence?”

“Of course not! He wouldn’t go with me anyway Logan,” Roman replied and it didn't take a genius to understand the strong bond of loyalty between the two. There was no way that Virgil would simply abandon Logan, no way he would let himself be taken away, not even by someone he had wanted so badly to save, for whatever reason.

“No, I suppose not...” Logan mused softly, looking away. His next words were low, quiet and Roman was sure he wasn’t even supposed to hear them.

“Perhaps he should.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until Logan had vanished over the walls of the castle that the moment really sunk in for Roman. It was more than simply the dragon believing that he wouldn’t try and run off with Virgil the second they were alone - as the script said they were supposed to, a knight rescuing a prince. Logan was trusting him to keep Prince Virgil safe from any other dangers. It was an awesome responsibility, one that he fully intended to live up to. It also meant they would be alone, Roman swallowing heavily at the thought, his eyes fixed on the doorway, the sound of soft footsteps growing louder and louder.

Until, quite suddenly, Prince Virgil was standing there. The angel from his dream world, the one who had dragged him from the water, given him back his sword, his means to defend himself. The one who had smiled and promised they would meet again. The one who had asked Roman to live for him as they hung in an impossible situation. He was an impossible creature, something of dreams and magic made flesh, Roman staring at him as though half afraid he might vanish back into the ether at the slightest sound, as though despite all the things he knew to be true, the angel might be nothing more than some figment of his imagination.

The other man was yawning slightly, one hand patting at his hair in a futile effort to try and claim some order to the messed up bed hair, the purple refusing to lie flat or behave. He was even more handsome cast in morning light, sleepy and without any pretensions on either side.

That just wasn’t fair.

Virgil suddenly seemed to realise he was being watched, freezing mid movement, his eyes slowly sliding over to meet Roman’s gaze. Any lingering doubts he might have had about if Virgil had really been in his dream with him and if he would remember was washed away by the way he blushed and lowered his gaze, cheeks stained a bright red. Even that was attractive, and that really wasn’t fair.

“Where... where is Logan?” Virgil asked after a long pause, his hand finally moving away from his hair to curl instead around a pendant hanging from his neck. Roman couldn’t really get a good look at it but now that he thought about it, he was sure he had seen something similar wrapped around Logan, the gem seeming out of place on an otherwise unadorned beast. The prince glanced to the side, as though listening to something only he could hear, the grip on his pendant relaxing slightly after a couple of moments.

“Logan said he needed to clear his head. I’m sure he will be back soon,” Roman replied, Virgil giving an almost distracted nod, as though he wasn’t really listening anymore. Which made no sense surely. At least Prince Virgil didn’t seem worried anymore, didn't appear to doubt his words.

A thousand thoughts ran through Roman’s mind as he stared at him, struck anew by how handsome he was and how very far he had fallen in response. But it was more than that, more than just his stunning looks, more than the slight upturn of lips that hinted at the start of a smile. It was everything he knew about the man, the person who had saved a dragon, who had thought nothing of diving into a dying mind in a last bid attempt to save them. It was someone who looked shy and ill at ease in a world he was supposed to rule, who had clearly never let his position ever get the better of him. It was the Virgil he heard in the stories Patton would sometimes share, the man who thought nothing of helping his own fiancé arrange meetings with the man he actually loved simply because it was the right thing to do.

Looking back, he supposed he had always been a little bit in love with Prince Virgil. At first it had been the love of an idol, seeing the Prince as someone to look up to, to worship from afar. When he had been training to become a knight, he had been more an ideal than an actual person. Gradually however, it had changed into something more real, every story he had heard only adding to that swoop in his stomach. Even the less than complimentary stories had only deepened his feelings and who were those people to insult their rightful ruler so. Just because at first glance they had believed him to be slow or damaged in some way didn’t actually mean he was. Everyone thought Roman was nothing more than a overly dramatic knight at first glance, few took him seriously and even fewer took the time to actually get to know him and see below the surface.

And anyway, everyone was damaged by life to some degree. Why should a Prince be the exception? It didn’t make him any less worthy or brilliant. It didn’t change the way Roman just wanted to find him, save him, make him proud. It didn’t change those other emotions, ones he had come to terms with as... a crush for want of a better word. It couldn’t be anything more, because he had never even seen anything more than a portrait - the painters hadn’t done Virgil justice. Meeting him had just reinforced those feelings.

Roman had never for one moment thought he would act on those emotions, had tried to bury them as deep as he could. Virgil was not his and could never be his, Virgil was destined for greatness and if he was lucky, he was destined to stand a few paces behind and beside him while he did it. Nothing more. If it wasn't Patton, it would be some other great and grand noble, someone worthy of his Prince. It could never be him, Virgil would never look at him like that and he should repress all feelings like that and focus on what he could achieve - like saving him. A foolish and futile idea now that he stood in the cool morning air before him.

He wanted to kneel in front of Prince Virgil and cut out his own heart, to offer it up to him, as unworthy as it was.

There was just one inconvenient truth with that wish. One problem with wanting to give him his heart.

Prince Virgil already owned it.

“So, Sir Roman...” Virgil’s voice was as low as he remembered, a gentle rumble like passing thunder, something comforting and he wanted to bask in the sound of his name spoken by the prince forever. It did strange things to his insides, twisting them up in knots and he only hoped he wasn’t as obvious on the outside as he felt on the inside. “Welcome back to the land of the living. I’m glad you’re okay, that you’re awake at last. Well... that both of us are awake. It must have been a while.”

“Six days Logan said,” Roman replied. Virgil nodded, shifting a little as he stood there, as though suddenly uncertain how he was supposed to stand and act around Roman. Which was crazy surely. Roman was his knight, was sworn to obey him in any way he could, and when he wasn’t actively carrying out his orders, it was a knight’s role to be invisible, to blend into the background. A watchful guardian but a piece of the furniture. Virgil was never supposed to be awkward around him, was never supposed to think like that about him at all.

Unless, of course, Prince Virgil had some very different thoughts about him. Ones that Roman shared, but would never have dreamed to act upon no matter how badly he might hope.

“Yes... dream walking is... taxing. But as I said Sir Roman, I am glad you have recovered.” Virgil seemed to be blushing more than ever even as he repeated himself, words stilted and a little unsure. It must have been years since he had talked to anyone other than Logan, Roman feeling his heart ache a little at that. All this time hiding in a castle, afraid, unsure, lost without any human interactions and a friend that no doubt tried his best. Logan must have suffered just as badly from the isolation, it wouldn’t have helped him to retain his humanity. Despite all of that, Virgil still hadn’t hesitated to do what he believed was right, had saved Roman as though he had spent his whole life training to do just that.

“Thanks to you. Thank you. For coming after me. I didn’t know you could do that,” Roman replied, slowly taking a step towards him, unable to resist the temptation to close the gap between them. Virgil didn’t seem to mind at least, that same little tug of a smile on his lips as he ducked his head a little and Roman couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like if he smiled fully, without any self conscious thoughts. Without the weight of the world that seemed to be pressing down on him. There and then, Roman made a silent vow to make sure he did whatever it would take to see that smile on his face and as often as he could.

“To be honest, neither could I,” Virgil admitted and that - that was surprising. He had simply assumed it was something the Prince could do thanks to his heritage and while none of the stories he had heard had touched on his magical abilities, he knew how powerful the royal line and their blood was supposed to be. It was also worrying, that he was willing to risk himself like that and the Prince was far too precious to allow him to throw himself into such deadly situations.

Roman had a feeling however, that just as Logan had said, Virgil wouldn't take too kindly to being told he wasn't supposed to do things. For all the clear shy behaviour, he held himself in a way that betrayed instantly who he was, now he could see him in normal light. Here was a man born to rule and confident in his power to do so. Or rather, here was a man born to rule and he could become so confident if given the means and a reason to. He was going to become a great king one day, Roman knew it.

“I just reacted,” Virgil said after a pause, unaware of the thoughts swirling in Roman’s mind. “I wasn't about to let you die. It took a lot out of me, I bet Logan was starting to despair about either of us waking up.”

Despite the still stiff edge to his words, Roman could almost taste the pain within, the flicker of something deep and haunting crossing Virgil’s face as he thought of how Logan would have fared in those days on his own, stuck with two unconscious people, waiting and hoping that they would float back up to the surface and wake up.

“Are you... are you sure Logan is alright?” Virgil asked hesitantly. “When you talked to him, he still seemed... he seemed okay?”

Ah. Logan. In the rush of actually seeing and speaking to Prince Virgil, he had almost forgotten about his conversation with the dragon and the promise he had given. He couldn't even get excited about the implications of Prince Virgil saying he couldn't let him die, not with the memory of a deadly serious Logan, earnestly pressing him to promise to do what needed to be done if it came to it.

“About Logan...” Roman trailed off, unsure of what to say. Or even if he should say anything. No, no, he had to talk to him about it. Virgil deserved to know, and it wasn't as though Roman had been sworn to secrecy by the dragon. “He uh... he told me a little about what happened, how he became a dragon, about the Queen. I had never been particularly fond of her but even I had never believed she was capable of such villainy. He also told me how, uh. How he is... struggling a little bit. With... well... with things.”

“I already know, Roman,” Virgil told him softly. Roman blinked a couple of times, and he didn’t know how many shocks to the system he could carry on taking. How could Virgil know?

“Look I love Logan but he isn’t nearly as sneaky as he thinks he is. A giant dragon trying to hide the fact that he’s moving gold into the castle?” Virgil shook his head, a fond smile on his face as he thought back to nights when he had watched Logan try and quietly enter the building, hiding his spoils in large claws as best he could. It wasn’t a fond memory in so much as what was happening but it was a fond moment because it was Logan and everything with his best friend was wonderful. He bit lightly at his bottom lip, Roman distracted for a moment by the action and how impossibly soft his lips actually looked.

This was not the time to be thinking such thoughts. He was supposed to be better than that, and his only saving grace was that Virgil was oblivious to the unworthy thoughts trying to force their way to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he merely continued talking.

“I know he’s losing his fight okay, I've had to talk him back to himself a number of times, had to make him remember who he really is. I know his dragon urges win out more and more these days. It doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything!” Roman protested and didn’t Virgil realise how dangerous an untamed dragon could actually be? It was one thing to be friends with one and work together but another thing entirely to live with one that held you captive merely because you were another treasure. Virgil shook his head rapidly, his whole body stiff and unyielding.

“It doesn’t. I’m not going to abandon him, and you’re not going to hurt him. Even if he... if he... I can’t leave him. Not after everything we’ve been through. He’s like this because of me, at least if I’m here I can calm some of the worst excesses,” Virgil told him, tone serious, as though he honestly believed it, as if he genuinely thought he could talk some sense into a dragon that cared for nothing but gold and riches. He had never faced a dragon that was a real enemy, who would think nothing of locking him up because Virgil was a treasure pure and simple.

“What about your kingdom? Your people need you Prince Virgil.” He couldn't let him make such a mistake, by the time he realised it was a mistake, it would be too late to escape. Maybe they would be lucky, maybe it would never actually get that far but they had to make plans for the worst case situation and Virgil had to think of more than his own wants. He had to put the needs of the many against the one, it was how he had been raised. It had to be how he had been raised, he was a good man and a good man wouldn’t think only of one.

Not that Roman meant to demean him or act as though it was an easy choice, it wasn’t, it was the hardest thing possible to decide. To give up on a friend for even the most noblest of reasons was the hardest thing in the world, and yet it was the thing that Virgil had to do. Not let his own fears and idealistic hope get the better of him because signing away his life to a treasure hungry dragon that didn’t care for him was the wrong choice and even Logan thought so, Logan who had pleaded for death over the life Virgil was imagining for them both. It was also, apparently, the wrong thing to say, Virgil flushing a bright angry red, so different from the blush of before.

“My people need a ruler who is worthy! Someone who can be in a room with more than two people and actually have the courage to speak! I can’t even undo a simple curse! If I can’t save my best friend, how the hell am I supposed to be able to look after a whole kingdom? How can I defend them against the machinations of the Queen Mother, when she can outpower and outwit me at every turn?” As rapidly as the anger had come, it faded away once more, leaving him looking drained and downright defeated, his whole body sagging slightly.

He looked decades older than he actually was, world weary, almost crushed by everything he had been forced to endure in his actually short life. The pain of the past was like a living scar in his eyes, hinting at depts far deeper - and darker - than anyone would ever wish to go. Roman never wanted to see him look like this again.

“I cannot be a King, Roman, I barely know how to be me. I cannot... I cannot protect those I love, I have to watch my best friend fade away, day by day right in front of my eyes... and you ask me to turn my back on him and return to a life of chains and watching anyone I care for die? My decision is final, Sir Roman. I will not abandon my friend in his time of need and I cannot return until I have discovered a way to defeat the Queen Mother.”

He lifted a hand to his face, dragging it down over his eyes - eyes, that Roman suddenly realised were shining in a way that meant tears, not just bright with passion. The weight Roman had imagined resting on Virgil’s shoulders suddenly seemed all the more real, a deadly weight crushing him. And he had been dealing with this all on his own, without anyone to guide or support him. Virgil hadn’t even talked to Logan about it, had just taken on the pain himself and tried to struggle along as best he could. Then along he came and demanded he be fine with letting Logan die. It was selfish of him, selfish to expect him to be able to do things it took rulers decades to learn simply because that was what the stories all said Kings were supposed to do. Selfish that he still hoped that Virgil could see sense, that he would agree to saving himself if the worst should actually befall Logan.

“Can we... can we talk of something else. Please?” Virgil asked softly, voice fragil. There would be time enough later, Roman decided, to revisit this topic, to hopefully discuss an alternative, to work out what they were going to do. To see how they could save Logan and save Logan they would. Not only because it would make Virgil and Patton happy, but because it was the right thing to do. There had to be a choice which would give them a better outcome than this.

He couldn’t see it yet but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. There were lots of things he couldn’t see but they still existed. The answer was there, it was simply a matter of searching for it and finding it, just as he had searched for Virgil. In the meantime, he was just going to have to make sure that nothing terrible happened. He was going to have to make sure that Logan didn’t lose that fight, so that Virgil would never be faced with his impossible and wrong choice. There was no choice here though, no doubt in his mind as to how he would reply to Virgil’s request.

“As you wish.”

Roman bowed dramatically to him, giving his Prince the warmest smile he could, hand finding Virgil’s own to lift it to his lips, brushing a very gentle kiss across his knuckles. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that the faintest of shivers brushed through Virgil’s form at the contact, could have sworn that those cheeks which were already stained a delicate pink grew more pronounced as though he was blushing deeper. It would have taken a man with a heart of stone not to agree to his request, not to be moved by the compassion and love shining in tear stained eyes, the loyalty that was so strong in Prince Virgil’s whole being. It would have taken a monster not to be in awe at the love these two friends had for each other, not to see that it would be near impossible to shake the trust they had for each other.

Most of all, it would have taken a man far colder than Roman not to wish one day to have those emotions reflected back at him and hope that he could inspire such feelings within the purple haired prince.

Chapter Text

Morning’s had never been on even the top five favorite parts of Virgil's day. Mornings should be banned and although it would be a terrible misuse of power, there were times when he dreamed of doing just that once he became King. No business at all before noon.

Now that was a good dream.

Left to his own devices, he rarely woke before the sun was high in the sky, and would end up staying up until late into the night. Often it would become so late, it wound back round to being early.

This morning however, he woke on his own, before the sun was over the walls of the castle. What was more, he woke up in a good mood, with a smile on his face, Virgil giving a lazy stretch as he allowed himself to come gently back to the land of the living instead of the nightmare ridden jolt to consciousness that was normally his way of waking up.

It had been nearly a week since Roman had woken up. Nearly a week since they had first started to talk. Nearly a week since the knight had smiled at him and the swarm of butterflies in his stomach had still refused to settle down into anything he could control. Nearly a week since that first official meeting and each day with Roman had seemed more wonderful than the last, as he learnt more and more about the knight. He had been able to hear the latest news about Patton as well, eagerly taking in everything Roman had to offer, drawing some comfort in knowing that the other man had at least not been alone all this time.

Really, Virgil needed to draw all the comfort he could from hearing that Patton had something. Abandoning him to his mother’s tender mercies had been the cruelest thing that Virgil had ever done, as well as the most selfish. And selfishly, he needed that excuse now, needed to know that it hadn’t all been bad.

Guilt settled around him like an old familiar friend, returning for an embrace after a short absence. Guilt at how he had left a friend behind. Guilt at how he had known in his heart that the Queen Mother would have been furious at his escape, a fury that she could have so easily directed towards the one person who had thought to defy her and still remained within her reach. By all accounts, she hadn’t actively taken it out on Patton, but that was scant comfort now. Because she could have done, and for all they knew, in the privacy of her own apartments, she had done just that. Not to mention, there were other ways to wound than physical.

Virgil couldn’t shake the guilt, the feeling that he should have at least tried to help Patton more. It didn’t matter that none of the plans had seemed workable, that despite working long hours into the night over and over again, he had never been able to come up with a way to sneak his sometimes brother out of the castle. He should have still tried.

There was still a chance that the plans - no matter how improbable - could have worked, and that they could have managed to get Patton to safety. How different these last few years would have been, if Patton had been with them, sharing in this castle that they had found. They would probably have eaten better for a start, because he had always been concerned with making sure everyone was healthy in body as well as in soul. Virgil, in comparison, only ate when he remembered too, entranced by the luxury of being able to do just that. Here, in his castle, there was no ceremony, there was no three hour banquets every couple of days with boring people.

He didn’t need to waste time eating and as a consequence there were days when he completely forgot to until his grumbling stomach had reminded him. It wasn’t healthy but it was freeing. Patton would have looked after him. Patton would have kept both their spirits up when Virgil had failed yet again in discovering a cure to the curse. Patton wouldn’t have let Logan sink as far into the dragon mindset as Virgil had done. Patton would have been a far better friend to them both and one that Virgil knew he didn’t really deserve.

Of course, that would have changed so many other things in all of their lives. Without Patton, what would have happened to Roman? Without any prince, would he have climbed as high as he did? Perhaps he would have focused all of his attention on the Queen Mother instead, becoming her faithful guard. Virgil might never have met him - or at least, might never have known him, but simply ranked him as someone not to be trusted because he was so close to her.

The thought of perhaps never meeting and knowing Roman was a painful one, something heavy and cold wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing hard. He didn’t know if the trade was a fair one, but it was how events had played out. Virgil only hoped that it would prove to be correct, that despite the guilt that still cuddled him close, it would turn out that things had worked out for the better by leaving Patton behind and giving him this chance to find Roman, sweet, kind, naive Roman.

Virgil wasn't an optimist at heart, he wasn't a dreamer. Things were going well for him right now, he had a chance to get to know someone new, someone he badly wanted to impress. He was able to relax and smile, to even laugh now and then, but Virgil wasn't build for happy. He wasn't designed to be content without something crawling out of the woodwork to ruin that. He didn't deserve to be happy, not when so many people - including the people he cared about more than anyone else in the world - were unhappy.

He knew only too well that this strange little bubble they had created around themselves was going to burst sooner or later. And that, when it eventually did, the comedown was probably going to be all the worse for it. He knew this, and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away as he normally would, to wrap his heart in several layers in an attempt to protect it from the pain that was coming. It was as though he was back on the edge inside Roman’s mind, staring over the edge with the vertigo of the moment daring him to jump - or fall.

It wasn’t a perfect idyllic life, by any means. Logan had started to spend more and more time apart from him, had even refused his offer of their normal weekly reading night. He claimed he didn’t want to interrupt what was growing between his Prince and Roman, and while Virgil could almost smell the lie in the words, he didn’t know how to confront him on it. At least he hadn’t been trying to smuggle more gold and treasure into the castle.

Virgil couldn't lie, he was worried about Logan. He was worried about the thoughts that had to be pressing down on his friend, the desires that were not his own swirling around in his mind. Every day, Logan battled so hard and for so long, every day he managed to cling onto himself and Virgil had no idea where he found the strength but yet again, selfishly, he was so glad he did. He knew he couldn’t survive all of this without Logan, he wasn’t strong enough.

He was worried about the way his friend pulled away from all attempts to talk to him, but Virgil didn’t know how to fix it. Logan could be as stubborn as a Prince when the mood struck him and he was certainly keen on being stubborn now. Logan had never been a fan of feelings and talking about things in that manner, often to the extent of denying they existed at all.

To be perfectly honest, Virgil wasn't much keener on them either. Emotions could be the worse and it was easier to try and ignore them. You could solve problems without having to face the emotional aspect of the issue just fine. Emotions were needed here though. Emotions were the best thing to keep Logan himself, even if it was annoying him. Roman was good at getting that emotion out of him, which was probably another reason why he had taken to avoiding them both. Virgil was torn, worried he should be spending more time with Logan despite the fact that he was being so shut out. He was Logan’s best friend, it shouldn’t matter that the dragon was hiding from him, lurking in dark corners of flying where Virgil couldn’t easily reach, he should still - well, like everything else in his life, he knew he should be doing something.

If only desire could translate into reality without needing any actual details or clever plans.

The only positive was that he got to spend time with Roman as a result of Logan refusing to spend time with him. And selfishly, he wanted to enjoy these moments. It was so rare for Virgil to actually want something that seemed to be within his power to get and he really wanted to get to know Roman better, to see if he could trust the feelings that were growing within his heart.

He would make a terrible king. He was too selfish, too intent on his own desires, his own friends and their happiness. He was too wrapped up in making sure their needs were met that he could hardly spend any time thinking about the needs of the many, as a good king was meant to. Not to mention, he couldn't even make them happy, couldn't save Patton from his mother, couldn't lift a curse that was slowly transforming Logan into someone completely different. He couldn’t be the sort of Prince that he knew Roman thought he was. Roman looked at him and saw someone completely different, of that Virgil was sure.

Roman saw someone... someone good. Someone pure and brave and wonderful. He saw the sort of person that Virgil saw when he looked at him, not the mirror. Virgil knew he wasn’t good, not really. He wasn’t brave or noble and he didn’t recognize himself in any of the stories that Roman would share, tales that Patton had told him of their time together.

Trust Patton to somehow turn a shy awkward mess of a boy into someone wonderful. That was just Patton all over.

It was still something special. Something he was enjoying. So of course when he stretched again like some lazy cat and his fingers connected against paper, his first thought had been one of panic. He knew it was bad even before he sat upright and unfolded it, hand trembling so badly it was hard to make out the words written there in a flowery italic script he knew to be Roman’s despite never having seen it before.

My Dearest Prince Virgil;

By the time you read this, I shall have departed on my quest. Do not fear, I do not leave out of anger or hate, but out of duty. Out of love.

If you cannot return home until the Queen Mother has been removed from her position of power, then I have no option but to carry out those orders. She is a threat to the kingdom but her power rests on remaining in the shadows. Exposed, her lies and her position will melt away like the frost on the first spring morning.

I will save Logan, and insist she remove the curse that clings to him so that your friend and my Lord may be reunited, free to marry whom they wish with your blessing of course.

I will save you. So you may be free to do as you wish, to have by your side someone you chose, not someone that has been chosen for you. So you may rule and most importantly so you can be happy.

I hope it can be with me, but I do not presume. A look, a glance, a mere word is all I need to keep going. No matter your decision, I shall always belong to you, with you.

Yours with all my heart.

R.

Virgil had to read it a few times, just to make sure he fully understood what it was saying. It was romantic, a strange swirl of butterflies swooping around in his stomach, even as they warred with the dread of the rest of the letters content, the battle that he was planning to wage on his behalf.

How could Roman even doubt his feelings? Virgil knew he wasn't very skilled with them and even worse with actually expressing them but the idea that he might not want Roman beside him for the rest of his life was frankly ridiculous. He wasn’t sure, even now, how to describe his feelings when it came to Roman but he knew that a life without him was not a life worth living. Whatever had happened, had happened fast, unexpectedly, he had dived right into feelings and let himself feel it, no matter how terrified he had been, battered against the rocks of his own emotional confusion as he was swept down river to whatever end his feelings would take him to. He might doubt if he could trust those feelings or not, but he knew better than to ignore them this time, knew that no matter what happened, he would embrace them because they were just too powerful to resist.

To even smile at Roman had taken more courage that he thought he possessed, swallowing down his nerves and the internal screams of anxiety.

He didn't let just anyone kiss his hand after all. Or spend hours fantasizing on how it would have felt if Roman had been a different sort of knight, who wouldn't have stopped with just a chaste kiss against the hand but would have instead demanded more, tracing his outline with kisses. Not that he had wanted that. Part of what he liked so much about Roman had been the way he respected Virgil. Not just his position or the rank but how he seemed to actually respect Virgil himself for himself. He worried about stepping over boundaries that Virgil wasn’t ready to have crossed, instead of Prince Virgil. It was good. Roman was good.

But maybe he did want Roman to kiss him again, a real kiss this time. Maybe he felt more for Roman than he had first realised, more than a rush of emotion and the blush of a first crush, Maybe, but that wasn’t the thing he needed to focus on right now because the letter revealed an alarmingly large misunderstanding on Roman’s part. He was the idealistic type, Virgil had worked that out within minutes of talking to him. He was the sort who though the bad guys were all easily identified by the sinister outfits they wore, that good always triumphs over evil, and that a happy ending was pretty much a guarantee. It must be nice, to have such a focused idea of the world, to think that things were fair and worked the way that they were supposed to.

It was a sweet world Roman lived in, but it wasn't one that Virgil knew and lived in, it wasn't the real world. In that mindset, that world, Roman seemed to honestly think that all it would take to break the stranglehold the Queen Mother had on power would be a few placed words. A single speech detailing her many crimes and suddenly the whole of the kingdom would turn away from her.

As if she would even let Roman get as far as making a public speech.

As though Virgil hadn’t already considered trying to show the world what she had done.

As though he hadn’t tried to tell his tutors or other people in power about her when he was still living in the castle. As if anyone wanted to hear the truth or would listen. They were her creatures and her power was far more subtle, far more deep rooted than simple appearances. Not to mention the only thing the knight had as evidence was a second hand story without anything to back it up, lacking any way to show that his words were true.

Roman was going to march in there, surrounded on all sides by people whose primary loyalty was to the Queen Mother and accuse the most powerful woman in the kingdom of being a traitor. Without any proof.

He was going to get himself killed.

“Oh, the absolute idiot.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the spiral staircase of his tower that it actually hit him.

He loved Roman. Not maybe loved, not a crush that could become something more. Not a friend kind of love, not anything he had ever experienced before in his life. No, this was something completely new and potentially very, very frightening. He was deeply, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Sir Roman.

Sir Roman; An idiot who thought words and swords were enough against a duplicitous witch of a Queen who wouldn’t hesitate to use whatever sneaky and despicable tactics she had to in order to win. Who, if Virgil was very lucky, might just end up as a stone statue or transformed into a different animal but was more likely just going to end up dead.

No, he had to stop it. Somehow, he was going to stop it. He didn’t have so much as an inkling of a plan as to how he was going to stop it but Virgil wasn’t going to let something as minor as that get in the way of what had to be done. If the gods were on his side - when was lady luck ever on his side - then maybe he could reach the courtyard to stop Roman leaving. There was no way to know how long ago he had left but it was still early, far earlier than Virgil would have normally woken and maybe that would help him.

He managed another few steps down, limbs shaking a little as though the large stone slabs were somehow harder to navigate, as if alcohol was running through his system. He certainly felt a lot more giddy, torn between laughing with delight or crying with horror at the possible outcomes of his revelation. No. Revelations plural.

Because it wasn’t just Roman.

He loved Logan. In a completely different way of course. He had loved Logan for the longest time, his actions had proven it time and time again and yet in all of that, he had never actually stopped to consider the emotion behind his reasoning, had never stopped to think it was anything more than a friendship. A deep friendship sure, but nothing more. It wasn’t pity or guilt because of what had happened to him. It wasn’t a selfish emotion, trying to keep a powerful beast on his side and ensure that he could live as comfortable a life as possible. It was love. An all powerful, platonic love that screamed in his heart and raged as fiercely as dragon fire.

He loved Patton. Or at least, he thought he could, in time. If they could be allowed to spend time together without the threat of marriage hanging over their heads. Every little thing he had seen of Patton told him this was a man who was good and kind and worthy of so much more than the legacy of being his mother’s son. He cared for Logan and was true to the memory and hope of him, even without any word from him for years. Virgil would have fallen a little in love with him for that alone. But he was also Roman’s best friend. He was the bravest person he knew, because he dealt with the Queen Mother every day, he hadn’t run away and abandoned all his responsibilities, he was so much stronger than the prince could ever hope to be.

But maybe, with three of them by his side, he could learn to be. He could become a King worthy of his crown, thanks to them.

Virgil hadn’t realised there was room in his heart for one person, let alone three and yet here he was, feeling everything all at once. He loved them. He loved them all so very much, his heart feeling as though it might burst from the strain of emotions that were suddenly being unleashed within it, a majestic swelling of love and fear and hopehopehope.

He loved them all so much, he loved them, he lov-

“Well done Virgil.”

“Wh...what?” Virgil stumbled to a stop at the sudden voice, arms flying out to brace himself against the fall that was surely coming, his thoughts shuddering to an ungainly halt.

Somehow, he remained upright, blinking a couple of times as the surroundings came into gradual focus. He wasn’t standing on the stone stairs anymore, and what should have been a single large grey stone slab had somehow transformed itself into a rich plum purple carpet, a gold design marking the edges. Virgil lifted his head, staring around, the wonder clear on his face as he took in the bookcases, groaning with books. The fireplace at the side of the room was lit, logs crackling as they burnt, the sound soothing to his ears. The many paintings that lined the walls, all of them the work of a child and yet hung with pride as though they were the grandest works of art.

He... he knew this place.

His father’s study, the heart of his personal life, the place he would retreat in order to be a man as well as a king, a father as well as a ruler. A man who could grieve in private and who could surround himself with the things he truly cared about. The place he would bring Virgil when he wanted to talk about magic, when he wanted to show him just what he would one day be capable of.

He hadn’t been in here since the day his father died.

Everything was just as he remembered it. More so in fact, little touches that had seemed hazy in his recollections had taken on a sharper edge here. He had always known there were pictures on the walls, things he had done but try as he might he had never been actually able to remember more than vague images of them. Not that he had spent too much time trying to remember them - more often than not, he did his best not to think about this room and the wave of emotions it always inspired in him. It hurt to remember here.

Strange, it didn’t hurt so much to actually stand here. Virgil still didn’t understand how he was here, and maybe he had missed his footing after all on the stairs and was currently lying at the base of him, his head cracked open. Maybe his whole life was one messed up fever dream and he was going to wake up strapped to a bed screaming his head off.

Maybe he should just stop thinking such morbid thoughts and actually try and do something to work out what was going on. Virgil moved closer to the walls, staring at the paintings. The first few were little more that a swirl of colours, a random flail without any attempt at actual imagery. Even then, various shades of purple had been predominant.

Gradually however, some... well, Virgil would never call it skill or talent. Some determination? Some patience, and even a terrible artist would gradually improve with enough time poured into it. Whatever the word actually was, there was a marked level of improvement in the art as he had aged, the swipe of colours changing to buildings and animals. There was one of the castle’s cat, a scruffy long haired grey thing that in theory was supposed to catch mice but in reality spent most of its time stretched out in one sunning spot or another.

He had loved that stupid old thing. Virgil remembered making these now, fingers dragging along the paper, dipped in so many colours, creating a rainbow behind the cat. He remembered the smell of the paint as all the small pots were opened, his tutor in the arts towering over him. The man had been intimating without meaning to - then again, almost everything he had ever met had intimated him in one way or another. Even Logan had intimated him a little at first, with his smart he was and he had worried that he was only his friend because he had to be, because you couldn’t say no to a prince. He worried what kind of person it made him, that knowing that didn’t change his desire to hang out with the assistant librarian.

Painting had been particularly terrifying. He had enjoyed it, had found it relaxed him a little if he could just get into the mindset of the paint and just forget everything else around him, including the man breathing down the back of his neck. Virgil never thought he was particularly good at it, certainly not good enough for anyone to see which was a problem because that was the main reason he had started his paintings was a desire from the King to see his son create something, to get some idea of what was going on inside that quiet brain of his.

Every time he actually competed one and worked up the courage to show it to his father, the man would beam and speak of how proud he was of his son and insist on hanging it in his study there had then. He had been a good father. The best. And Virgil repaid that love by hiding away and denying his own birthright.

For a moment he paused in front of one with a child hugging a man in a crown. It was the last one he had drawn and it showed more maturity than any of the others. The ones before were of a small child exploring the world around them, or expressing feelings. This had been done by someone who was slowly starting to learn who he was, who was understanding the world around him. It was done by someone who was afraid he was going to be left behind in the new world order that included a new step mother.

He had been, just not, perhaps, in the way he had imagined or dreaded.

The world suddenly got very blurry, Virgil blinking furiously to try and will away the tears that wanted to fall a couple of times as he tried to focus on the image once more. Maybe this was a dream and he was starting to wake up. He lifted his hand to his face, dragging it across his eyes and studiously ignoring the wetness he could feel on his fingertips. He wasn’t crying. He couldn’t be crying because it was ridiculous that he might cry at the sight of an old room he hadn’t wanted to visit in years. No way was he crying, there was just something in his eyes, that had to be it. Sudden allergies in this world and staring at the artwork was only making them act up.

With a soft huff, he turned away from the walls to examine the furniture within the room itself, still ignoring all of the droplets of water on his face. There were a couple of chairs scattered around the room, pressed up against bookcases to allow people to read in comfort and he had always been impressed with how many items his father had been able to fit in the room and still achieve the impression of space. It had never seemed crowded in his memory and perhaps that had just been because of his age.

Either way, it all still seemed to fit perfectly, everything finding a place while still leaving plenty of room to move around in. Cosy but not cluttered. Virgil’s feet moved independently of his mind, drawn irresistibly towards the large desk at the far end of the room. Papers were strewn across it, a mixture of all the various bits of paperwork that came with being a King. He didn’t even bother to look at them, shifting around the desk to focus instead on the small collection of frames near the writing pad in the middle. There was a picture of Virgil himself, a younger, more innocent Virgil, staring timidly up at the viewer. There was also a couple of smaller ones, of his long dead grandparents but those weren’t the ones he had come to look at.

The portrait that rested pride of place amongst all of them was what he wanted, the largest one there, a delicate silver frame decorated with birds and flowers weaving around the picture. Unlike his childish artwork on the walls, this one had been painted by a master of the arts, the woman depicted within smiling gently out of the frame at him. It was a slightly crooked smile, one end of her lips curled upwards more than the other. Her pale almost ashen coloured hair was pulled high above her head, a few curl draping down around her face to create an impression of artful relaxation. Atop her hair rested a golden crown, red and purple stones set within.

Queen Libelle in all her glory.

His mother. He wished he could have known her. Wished that he hadn’t killed her just by being born. What kind of child kills their mother upon birth, was so destructive, so evil, that the very act of them coming into the world would condemn their mother to leave it?

“You didn’t kill her.”

That voice again and he was fairly certain this wasn’t a dream in the traditional sense of the word now. It was at once too real and too abstract to be a dream, pulling out pieces of his memory and adding them to things he had never noticed. These weren’t his thoughts alone. He knew that voice as well, it tugged insistently on his mind, a vivid memory just wanting to splash itself across his mind as soon as he opened the gates to it.

Dream walking. It was the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense. Just as he had managed to delve deep into Roman’s psyche in his last ditch effort to save him, so perhaps, someone had entered his mind to talk to him. But you needed to be close to a person to be able to dream walk, you needed to touch them. Not to mention they had to be unconscious to start with and as far as he could remember, neither of those situations applied here.

“Close but not quite. She loved you to the end Virgil. She loved you for every moment she carried you and she loved you when she held you in her arms. She loved you to her last breath, as did I... my son.”

“Pa... Papa?” Virgil’s voice sank to a low whisper and for a moment he was six again, clutching a book tightly within his arms, using it as support as he stood there, staring at his father. A blink, and he was an adult again, gaping like a fish at empty space.

It couldn’t be. King Eric was long since dust and yet that was his voice. How Virgil hadn’t instantly recognized his own father’s voice was beyond him. Perhaps it was simply this moment was impossible and so he had never even allowed himself to consider that it might be his Papa talking. He recognized it now, the sound bringing forth a flurry of memory, the gate he had envisioned in his mind bursting open and a veritable torrent of thoughts and feelings rushing through him, thoughts of his childhood, the feeling of his father holding him close and within those strong arms Virgil had felt invincible. Memories of finding his father in this very room, seated by his desk. Even before he had gotten close enough to touch him, Virgil had known he was dead.

The air in front of him seemed to shimmer a little, a silvery form taking shape there. In front of him stood... stood his father. The scene of sandalwood and patchouli filled the space around them, a mixture that had always burned in the air whenever his father was in this room. The... ghost... stood there, complete in crown and ceremonial robes. He looked very much as he did in life, and Virgil was struck by the urge to try and hug him one last time, no matter how impossible it was.

It was entirely possible however, that he was going mad.

Chapter Text

Well, he had wanted to know if his father would be proud of him or not.

“Oh... oh Virgil.” The spirit looked so sad, so heartbreakingly sad as he stared at him, a sorrow that made Virgil flinch a little and want to hide all his broken parts away from a being that could apparently read his mind. The apparition stepped closer. “Of course I am proud of you.”

Virgil shook his head, hunching into his clothing slightly. He wished he was still wearing his cloak. He missed his cloak. A weight suddenly appeared around his shoulders, Virgil blinking a couple of times in surprise as he looked down to see the thick purple folds of a cloak swishing around him. Had... had he done that? His hands curled into loose fists, Virgil taking a moment to simply concentrate on his breathing, to keep himself calm in this strange world full of the impossible. Really, after everything his life had become, he would have thought that he would be able to deal with the strange better. Perhaps this wasn’t actually impossible, after all, he lived with a literal dragon.

“What is this place? It can’t be dream walking because... because...” Virgil trailed off, trying to swallow down the large lump that had formed there, unable to even say the words.

“Because I’m dead?” His father lifted a hand, the silvery blue limb brushing against Virgil’s cheek in a tender motion. It felt cool against his skin, a shiver threatening to break out across his body. He couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch just a fraction though, just enough so that he could use the sound of his father’s voice and the familiar scents to trick himself into thinking this was real and he wasn’t alone once more.

“I knew you would get here one day. This is a dream, one I planted within your subconscious for when you unlocked your true potential. I know everything you know. I know what happened, and I know the answer you’ve been searching for all these years.”

That got Virgil’s attention, his dark eyes snapping back open to stare at him in shook and a little bit of hope as well, questions of how and why and what the reason had been dying in his throat because there was something far more important in his father’s words. Dimly, he noticed how, despite his normally suspicious nature, he didn’t doubt the truth of the words or the fact that this was some dream left in his mind from many years ago. Some part of his soul knew this spirit was truly his father.

“The answer to... you know how to break the curse on Logan? You know why I’ve never been able to tap into my magic?” Virgil asked, voice a little wobbly, a scratchy roughness to it as he swallowed again and again against the series of lumps that kept trying to form in his throat. His father nodded, pulling his hand away from Virgil’s cheek, the young man feeling the loss of the cool touch like a stinging slap on his skin.

“The answer to all your questions, your problems is right here. It’s love.”

“Love,” Virgil repeated flatly, unable to stop himself from raising an eyebrow in disbelief. He had to be honest, that wasn’t exactly the answer he was expecting, even if it made something inside him uncoil itself and lift its head. “Love is going to save those I care about?”

“Love is magic and magic is love. Nothing is stronger than love and once you let it into your heart it will power all your gifts.” His father had always been a smart man - it was how he had earned his epithet of ‘the wise’ after all, but he had never been the sort to simply sprout mystic sounding sayings like he was some fortune cookie or self empowering guru. His feelings started to spike again, the trickle returning to a flood, filling his body and making him shake a little.

“You could have told me!” Virgil snapped, the carousel of spinning emotions juddering to a halt at anger, the ride now broken, and it felt stuck there for a while, Virgil letting the negative emotion fill him, fuel him. All this time and the answer had been literally inside of him just waiting to be unlocked. What kind of father hid such important information away so that he had to learn the answer himself and then be told surprise! You were right, and sure it would have been easier to just tell him beforehand but clearly it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.

It was odd, how the words made sense, as though something was clicking on in his mind, and the knowledge was settling deep within him, Virgil feeling the magic blossoming and surging through his blood like a living thing. He wanted to laugh and laugh and just laugh, until the sound shifted to sobs, a broken sound that Virgil can feel bubbling up in him.

Because the answer was love and of course love was the answer.

“All this time! You could have just told me when I was younger, when... when you were alive. You should have told me!” A few of the sob slash laughs slip out despite his best efforts, Virgil lifting a hand to slap it across his mouth in a bid to silence the sounds that were trying to break free. He was not going to be reduced to a brawling child in front of his father.

“That isn’t the way this works. If I had told you, then you would have spent all this time worrying there was something else wrong with you, that you were... broken in some unlovable way and I didn’t want that for you.” His father shook his head slightly, Virgil watching the way the ghost crown bounced ever so lightly with the movement. How could a crown be a ghost? And how could his father say that, make that choice for him?

It didn’t matter that it was probably the right one, that his father had been correct in his assessment of his son’s personality, of the thoughts that would have turned against him and threatened to consume him. He still shouldn’t have made it without talking to him because Virgil’s thoughts still twisted and snaked around his mind, still wanted to rob him of any peace. He was still broken. Just not because of love. Only... did this mean he wasn’t broken after all? He had his magic now and all it had taken was the fear of losing those he cared about. Did that mean fear was the answer instead of love? He frowned lightly as he thought, forgetting for a moment that his father was aware of all the thoughts that were swimming through his mind, the darker depths he was sinking to.

Virgil, listen to me,” the ghost pleaded, floating closer, a worried expression in those slightly translucent eyes, dragging Virgil back to the here and now. “You must understand, love is the most powerful of magics but in the wrong hands it can be the most dangerous. Love can be warped so easily my son, turned into some cold, cruel thing. Spurned love or unrequited love can kill or turn the noblest soul into a shell of who they are.”

That... didn’t really help. At all. Was his love twisting into something dark and dangerous already? He could feel his breath catch and stutter in his throat, his heart race starting to increase, a frantic pace as he thought about how much he loved them and how it had taken the threat of death to even realise that. How he had loved Logan all these long years and been unable to tap into that power. He couldn’t even love right, he was useless. Eyes dropped to stare at the ground, at the carpet around their feet.

The ghost pressed a cold hand on his chest, directly where his heart was hammering away and although he couldn’t feel it beyond a faint shiver, for a moment it felt as though he absolutely could. As though a real, living, breathing person was stood there, offering support.

“Pa... Papa. Am I... am I a bad man? I couldn’t reverse the curse, I couldn’t look after my people and now Roman is riding off like the big dumb hero he is and I’m afraid he’s going to get himself killed. I don’t know what to do, I’m scared.” Virgil paused for a moment, swallowing one final time before he finally risked lifting his gaze to meet the dark, almost black eyes of the spectre. “I’m afraid all of the time.”

“What you are feeling is love. Embrace it, not the fear that is trying to eat into that. You love those three. Allow yourself to feel that and not the doubts. You are enough Virgil. You have always been enough,” his father promised, Virgil feeling himself lean into both the near nonexistent touch and the words themselves. He needed to believe this, and once again, he was a child, listening to his father. The wisest man he had ever known. If King Eric said he was enough then maybe, just maybe, it was the truth. In this moment at least, he could let it be the truth that held him together, Virgil drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and giving a little nod as he did.

“There is a very good reason why you have not been able to lift the curse and I promise you, the answer is love. You will find yourself in a moment soon where you will see what I can see.” It was all very well for his father to say that, but it hardly helped him.

“More cryptic clues? Can’t you just tell me what I’m missing?” Virgil asked, and he could feel his heart start to slowly ease up despite himself, soothed by both his presence and his words. King Eric gave another smile, shaking his head lightly.

“I told you, it doesn’t work that way. You’ll see soon. Just hold that love of yours close.” He paused, glancing down at himself, Virgil following his gaze as he did. Was it his imagination or did the ghost look paler now?

“It looks like our time is drawing to a close.” Eric told him, Virgil instantly shaking his head, his heart jumping once more.

“No, no, Papa, don’t leave me.” He was begging and he didn’t even care. The world started to get a little fuzzy around the edges, the paintings on the wall becoming blurry and no! Virgil didn’t want to wake up, he didn’t want to lose his father, not when he had just found him. He didn’t want to be alone, with the weight of his family name on his shoulders, not again, please not again.

“I have to my son. Besides, don’t you have something more important you should be doing?”

“I...” Virgil breathed, eyes wide as he thought about the real world, about the people waiting for him and everything he wanted to do. Not needed, but wanted. “Roman. I want to save Roman and everyone. I want Logan to be himself again... Papa... the woman you married. She. She’s evil.”

“I know Virgil. I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you, not bring new danger into your life. I should have seen her for what she really is.”

“Why?” All the years of pent up emotion, of frustration shone in his voice and it was a question he had wanted to ask perhaps even more than those on his own self worth. How could his father have been so blind to not have seen what she was really like.“Why did you marry her in the first place?”

For a long moment there was silence, the world steadily growing more and more fuzzy, colour leaching out as though the world was a painting itself and it had gotten wet. Finally, his father sighed, shoulders sagging as he suddenly looked every inch his old age.

“Because I was afraid. Even the very wisest of us makes mistakes. Learn from mine, surround yourself with people you love and who love you for you. People who will guide and support you no matter what. Don’t fall for the trap of wanting love so badly you will give it to the first one who offers you a kind smile. All I wanted was to give you more love in your life. I felt as though I was failing you, that it was my fault you were unable to tap into your powers, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I only wanted to give you a mother, to make you happy again. I didn’t stop to think about the who beyond a pretty face who seemed to care for me and I refused to even acknowledge that was I was lonely.”

“I...” Virgil didn’t know what to say to any of that. He hadn’t realised how much his father had been hurting while he was growing up, hadn’t realised how alone he really was. How hard it had to be, to be a King and a father, all on his own. All these years he had been almost mad at him for marrying the witch. Hell, he had been mad at him for dying for a lot of those years as well. He had almost forgotten that his father had been a real human, like him. Had been afraid, just like him.

Virgil wrapped his arms around the space where the ghost floated and pushed all of his feelings, all of his new found power into one single thought. One aim. He feels the magic flare to life and surge within him. Where once he might have found it terrifying to feel such raw and unchecked power flowing through him, now he feels only safety. Because this is his magic. This is him. This is his bloodline, alive at last.

A strange confidence radiates through him as he pushes all his energy outward - and his arms connect with a solid body, with a chest that is flesh and bone. A real person stands in front of him, with real arms that are holding him back, holding him close and offering the type of comfort only a parent can give.

Just for a moment he is truly hugging his father. One. Last. Time.

“I love you Papa,” Virgil whispered, his head buried against the older man’s chest, drinking in the scent, the sensation of being in his arms again. He had missed this more than he had realised, more than he thought possible to miss something.

“I love you too.”

The hold he has over the reality broke with those words, his father slipping through his fingers as he knew he would sooner or later. It doesn’t make it hurt any less to know it would happen, Virgil choking back the wild sob that threatened to break free at the pain of losing his father again, at becoming an orphan once more. He watched with blurred vision as the world slipped away into fog, his father’s ghost slowly becoming one with the background, his parting words lingering long after he had completely vanished.

“And Virgil? Know that I am proud of you and that I will always love you, very much. I’m always within you. Now go... become the great man you were born to be.”

Chapter Text

His cheek was freezing.

It was the first thing he really became aware of, a drifting idle thought on how cold his face was. Slowly, that was followed by the knowledge that is was lying down and that despite his face being cold, the rest of him was warm. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, staring ahead without actually moving. He was lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs. It’s a wonder he didn’t break his neck in the fall, his mind racing as he thinks back to the last moments he was physically conscious for and the dream. Virgil knew too much about magic to simply dismiss it as a dream, and it made something warm bloom within his chest as he remembered the feel of hugging his father and the promises that had been made.

He can’t just lie here. The sun was shining through one of the windows at a slanted angle and it takes him another long moment to realise that it is shining from the other side of the castle now, that the sun is starting to sink down into the horizon at the close of another day.

He has been unconscious for almost a whole day. Any chance of catching up with Roman before he leaves is long gone, Virgil letting a soft groan slip out as he thought about it. The knight would be half way back to his original home by now. The only way he had even the slightest chance of catching up to him would be by flying, faster than any magic spell he could use and Virgil had no idea how he was going to convince Logan to risk going so close to the lair of their enemy.

King Eric had promised he would understand and soon, that he would work out why he couldn’t break the curse and what needed to be done.

Understanding has never felt so far out of reach.

Virgil still had no idea what he was supposed to do, another frustrated groan slipping out and why did things have to be so complicated? He was surprised Logan hadn’t come to check on him, hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in his room or any of the normal places he would spend his time, all the areas of the castle that Logan was able to easily enter. The passageway he was lying in was far too narrow for Logan to squeeze his large frame into but the windows would have given him the ability to look in and see Virgil lying unconscious there. His friend should have found him and smashed the walls down to get him out.

Something suddenly felt very wrong, Virgil pushing himself upright and trying to ignore the growing dread in the pit of his stomach. A heavy and comforting weight around his shoulders had him freezing, Virgil hardly daring to breathe as he finally looked down at himself. His cloak was wrapped around him, the thick fabric soft under his fingers, a look of awe on his face as he examined it carefully. The stitching was a little rough around the edges, the hem lined with thick white thread but it was certainly a cloak of his family, complete with his bloodlines emblem on the back.

He had done this. He managed to create this cloak out of nothing, using his magic... and he didn't feel tired. Now that he was more awake he felt almost... invigorated. Virgil flexed his hand, feeling the magic jump to attention under his skin, energy building within him. It felt as though he could cast any manner of spell and just find himself ready for more, instead of instantly drained by the smallest little thing.

It almost - almost - eased the dread that still swirled inside of him as he carefully climbed to his feet, still running his fingers over the purple fabric. He wrapped the cloak tighter around him as he hurried across through the castle, looking for any sign of Logan. This time of day he would often settle in the middle of the courtyard to catch the dying rays of the sun, rather akin to a large cat but today there was merely an empty space, as though mocking him. As expected, the stable that had housed Roman’s horse was empty, and it was strange how quickly he had grown used to the sounds of another person and an animal filling the castle, giving it a lived in feeling. Now, he felt so very alone, a shiver running down his back as he turned away from the stable, trying to work out where to look next.

Virgil paused for a moment, hand moving to touch against the pendant that still hung from his neck, reaching for his friend.

Logan?

A strange kind of almost static answered him, a white noise that filled his head and made him wince a little, the sound setting his teeth on edge. It was different to the lack of response after Logan had flow off following his first meeting with Roman. Then, it had been a deliberate attempt to ignore him, but Virgil had still be able to feel Logan, to gain the impression that the dragon was almost snubbing him. Now, he reached out and it was as though there was nothing there, shouting into an empty cave and nothing but the blackness answering.

The dread curdled in his stomach, shifting into unbridled terror, and he forced himself to keep moving, almost tripping over his own feet as he searched through the other large rooms that could possibly hold a dragon. Even the great hall was empty and yet he couldn’t shake the sensation that his friend was actually somewhere quite close.

There was, after all, only one place yet to look, Virgil pushing down his nerves as best he could as he moved through the hall, to the back area. He had never set foot in here before, had done his best to pretend he didn’t know it existed. Now he took a deep breath and pushed on, following the wide path down to where he knew the hoard of treasure was located.

It was larger than he expected, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light. A few lit candles scattered around the room, presumably to give the coins something to reflect and sparkle off. It certainly made it look spectacular. He stepped closer, the shadow on top of the gold solidifying into a more familiar, reassuring shape. Logan. Logan was here, and he was okay, everything was going to be okay.

Relief fizzed in him, Virgil feeling himself relax a fraction at the sight of the large black dragon curled up peacefully, apparently oblivious to any danger. He was just sleeping... on a big pile of gold... like a dragon would. Relief shifted instantly back into panic, bile rising up in his throat, something sharp and sickening lapping against the roof of his mouth.

“Logan?”

His friend lifted his head, yawning, mouth flicking open to reveal line upon line of line of sharp teeth and Virgil had never quite realised how many teeth he actually had. His tail swished a little, running through the gold he had amassed, rather like a hand through water. Logan didn’t go so far as to actually open his eyes though, the dragon lowering his head a moment later and trying to get more comfortable on the gold.

“Good evening my Prince,” he murmured, tone sleepy and relaxed. “What do you want?”

Virgil lifting a hand to bite nervously at his thumbnail, unsure of how to say what he wanted to, how to explain the power that now flowed in him and how there was still a clueless moron to rescue. This wasn’t like any conversation he had before with him and he suddenly felt on the wrong foot, put off by the location, and the calm, almost dismissive attitude of Logan. As though they weren’t friends.

“Logan, we have to go. Roman has been a complete and utter idiot and has gone galavanting back to the Queen Mother thinking he can just defeat her with a pretty speech and I know you don’t want to go back there bu-”

“No.” The single word cut through his ramblings, Virgil jerking backwards as though he had been slapped, his eyes blown wide to stare at Logan who continued to lie there, apparently without a care in the world.

“I... what do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no, my Prince. You should not worry about the thief and we will not be going anywhere.” The dragon finally stood, stretching a little, his claws curing around some of the larger items in his hoard, balanced effortlessly. He bowed his head to the young man’s level, eyes opening to fix Virgil with an unblinking stare. Large eyes.

Pale, soulless eyes.

It wasn’t his Logan looking back at him. It wasn’t any version of Logan that he knew or wanted to know.

“Logan... Logan listen to me,” Virgil pleaded and while he had come close to losing Logan in the past, his eyes had never looked as empty as they did right now. He had never felt as far away from him as he did right now. How long had Logan been like this? How long had he been alone. This was all his fault. He had let himself be distracted by Roman, hadn’t been a good enough friend and he hadn’t noticed this slip into darkness, hadn’t been there to pull him back out. So what if Logan had pushed him away, Virgil should have known that this would be the outcome and push just as strongly back, should have dragged his friend away from the darkness no matter what.

“No, no more listening! No more pleading, no more reading, no more tricks! You will return to your tower my Prince. My Prince,” Logan ordered, a possessive curl to his words, a finality in them that left little room for argument.

Logan had always listened before. Even when he had seemed so lost, when he had been nothing but dragon, he had always listened to Virgil. There had always been something in his voice, his pleading, that had enabled him to pull Logan back from the edge of darkness. Even lost in the deepest grip of the curse, he had always heard Virgil when he called out to him. Not this time it seemed.

“Please, don’t leave alone Logan...”

The dragon simply stared at him, unmoved by this final, desperate throw of the die. There was not the slightest hint of brown in his eyes, not the smallest trace of colour that Virgil could hold to, that he could use as a starting thread to painstakingly trace his way to safety.

It struck him, quite forcibly, that this was no longer his friend. That he had been sleeping or spending time with Roman and he had lost his oldest friend as punishment. Virgil took a deep breath. Was this the moment his father had spoken of? He didn’t feel as though he had suddenly gained any new insights, any shining bursts of knowledge that told him what to do. Indeed, it felt like the complete opposite, as though he had slipped on those stairs and falling through time and space back into the dream space of someone else's mind.

He was adrift on that dark and hungry ocean, searching for any land or speck of light, anything he could use to create a world from, just as he had done when he had finally found Roman in that dark place. He had worried that there would be nothing left of the knight, that he might have been too badly injured and fallen too far but Virgil had been able to find his light after all, had created a world for Roman to battle in and so come back to himself.

Only this time there was no shape for him to focus on, no glimmer of Logan that he could move towards and pull away from the darker aspects of both their minds. There was... there was no Logan, just a stranger wearing his second face, staring down at him. Someone had stolen Logan away from him again, only this time it really was Virgil’s fault, because he had dared to think of what he had wanted personally over protecting his friend.

“Your tower now, before I take you there myself,” hissed Logan, jolting him out of his thoughts and back into the ugly present. The dragon’s tail started to swish slightly, brushing against the piles of gold coins and leaving faint trails in its wake, wavy lines of coins, the excess gold spilling over the side and tumbling down the little mounds, creating countless avalanches of money. It was almost strangely beautiful, the patterns in the gold, the gentle noise they made as they clicked against each other, the way they would flash and glitter in the torchlight, little sparks of fire scattered around them.

It was the type of beauty born out of pain though, born out of something unnatural and wrong. Just because there was beauty to be found in it, didn’t mean that it was a sort of beauty that should be admired or even examined.

Virgil blinked rapidly, feeling burning tears welling up in his eyes as though he had been staring into the sun for too long. This was wrong, this was all wrong, Virgil feeling his breath catch in his throat. His chest started to burn from the lack of oxygen as he tried to will his lungs to work once more, Virgil forcing himself to breathe out only then his mind couldn’t keep up. It couldn’t remember the simple sequence, and each inhale only brought more fire, more pain when he finally was able to force himself to breathe out again.

He needed to think but there was no time to think, no time to plan. Roman was getting further and further away with every passing moment. He was heading to his death thinking he was helping and there didn’t seem to be anything that Virgil could do to help him, not when he had lost his only friend, his only means to defend himself, the only card he had to play in defeating the Queen Mother.

Well, there was his magic of course.

It bubbled away inside of him, coursing through his veins and now that he could feel it so intensely, Virgil couldn’t understand how he had been able to live without it before. It felt like a part of him, as if he had been walking around without a limb and hadn’t even noticed until it was reattached to him. His magic was a part of him and he didn’t think he could survive losing it once more. The energy swirled around, a faint almost tingling sensation on the tips of his fingers as it begged to be allowed it, for it to be released and to show itself to the world.

Virgil couldn’t trust his new gift though. It was still something untried, untested. He didn’t know the extent of his newly unlocked power, he didn’t know how much he could use before the familiar fatigue would creep through his body, leaving him helpless. Worse than helpless, because if he revealed what he could do and tried to use his magic to convince Logan, only for it to fail on him, then his friend would never trust him again.

Not to mention, the magic still didn’t offer him any clues as to how he would cure Logan once and for all. What good was new power, when it didn’t give him that?

He was consistent in his failings if nothing else.

Hand lifted to his head, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to marshal his thoughts into anything approaching normality. Virgil felt as though his mind was spinning in a circle, and there was nothing but sleek black walls whichever direction he tried to move. How could he fight and bring Logan back to himself when Logan no longer seemed interested in trying? When he refused to listen? Virgil might have raw magic now, but he didn’t know any spell that could compel a lost soul to return to where it belonged.

His father had promised there would be a way out of this and as much as the negative, cynical side of him was whispering that his father had to have been wrong, Virgil didn’t want to believe that. Just as he didn’t want to believe the doubts which were starting to crawl over him like dozens of hungry mosquitoes, searching for fresh blood. That dream had been real in its own way. He had seen the ghost... or memory... or whatever it was. He had really seen it and it had been his father.

Or had it been the subconscious ramblings of a mind forced beyond breaking point? Had he slipped and hit his head, and only dreamt that he had spoken to his father? It seemed so ridiculous now, that he might have seriously spoken to his long dead father, that they had hugged and made up, that he had passed along words of wisdom. In the dream space, it had made perfect sense, his father had magic so of course he could use that magic to hide a message within his mind. He had wholly believed the dream was real. At the time.

Wasn't that how dreams worked?

No, no it had been real. His magic was proof of that and he needed to hold onto that. Virgil wished he could believe he had dreamed Roman up completely, or dreamed this latest twist with Logan. A nightmare would be so much better than this. Anything rather than this being his reality.

Eyes dropped to stare firmly on the ground and Virgil couldn’t bare to look any more. He couldn’t stare at the hoard because the sight of that much gold was making him feel sick and the sight of those pale eyes made him want to cry.

What was he going to do? His twin supports had crumbled away into dust so fast. Roman was gone, riding away with a song in his heart to his almost certain doom. Logan seemed to be gone too, a shell of his friend left in his place.

He needed to breathe as well as think. Virgil had to get out of this room and its suffocating darkness, he had to escape if only for a moment. He had to back down from this battle and then work out out what he was going to try next - he couldn't come up with a plan here, the pressure only made worse by the stark reality that every passing moment left Roman more exposed than before.

A coward’s reaction of course, but then try as Virgil might, he had always known in his heart that he was nothing more than a weak coward.

This was exactly what Roman had warned him about and he hadn’t listened. Partly because he hadn’t wanted to believe it could be possible and partly because he knew whatever he did would have to be a balance simply because Virgil had no intention of leaving Logan. Even now, he refused to abandon the form of his friend.

Let the dragon think he had won for now. A tactical retreat while he prepared a new plan of attack.

“Before you go...” There was a malevolent cruelty to his words, something that made Virgil shudder a little as he forced himself to lift his gaze back to meet those empty, cool eyes, before travelling along the large dragon's form.

Hanging from a claw was a crown. Dark burnished gold, it practically glowed in the dim light, drawing his attention and holding it. Emeralds were scattered across it, deep green that in places looked so dark it could be black. It looked old, older by far than the crown his father would have passed onto him. Logan hadn't said a word, but then he didn't need to, for Virgil to understand what he wanted.

“No.” Virgil told him firmly and he might not know what to do right now or how to save those he loved, but he saw his death in that crown and he wasn't going to hurry towards that meeting, not when he still had tasks to complete.

Logan snarled, shifting closer in one fluid motion, smoke curling from his nostrils as he moved closer, almost pressing into Virgil. This close, eye to eye, he could see every little detail of those pale lizard eyes.

This close, he had a perfect view and yet try as he might, Virgil couldn't make out so much as a hint of the palest brown on the edge of that yellowed iris.

“I wasn't asking my Prince, you will wear the crown. You are my stolen treasure, my prized possession and I will see you wearing it.”

Crown was dropped, rolling along the ground for a few feet until it rested by his feet, taunting and threatening in equal measure. As if in a daze, Virgil felt himself bend down and pick it up, fingers tracing delicate patterns within the gold, designs that were only visible up close. It felt heavy in his hands, Virgil swallowing as he stared down at the crown and he had always envisioned one in his future but never like this.

Hands were shaking so badly as he lifted the crown up, placing it slowly atop his head, feeling every chain and lock snap into place as it settled on his purple hair and for the first time he understood what Logan wanted him to become.

A trophy prince for a dragon interested only in treasure.

Chapter Text

The dragon stretched out his large wings, relishing in being able to do so.

No longer did he have to cower in shadows, too afraid of his own power, of his own glorious might and where it might lead. No longer did he have to worry about pitiful little tin can knights finding his nest because there was no doubt now in his mind as to what he would do if one showed up. No longer did he have to balance what he wanted to do against what he should do because what were the petty moralities of a human compared to the choices of a God?

He was finally free.

This castle was too small, too cramped for his tastes but it would serve its purpose for now. His gold was beautiful, mountains and valleys of shining gold that didn’t stretch nearly as far yet but in time, he would add to it, would create a whole world of gold for him to live in.

His prince was sad.

Wait.

His prince was... sad.

The dragon tilted his head to the side, considering this information carefully, unsure of what to make of it. Sad, happy or indifferent, it didn’t change the purpose of his prince, it didn’t make him more or less valuable. If anything, sad would be better, because sad would keep him from coming up with foolish ideas like trying to return to the home to save a thief that would only want to hurt them both. He was easier to contain like that, and although happy was also useful, because a happy prince was a content prince and thus also more likely to stay where he was placed, it shouldn’t really make any difference.

Yet the dragon found himself uncertain about the sadness, unsure if he liked knowing he was causing his prince some pain.

The sadness stirred something inside of him, something he wasn’t sure he really wanted to explore. The sadness made a strange, soft little voice call out of him, trying to get his attention and make him do all those things he didn’t want to. The sadness threatened to push him back into a box that didn’t fit him, to contain him within someone else's mind and that alone should be enough to make him think of something - anything else.

Anything besides the lost little look in his prince’s eyes as he lowered his hands from his head, leaving the crown sitting there. Anything besides the defeated slump of shoulders as he turned and left the hoard, returning to his tower and the gilded cage he had created for him. Anything besides the way his voice had cracked and broken as he had begged for mercy, begged for them to risk it all for an unworthy thief.

He also couldn’t help but think back to other moments in which his prince was sad or scared or in pain. Moments that had shaped his own existence in turn, had made him into the dragon he was today.

--

Pain.

His first memories were ones of pain, bones breaking under the force that was being exerted on him, his whole being crushed under some impossible power. He could feel his whole form shifting, not merely breaking but being reformed, limbs extending into new shapes or bring created out of nothing, claws growing sharper and sharper. Decades of growth, all crammed into a few minutes that seemed to stretch out endlessly, every second laced with pain beyond his imagination.

Screams shifted into roars, a hurricane of noise that built up around him almost like a physical force. It wasn’t until later, when he looked back on the painful agony of the start that he even realised that noise had been him. He had screamed and then roared until his throat was rubbed raw by the sound, until only wheezing gasps could slip free from him.

His first memories were of being born, thrust into a world that seemed to delight in hurting him, his beautiful wings being forced down to his side, chains and leather criss crossing them, binding him helplessly in place - how could he know they were beautiful? He is a dragon, he knows it without being told, just as he knows the sky is his playground and this earthen cell is his hell. The smell of earth and dust is rotten in his nostrils, letting him know without sight that he is trapped underground but not of his own choosing. He was born to be a king, a god, he was born to be free and even before he has opened his eyes, he knew that he was going to be denied that. He was going to be chained and trapped like some miserable beast of burden, the thought making him want to roar with anger as well as pain - if only there was some voice left to roar with.

His first memories were agony and nothing else.

No... he had memories already. A lifetime of memories that jostled about before trying to settle uncomfortably next to the new ones that try and form as each painful second ticked by.

He was Logan. He was human, not dragon. He worked in the palace library, his best friend was a shy prince who was so much more than anyone seemed to credit him for. He had growing feelings for Patton, although he was at a loss to adequately define them.

The dragon wanted to be Logan. He didn’t want this power, this energy that coursed through him, something so alien and unknowing. He didn’t want to fly and burn the lesser folk, he wanted to sit in a sunbeam with a book and lose himself for hours in the magic of the written word. He wanted to look up when the sun had long since faded and find a walking beam of sunshine in front of him, that warm smile on his face more precious than any title or gemstone.

No.

No, he wanted gold, he wanted power, he wanted the thrill of having people cower at the sight of his shadow. He was a great and powerful beast, and there was no shame in flaunting that simple fact to the world. He wanted everything that came with his form. The dragon was both and none at the same time. Memories shifted, thoughts coming and going like falling rain against hot lava, hissing away into nothingness as soon as they landed.

Logan lacked the energy to so much as lift his head, his whole body a temple to pain. They uneasily coexisted as one mess, neither side able to gain any mastery over the other, unable to form and hold onto a thought or desire for any length of time. They were trapped in a figurative nightmare with no apparent way to wake up.

Until the day Prince Virgil walked into his cell, scared at the sight of him but willing to talk to him as though he was a real person once more.

--

His Prince was leaving him for the final time.

They had forged a new friendship in the cell, something different from the dynamic of before. Virgil didn’t know who he really was for a start, he looked at him and saw a wounded beast, saw something to pity. Yet even in the depths of that sickening pity, there had never seemed to be any real fear. Logan would have expected Virgil to run after their first meeting and never return because chained or not, he was still a horrifying monster.

Instead, Virgil had returned, time and time again. He had brought food and medicine which eased the open sores that littered his body, cooled the fire which raged across his skin. Virgil showed mercy when everyone else in the kingdom had shown him nothing but pain. Those shadowy few that he had seen of course. Even the old hag had stopped visiting after a while, leaving him to die day by day in here. Until Virgil started easing the pain and treating him as though he was something other than a monster.

A lonely awkward prince with nobody else to talk to, and a chained dragon that couldn't talk but could listen made for an odd pairing, especially when history would pit them as enemies but somehow it worked.

Logan had felt his energy and power grow bit by bit as the days passed. The food and drink his Prince brought him certainly helped and he hadn’t realized just how ravenous he was until he was able to open his jaw a fraction, enough to scoop up the food and swallow it whole. He was so hungry but thankfully his friend worked hard to fix that, sneaking down as much as dared with only a normal level of Virgil complaining.

There was still a hunger in the pit of his soul that cried out for more than meat and water, that wanted something Logan didn’t want to explore.

Virgil just being there helped as well. His friend made the Logan part of him grow stronger, gave him the energy he needed to stay in control of his own body for longer than a few seconds at a time. He was Logan despite this strange form he had been cast into and if it wasn’t personally happening to him, it would be fascinating to document the experience of a man being cursed into a dragon. Who would have thought to cast a spell which would render the victim - in theory - so powerful? It was ingenious because even if by some miracle, magic was suspected as a cause of his disappearance, they would never even consider a dragon. Nobody would turn their enemy into that.

Virgil made the dragon part of him speak as well, whispering all manner of thoughts and ideas. That side of him saw his friend less as a person and more as some kind of trophy, something to keep hidden so only he could enjoy the wonder of the prince.

Logan was never going to let that side of him win out. He would never allow himself to think of Virgil in that way, no matter what.

Hearing Virgil talk about his lost friend made Logan want to almost cry. Virgil would always get a far away look in his eyes, would scrunch up into a small ball as he spoke of Logan. It hurt more than he expected, to be this close to Virgil, to be in the same room as him and yet his friend couldn’t see him. He would look right at him and yet he couldn’t see him. No matter how hard Logan tried to think, it seemed as though dragon’s did not possess telepathic abilities. And with the chains still around his mouth, despite the slight slack Virgil had been able to get in them, he had no way of actually talking.

This state of affairs continued until it didn’t.

Until the day Virgil showed up looking more scared and lonely than ever before. When he told - reminded - Logan what day it was and how tomorrow his life to all intents and purposes would be over. The Queen Mother would have her claws in deep by the end of tomorrow and he didn’t think he would be able to come and visit anymore.

That didn’t explain the tilt of his head though, the way he jutted his chin up in an attempt at bravado. Logan recognized that look, it was the one Virgil wore when he was trying to work up the courage to do something he was terrified of. For a brief, wild moment, Logan thought his prince was going to tell him that he was planning to stand up to the Queen Mother, that he was going to tear down her lies.

He should have known that Virgil’s courage was always geared towards other people in his life. He could be brave for those he considered friends but never for himself. Virgil’s thoughts hadn’t been on a way of defying her, but a way to save the dragon, Logan for a few moments too stunned to even realise Virgil was carefully removing his bonds, freeing his wings and his jaws completely.

“Well... like I said good luck. Hopefully we won't see each other again.”

No, no this couldn't be the end, he couldn’t let Virgil just walk away, the purple clad prince vanishing up the steps and out of sight despite the pitiful croak Logan had managed to force out of him. Virgil hadn’t heard him and he was walking away to what they both knew would be his doom. He might not die physically, but it would be a living death. He would be left to starve as surely as Logan had been, just left to starve of conversation, of any meaningful interaction.

Virgil had given him freedom without even knowing who he really was. A large part of Logan wanted to slap a clawed foot against his face in dismay at such a foolish action and what had Virgil been thinking, unleashing a dragon upon the world? So what if he had been nice to Virgil, he had been injured, weak and chained up. No dragon would have risked angering his one source of food by lashing out at the prince, that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Then again, Virgil had always been prone to listen to his heart rather than anything else.

If the roles had been reversed, he knew he would never have untied a dragon. Even if he had known he was once his friend, Logan would never have risked it, would never have dared.

The biggest part of him didn’t care, because Virgil was still out there somewhere, smiling and going through the paces like his heart wasn’t slowly turning to stone. Logan had to do something to change his fate, logic be damned because more than anything else, he wanted to protect Virgil. He wanted to keep him safe.

Logan never wanted to let him out of his sight again.

Finally, a strange voice whispered in the back of his mind, something cold and reptilian about it. It made a shudder run through him because he knew that voice as much as he tried to deny it. It was the Other him, the side that spoke of gold and jewellery as though they were the only things that mattered. The Other than wanted people to fear them and sleep comfortably on a hoard of stolen goods.

We should get him away from here. We should hide him, protect him. For his own good of course; without us he will only suffer.

Try as he might to ignore it, Logan couldn’t deny how tempting those words were. He wanted to protect Virgil, no, he needed to. His friend had always been there for him, right from the start and aside from his company. He had never asked for anything in return. It was time to return the faith and love that had been shown to him as well as let Virgil know who he had really been talking to all this time.

That meant he needed to work out how to use this body he had been given and fast. The Other hissed in approval in his mind, offering it's help, to teach him how to use everything the spell had given to him. He could no doubt work it out himself in time of course. But there was the problem. Time. The one thing that Logan didn’t have. He knew exactly where Virgil was right now and he would never have such a perfect chance again.

So we should go now, the voice interjected again and strange, how much more reasonable it suddenly sounded, how smooth and almost reassuring. Let me help, we can save him from this, you just have to trust me and I will teach you what you need to know.

For the first time - although, while he didn’t know it, it wouldn’t be the last - Logan listened to that voice in the back of his mind and did what it said, learned how to move his changed form. It was lucky that he had always been a remarkably quick study and it was easy enough to let the voice take the lead in this regard, to listen to its instructions and adapt accordingly.

Eyes blazed with a fiery determination as he pushed himself to his feet, flexing his wings with purpose for the first time. They ached a little, muscles straining in new ways but it was the good kind of ache, the pain that let him know that he was doing something right. This might actually work. Then again, it might not, because he had never actually flown before and what if he couldn't? Flying had to be similar to walking, in that it took time to learn how to do it correctly.

Which again, he didn’t have.

All you need is the right motivation, suggested the voice and vaguely, Logan felt as though he shouldn’t be listening to it so much yet now that he had given it a chance he found he didn’t want to stop. It was so useful after all and it was foolish to give up on a valuable source of information simply because it potentially could become an issue down the line. So long as he was careful, so long as he remembered that in certain situations the advice would be biased, then there was no harm in listening to it and using it as he needed.

Logan thought of all the pain and humiliation that had been placed upon him. The agony of the transformation, the slow death that had been creeping through him thanks to their passive neglect. He thought of the pain Virgil had been going through everyday, not knowing where his best friend was and blaming himself for the hundreds of possibilities that had crossed his mind as to what kind of fate had befallen him. He thought of the agony that awaited Virgil at the end of this day, the invisible chains that would bind him forever.

He thought of Pat- no, no, that was too far, too painful, he didn’t think of that, he couldn’t think of that. Logan needed some fire to power himself up, he needed that boost to get him going, but he didn’t want the crushing painful weight that should thoughts would bring. He had to get angry, not depressed.

Once again, he thought of Virgil, thought of how small and afraid he had looked, how this life he was living was a lie, how it didn’t give him the chance to become the man he deserved to be. He thought how much better things could be if only he could get Virgil away from all of this and all to himse- get him to safety.

With a snarl, he launched himself into the air, the shock and exhilaration of the fact he was flying fading away the higher he flew. Wings were beating furiously as he hovered there, eyeing the landscape. The castle looked so... small from up here, so pitifully small. Unbecoming of Virgil’s royal dignity and he deserved so much better than the limited world he was given here. Logan would see that he would get everything he deserved and more.

The great hall of the castle looked as puny as the rest of the buildings, the roof easily crushed with his newfound strength. Logan roared as he smashed his way in, intent on causing as much chaos as he could. Fear would cause panic which would hopefully impede the ability of the knights to stop him in obtaining his goal. Somewhere below him, he heard the starts of screams, people running, all round general confusion.

Directly below him, he saw Virgil cower from him as though afraid, the flames licking hungrily at the various wooden items scattered around the area. The sight of flames only increased the panic, the stampede of people as they tried to flee the area. He breathed out again, another wall of fire, this time with the intent of separating Virgil from those that sought to injure them both and he couldn’t risk Virgil running away by accident.

It hurt to see Virgil afraid of him but it was perhaps only to be expected. He could not look beyond the glory of his outer skin, he could not see the mind inside or realise that Logan was doing all of this for his benefit. This was for his own good and once they were somewhere safe, he would tell him that, would prove that he was really Logan, that despite wing and claw, he was still his best friend. All that could be done later however. There was no time for a friendly greeting or warning, no time to explain anything, his mind fixed on one goal and one goal only as he dived down to ensnare his prince in his talons.

He had to save Virgil, even from himself.

--

The demon crumpled at his feet, sightless eyes staring up towards the sky. The battle had been fierce, bad and bloody but he had defeated his foe, tapping into that side of him that he normally tried to ignore in order to do so. It had been worth listening to those violent urges because a demon was a dangerous foe that should never be underestimated. Logan turned his head, the blood lust fading a little now that his enemy was gone - only for the maddening rage to sweep back through him at the sight that awaited him.

Virgil lay crumpled on top of the thief, his eyes closed, one hand still gripping the leather tunic of the thief who was no longer as pale has he had been when they first arrived. The two of them glowed faintly, and before his eyes, Logan could see the wounds that littered the thief's body start to heal and flesh start to knit itself together.

Not that Logan cared about that, head dipping to nudge Virgil, knocking him off the prone body of the other. His prince rolled without resistance, hand slipping free to lie on his back on the ground, eyes still closed. It felt as though something had wrapped itself around his heart and was pressing hard, a pain that wanted to send him even stumbling to his knees. He dipped his head closer, nuzzling against Virgil’s face as though the contact alone could be enough to wake him.

Nothing happened. Virgil continued to lie there as still as the grave. Eyes flickered down to take in the rest of his body, scanning for any visible injury - more than that, trying to work out if his prince was even alive. Virgil was still breathing, his chest gently rising and falling but that was little comfort to Logan right now, not when there was the unmistakable fact that he had tried to dreamwalk, despite Logan telling him no. It didn’t even matter than he had succeed, that he was just drained and would - hopefully - wake up. How could any of that matter against the fact he had come so close to being lost forever?

He threw back his head and howled into the night, his scream a mingling of rage and fear.

How dare the thief? How dare he!

He had nearly killed Virgil. For all that some part of him knew it had been the prince’s own choice to cast such a spell, the more reptilian part of his mind couldn't help but blame the thief for getting injured in the first place so that his far too kind hearted prince would feel that he had no choice other than trying to dive into his mind in order to save him. Now look where it had gotten them both. Unconscious, hopefully recovering and with nothing else that Logan could do but watch and wait.

Thief Roman had come closer than anyone to taking his treasure away from him

No. No it hadn’t been the thief’s fault, had it? Not really. It had been his own fault. He should never have allowed his prince to get attached in the first place, he had known something like this would have happened. Not this exactly - he had envisioned mental pain, not physical. Logan needed to do something about this, he needed to make Virgil understand that they couldn’t keep doing this. They couldn’t risk themselves for someone else, no matter how kind hearted his prince was.

Carefully, he scooped up the fallen prince in one talon, the thief collected almost as an afterthought. It wasn’t mercy that led him to take Roman back to his castle. Virgil would be very displeased if he had left him here and anyway, he rather wanted to give the thief a little scare as punishment. He wanted to do a lot more than just scare him but he would be weak and hold himself back for now. Logan was going to have to have a serious talk with the thief when he woke up.

If he woke up.

If his prince woke up.

--

Logan.

The memories called him Logan. His stolen Prince called him Logan. That annoying little bug in the back of his mind that he had thought he had killed forever called him Logan.

He was Logan no more.

He was Draco. He was grand, he was an awe inspiring creature, an Old God born anew and ready to found a new kingdom under his thrall. He was a dragon and needed no name beyond that, he didn’t need any sort of nickname that obscured the glory of his existence. In fact, even that was not clear enough. He was dragon, simply dragon, not ‘a’ anything.

For too long he had been trapped in the background, subject to the whims of a weak and feeble human mind. For too long he had been forced to share when he should have just taken, he had been forced to give when he should have kept. For too long he had played nice instead of powerful and look where it had gotten them all.

Who would even want to be Logan? Why had the pathetic human mind insisted on fighting and struggling against his greater destiny for so long?

Logan’s memories were nothing but pain, a lifetime of pain and regret. Of emotions half buried in the silt, as though he was sinking under it all. The human side of him had never seemed to realise that denying his feelings only gave the dragon side of him more power, letting him grow inside of him until he was ready to burst out and take control as he should have done years ago.

His prince had realised. His prince was smart, smarter than he gave himself credit for, and it was only because of his prince that he had been denied for so long. Smarter than the dragon would like, and he needed to stamp that out. It wouldn’t do for him to get any new ideas and try and cause trouble.

He had to teach his Prince his place. He had no right to use that name, because Logan no longer existed and it was cruel in the long term to let him think otherwise. Still... Draco would allow his stolen treasure to call him Logan for a little longer however. He would let him think there was still a chance, that he acknowledged that aspect of the human he had been born in, that maybe weak and pitiful Logan would come back to the prince.

At least until the thief was dead and all hope was lost.

Draco would watch the hope drain from those purple eyes, he would bask in feeling his spirit break. Perhaps he would spare the next knight who came to try and steal his treasure - at least until he told him what had become of the thief, in hopefully gruesome detail.

And then, when he was wavering, on the cusp of losing his hope forever, Draco would flick him over the edge with a few well placed words, with the inescapable knowledge that there was no Logan and there never would be again. He would grind down his treasure until all he could do was sit and look pretty.

He would own Prince Virgil completely, in soul as well as body.

Chapter Text

Virgil knew the castle far better than Logan could ever hope to. He had rarely ventured beyond its walls in all the time they had lived here and so had spent countless hours exploring the maze of tunnels and paths while Logan had soared high above. He had walked in dark tunnels that hadn’t seen a living soul for years and mapped them all in his head, so much so that he could move through them blindfolded if need be and still not hit a single wall.

He knew the best hiding spots, and he was curled up in one now, knees brought up against his chest, forehead resting against them. Then again, he had never needed to seriously hide from Logan before, so could it really be called a best anything? It was quiet here at least, almost peaceful and in this little corner, he could try and think, could attempt to calm himself by walking those paths in his mind, moving through the castle at will.

There were ways out, if he was willing to take them. Ways under walls, gaps in the stonework that could be made big enough for one person to slip through under the cover of darkness as he made his way to the nearby woods for shelter - if that was what he decided to do.

This castle was not nearly as secure as Logan thought it was but that had never mattered in the past because Virgil had been able to step in and help. He had spent months searching for gaps, casting all manner of charms and protections on them so people would see rocks or other barriers, that the impression would be that this was a secure fortress. Unless you just climbed over the walls where the gaps were too big to cover or rode through the main gate as Roman had done.

Then there were the wards, bound so that anyone new who crossed them would send him a warning, alerting them to danger. Only new people though, the strings didn’t react everytime Logan moved through them. Virgil had never tested it properly, but he was fairly sure he could slip through the wards himself without setting them off. They didn’t even react to Roman anymore, although Virgil wished they had, that he had been given enough notice, that he could have stopped all of this madness or at the very least delayed it a little further. Perhaps with Roman by his side he could have pulled Logan back.

The world didn’t run on perhaps and all those theories that ran through his mind didn’t matter because it was all pointless anyway. There was no power in the world that could change the past, even magic had its limits. He could wish all he wanted that the wards had triggered or that Roman had stayed but it wouldn’t change anything. All he could do was deal with what was in front of him now and work from there.

The sensible thing to do would be to try and run. To escape whatever it was that fate had in store for him and try and fight for a new life. To either fling himself into battle in a solo and possibly futile effort to defeat the Queen Mother and save Roman... or to accept the flames and ruins of all his hopes and become someone new, live out a life of obscurity and peace. He would never pick that second choice, he was pessimistic but he could never just abandon everyone. Regardless he should accept that the choice had already been made, that it was no longer Roman or Logan, it was Roman or death.

He should use his magic if he had to, slip away from the castle and somehow work out how to get to his home on his own, without being captured by either Logan or any scouts the Queen Mother might have sent out searching for him. He should cloak himself in his magic as well as his newly acquired physical cloak and get out of here.

It was what he should do - but Virgil already knew, even as he considered it, that he wouldn’t do that. That he couldn’t do that.

To escape would mean leaving Logan behind, would mean abandoning him and Virgil wasn't ready for such a thing, not yet. Possibly not ever. He didn’t want to have to choose between Roman and Logan. No, he refused to choose between them - there had to be an answer here that didn’t involve abandoning one of them to a horrible fate. He had to be better. He would be better, his father's words ringing in his ears, the encouragement, the belief that he had in him.

Virgil breathed out, the breath catching a little in his throat but for the first time he felt someone’s expectations felt more like encouragement instead of a crushing weight. He breathed in, trying to steady himself enough for the next step. For what had to happen. Because the moment was almost upon him, Virgil knew it. The moment when he would have to fall in some direction, when he had to prove himself. He couldn’t stay curled up in this little hole he had found forever. It wasn’t his tower, not quite, but it was somewhere safe, somewhere that Logan shouldn’t be able to find him because there was no window that Logan could look through and see him, no tunnel that he could move through.

He could feel the moment growing closer.

As if summoned by his internal thoughts, the sound of wings came to his ears, Virgil lifting his tear stained face from his knees to listen intently to the faint noises. He was skilled in that too, in being able to judge exactly where his friend was by the sound of wings and claws. It was amazing what you could learn when you were that bored.

Logan had landed on his tower. By now he had no doubt worked out that Virgil wasn’t there. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel a slight tingle of alarm. Fear at what the dragon might drive Logan to do, and he wasn’t afraid for himself, not really. The thought that Logan might go too far haunted him though, the idea that he might do something and then not be able to face himself after, what if he hurt Virgil and then never forgave himself? How could Virgil ever save him then?

“Oh my prince, where are you?” Logan called, the stone work rattling a little around him as he crashed rather heavily into the main courtyard. Even a few rooms over, Virgil could feel the vibrations it caused and it was strange, how he had never realised quite how big and powerful Logan actually was as a dragon. The hard won control slipped a little, the edge of darkness creeping back up on him.

“I can smell you my prince...” Logan crooned, Virgil feeling himself shrink into a smaller ball and the silky tones of Logan’s voice frightened him more than any anger had ever done. Virgil could feel his breath hitch, struggling to keep it level. It was okay. He was deep enough, the dragon couldn’t actually reach him here and Logan would have to bring down a lot of the castle in order to drag him out of here by force. Strangely, the thought of potentially being buried under a lot of heavy stones did not help his mood. That voice in the back of his mind that urged caution, that sensibly argued to run, grew louder.

Still, Virgil couldn’t abandon Logan, not really. He had told Roman that he wouldn’t leave his friend even if the curse took him. At the time he had meant every word he said. He still meant it, no matter the panic that was running through him.

“Oh so you want to play? Very well... let us play, but I will remember this.”

But... this wasn’t his friend. His friend wasn’t cruel, his friend wouldn’t do this to him, Virgil biting down the urge to yelp as Logan hit against the stonework again, strong enough this time to make the very walls of his room shake a little and it seemed as though Logan’s temper had gotten worse. His fuse had certainly gotten shorter and somehow, Virgil didn’t doubt that he would bring down the whole castle if that was what it took to find him. The landscape had changed so dramatically and so quickly. It wasn’t like Logan to toy with anyone like this, let alone someone he had once considered a friend. He knew next to nothing in this strange new world.

There was only one thing he knew for certain.

Something that struck him as he watched flakes of stone shimmy away from the walls. A loose bit of stone struck him as well, flicking down his cheek like a finger and with that sharpness came understanding. There had to be a price paid. That was how this worked, there was always going to be a life given up in return for a happy ending of sorts. Only, Virgil didn’t have to make the choice between the two of them, because the third option was here and had been all along. It was so clear to him, like a bolt from the blue.

It wasn’t a case of Roman or Logan. It was Roman, Logan... or Virgil. And really, that was no choice at all. He wasn’t going to let Roman die. He wasn’t going to abandon Logan to this fate either and if this was the price to pay, then he would pay it gladly. There was still someone he could save, even if it wasn’t himself. He could save Roman, he could give up any chance of his own happy ending.

In time, he would work out how to save Logan, he had to. What was his own happiness - even his own life compared to that?

Something fluttered inside of him, a new bravery born out of understanding that this was it. He had made his choice and Virgil felt more settled because of it. He was no longer plagued by the doubts of uncertainty, and that gave him a strange kind of strength.

Strength enough to uncoil himself from the ball he had been hiding in and stand up once more. Strength enough to do what needed to be done, Virgil lifting a hand to swipe at his eyes, trying to scrub some of the tears away.

He stepped out into the courtyard, holding his head as high as he dared. The crown felt heavy on his head, Virgil resisting the urge to take it off and fling it to the ground. He needed Logan to listen to him and throwing a temper tantrum - no matter how tempting that might be - would only anger the dragon in turn, would make him want to refuse to agree to what Virgil had to suggest.

Logan twisted to look at him as he moved into the light, a cold and unfamiliar smile gracing his features as he moved towards him. Now that Virgil was within his view, there didn't seem a need to be loud and he almost floated across the space, claws so delicately scraping along the stonework until he was close enough to touch.

“Ah, there you are. Crawling out of your little hole at last I see...are you ready to behave and go to your tower?”

“No. Let’s make a deal.” He spoke with a lot more bravery and confidence than he actually felt, trying not to let Logan know how scared he actually was. A foolish wish no doubt, his friend knew all his tells but that could hopefully work to his advantage as well as being a weakness.

“A deal?” Logan asked, head tilted ever so subtly to the side as he considered the offer, Virgil hardly daring to move in case it broke his concentration and he decided to not even bother listening to him. The prince couldn’t exactly force him to pay attention to him, let alone help him and he didn’t have a back up plan at the moment. This had to work. He had read a lot about dragon’s over the years, wanting to learn as much as he could. He knew how they liked to consider themselves smarter than anyone else. He had seen this before, he had seen Logan make a deal with Roman despite not wanting to give him a chance. This had to work. “Very well. Amuse me with your offer.”

“One last quest. You... you help me save Roman, this one last time and after he’s safe, I’ll come back with you if that's what you want. I’ll let you take me away and we shall find a new castle to hide in, if that is what you want from life,” Virgil suggested. He would do it too, would give up any chance of ruling, any chance of being with the knight if it meant he lived. He would stay with Logan no matter what his heart wanted, whatever it took. If he was with Logan, then perhaps that inspiration would strike him as well, and he would do what needed to be done in order to reverse the curse and free them all from this nightmare.

Logan laughed, face so close that Virgil could feel the hot breath against his skin. It was a horrible, grating sound, something foreign and unpleasant, Virgil fighting the urge to flinch at the noise. He wanted to scrub the memory of the sound from his mind.

“Your hand is too weak little Prince,” he gloated, a cruel delight shining in his eyes. “I already have you, all safe, all mine. This castle is safe, once the thief dies in his foolish mission, there will be nobody left who knows where you are. I keep my treasures protected, to go back to your home would make it far too likely you could get hurt or get foolish ideas in your head to try and leave me.”

Virgil shook his head, drawing on his own strength, and he couldn’t back down, not here. Maybe it wasn’t the strongest hand in the world but he knew how to play his cards. He knew his friend so well and vice versa. He could use that. He could use the desire to get more control against him.

“You know me, Logan. Think about it. You know how stubborn I can be. I’ll keep trying to escape and maybe I won’t at first but you know I will never give up until I do. I will fight against you with every breath,” he promised, lifting his chin and meeting that cold gaze head on. He would not be cowed or intimidated by this shell of his friend, not any longer. He had spent too long afraid, too long consumed by fears of the worst that could happen. Well, it had happened.

“I will never forgive you if you let him die and I will never forget. But if you help me save him, then I’ll be your Prince, just like you want. I will wipe his memory if that is what it takes for Roman to stay away and it will be just the two of us.”

Logan hesitated, clearly torn between risking accepting the deal or refusing it. He knew Virgil, he knew full well that the Prince he longed to claim meant every word he said and while Virgil knew it wouldn’t be easy to escape, he was going to try everything he could. He didn't want to leave Logan but he would, he would carry out his threat if he had to - as much as he didn’t want to, he knew this would only work if he was honest because Logan knew him too well.

Plus, he had his magic now, something Logan didn’t know. It felt wrong, keeping it a secret from his friend but at the same time, it wasn’t really his friend anymore was it. This Logan was dangerous and he would be a fool to admit to having power and thus a probable way out in case he tried to stop him. It was good to hold something back, just in case. Logan, ironically enough, had taught him that.

“You swear this?” Words were spoken slowly, Logan still staring deep into his eyes, as if searching for some hint of trickery or betrayal. Virgil nodded, hoping beyond hope that his honesty, his determination was still clear on his face. He swallowed heavily, taking a moment to think about this, about what he was actually doing and what he had to give up. Not that it mattered. The price was more than worth it.

“I swear. On my father’s name, I swear once we rescue Roman, you may decide my fate and I will willingly accept it.”

“Done.” Logan extended a clawed arm, allowing Virgil to shake one of the talons, creating the pact. He felt something run along his arm, a cold sensation that swept along him, from the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes. It lasted a mere second, the feeling of the chill rushing through his body before the moment was gone, although the cold remained. Virgil just hoped he wouldn’t live to regret this. He hoped that Roman would live full stop. Virgil pulled his hand back, wrapping his arms around himself to try and regain some of of the heat that had been drained from his body.

“Come on. Let’s go save my idiot.”

Chapter Text

As usual, Virgil spent the flight with his eyes tightly closed, body pressed low against Logan, praying for it to be over. They flew rapidly over house and hill, crossing the great distance as darkness fell, Virgil feeling the chill of night settle against his exposed skin, the young man curling tighter into his cloak. Logan still hadn't asked about it, as though he wasn't curious about its sudden appearance and the lack of questions made Virgil’s heart ache.

Logan had always been bursting with all manner of questions, wanting to understand everything about the world. A brand new purple cloak should have had him asking dozens of questions, should have had his nimble mind leaping from topic to topic but now it seemed, he simply didn't care. It was yet more proof of how far away his Logan actually was from this moment.

“Strange,” Logan muttered, the suspicion clear in his voice as they flew ever closer to the castle. “Someone should have seen us by now... it is almost as though they are letting us get close.”

Virgil knew he was going to have to admit to something, in case Logan acted on the very clear belief that he was being led into a trap. He shivered at the idea of being so close only to have Logan change his mind at the last minute. The dragon hadn't spotted Roman during the flight which meant he had already reached the Queen Mother and who knew what she was doing to him. She could be torturing him, or worse, messing with his mind, changing the man he loved. She could be doing anything right now and he hated not knowing.

“I’m using my magic, a basic cloak below us. Anyone looking up just sees sky. So long as they don’t look too hard, or too long.”

“Truly?” The suspicion was still so clear to hear in his voice, the sound like a physical blow to his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs at how little the dragon trusted him now. How he saw him as a thing or an opponent. The blows just kept on coming, giving him no time to recover from the pain before added proof was offered and yet he had to keep trying. He had to.

“Logan. I wouldn’t lie to you. Some part of you is still my friend, the man who helped me escape, who is my best friend, who I love and who wants only the best for us both.”

“Do not test me!” Logan snapped, jaws clicking angrily together. He swerved a little as he spoke, Virgil giving a soft yelp and clinging close to him, his heart pounding at the unexpected movement.

“Do not think you can get me to change my mind. We will save your silly thief, then you will be my treasure. As agreed.”

“As agreed,” Virgil repeated dully and he was trying to hold onto hope, he really was. He was trying to remain optimistic, trying to believe that he would work out the way to save his friend and soon. He was trying so hard to think there was a way out of this mess. His father had left him with precious little clues and so he was forced to just feel his way along the best he could in the hope that things would turn out as promised.

“We are here.”

Virgil cracked one eye open, and then the other, for a moment forgetting his fear of flying as he stared in wonder at the sight in front of him. His old home, the castle had had been born in, the one he had grown up in. The sight of his few triumphs and his many, many failures.

It was even more beautiful than he remembered. Hundreds of candles lit up the darkness around them, a light in every window, a series of touches flaring into life and showing the way between the various buildings clustered around the imposing castle. It looked like something out of one of his stories, a blaze of light against the encroaching night. He couldn’t remember it ever looking like that before. There would always be some lights of course, but this wasn’t just a few, this was the whole castle still awake and going about their business.

Almost as though there is some event going on. They hovered above the grand hall, the scene of his abduction all those years ago. The roof had been repaired, tiles a different shade of blue and from this height it was painfully obvious to tell the difference and make out the rough outline of a dragon. Who now seemed to be carefully lining himself up, as though he had noticed the different colour himself.

“Please, tell me you're joking,” Virgil groaned, a flutter of nerves in his stomach as he looked down at the hall, eyes darting from the room to the wide open doors at the far end where even now a trickle of people were still entering the building, a pair of royal guards posted at the entrance, thankfully still oblivious to the looming dragon. Something was certainly going on tonight and in the hall. Was it too much to hope it wasn’t related to Roman?

“I didn't say anything.” Logan gave a throaty little chuckle, still eyeing the roof with devious intent.

“You didn't have to,” Virgil replied and it was strange how parts of him were still so familiar, still so undeniably Logan. And then there were other parts that were a complete stranger. “I know what you're planning and seriously?”

Logan twisted his neck to look back at him, a smirk on his face, one that told Virgil he was completely right about what his friend was about to do.

“I'm a very serious person,” he assured Virgil. That was the only warning he gave him before he was dropping through the air like a giant dragon shaped brick, smashing through the roof of the hall in exactly the same place as his previous entrance. With a scream, Virgil closed his eyes , feeling his stomach rise alarmingly up into his throat and despite knowing that was what going to happen, he hadn’t been able to prepare himself.

Logan gave an almighty roar as they landed, bits of debris falling around them, bits of dust landing in Virgil’s hair. Logan roared again, his head rearing back, fury evidence in that scream. It gave him the courage to risk opening his eyes again, taking in the scene in front of him and it seemed as though Logan had landed once again on the large area of raised floor where his throne was located.

The first thing he saw, albeit still slightly obscured by the dragon he was sitting on was Roman.

The knight stood a few feet away, at the foot of the three steps that led up the platform, heavy cuffs encasing his wrists and attached to an equally heavy looking chain that snaked down to the floor, trapping him firmly in place. A thick gag was forced into his mouth, probably the only way they had found to get him to stop talking - Roman never seemed to know when it was best to be quiet it seemed. A number of guards were positioned around him, each brandishing weapons although they were turned towards the giant dragon facing them instead of against Roman where Virgil suspected they had originally been pointing.

Roman didn’t look great, the still healing gash on his forehead newly reopened, a trickle of blood running down his face. His hair was all messed up, sticking up all over the place and any other time he might have laughed at the sight of Roman looking less than perfect if it wasn’t for the utterly deadly situation they found themselves in.

His clothes were slightly torn and dirty, the sheath on his hip devoid of his sword, but it was clear he hadn’t gone down without a fight. That was his Roman, a faint, fond smile curling on his lips despite himself and he had known the other man wouldn't go down without a fight. Even like this, he was still the most handsome man he had ever seen.

Roman stared right back at him, eyes blown wide and oh - Virgil really loved this moron. Like, really, really loved him. Even like this, when all his fears had been proven true and really how long had Roman been here? It had to be hours at most, and that was not a lot of time for him to get himself captured and yet here they were and Virgil was showing up to save him again. That was quite a reversal of roles.

A scream had Virgil tearing his gaze away from Roman to finally take in the rest of the room, the crowd that cowered away from Logan who was still posing, drinking in the fear from crowds gathered within, those closest to the door fighting and scrambling over each other in a bid to escape. A few guards were jostled roughly within the crowds, struggling helplessly to try and maintain some kind of order.

A little to his left stood Patton, the man staring at the scene with his hands clasped over his mouth in horror, frozen to the spot. He looked much as Virgil remembered him, his hair as curly as ever, the freckles tracing a milky way across his nose and cheeks just as vibrant as his memory told him. There were subtle differences too, shoulders hunched a little as if crawling into himself, as well as added sadness etched into his features, traces of a journey that couldn’t have been easy. Anguished eyes were moving between Roman and the dragon, flickering rapidly as though he couldn’t decide which to actually look at.

There wasn’t much time to really take in Patton, let alone think about talking to him, because next to him, stood the Queen Mother.

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her, feeling all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in revulsion. Some part of him wanted to just turn tail and run at the mere sight of her, terrified of everything she represented. He hadn’t tested his powers really, he didn’t know what he could actually do, and while he had studied for years that was no replacement of the actual experience she would have amassed. Another, larger, part kept him in place, a rush of energy and a whispered voice reassuring him, he could do this. It was long past the time of reckoning for her.

Somehow, she managed to look more regal, more remote than ever before. Her golden hair was done in a hairstyle eerily reminiscent of his mother’s portrait, the unwilling comparison making his blood boil. She was clad in deep, rich purple wine, her long sleeves trailing against the floor. Even the colour of her outfit infuriated him, and how dare she claim all the trappings of monarchy for herself, how dare she sully his mother’s memory by imitating her. Virgil wanted to confront her, wanted to talk to her, yell at her. Wanted to make her hurt, wanted her to admit before the whole court the sheer range of her crimes. He wanted her dead. No, he wanted her banished. No, he wanted her sorry.

He wanted everything, the good and the bad, the noble and the ignoble. It all got jumbled up in his mind, Virgil unable to pick which he wanted most. Logan took the decision out of his hands, the large dragon finally catching sight of her too. His roar somehow shifted in intensity, becoming yet more violent, yet more rage filled, a pure scream of malice and fury. It seemed, even in this mental state, some part of Logan still retained his anger towards her although he didn’t know if it was because of what she had done to him or what she had to be doing every day, to Patton.

It was over in a matter of moments. All Virgil could do was watch as Logan lunged forward, batting the Queen Mother angry aside as if she was were made of dust motes. She flew through the air like a crumpled piece of paper, colliding heavily against one of the stone pillars. The woman dropped with a sickening thud, her crown falling from her head and bouncing along the room, rolling to a stop against the bottom step. She looked so small, small and still, lying there amongst the flakes of the roof and other dislodged stones. It was a very... anticlimactic end to her, Virgil unable to see from this distance if she was breathing. And he wasn’t really sure how he felt about it if she wasn’t. Funny, he had expected more from her, a greater fight to defeat her.

The guards near the foot of the stairs seemed to finally snap to attention, completely ignoring Roman and shuffling forward as if to attack Logan. This was going to get very bad, very quickly, his hand flying to the purple gem and frantically trying to get his friend’s attention before he hurt anyone else. Virgil couldn’t let this escalate, couldn’t let anyone else get injured and these were still his people.

“Don't kill... anyone else. I will stop them from attacking you, please Logan.”

There was a brief pause, Virgil almost able to hear Logan thinking, the dragon eyeing the people in front of him warily.

“Nowhere in our deal did you specify how I would treat others... but fine. The moment one attacks me however, I will kill them all.”

“Stop!” Virgil commanded, pushing himself up and off his seat, leaping gracefully from the back of the dragon to stand next to him. But only for a moment, and Virgil couldn’t allow himself to slow down, to stop or thing about what he was doing. He moved forward briskly, stepping in front of Logan in the hope that the guards would recognise him and so not attack. It kept them safe as well, Logan unable to fry them if he was standing in the path of the fireball - or so he hoped at least.

He could hear his name being whispered, a ripple that spread through the crowd, people seeming to forget their own fear for a moment as they talked amongst themselves in wonder at his sudden reappearance. At least, he hoped they were talking in wonder and not disgust, but it was impossible to pick out any other words, the sounds overlapping each other too much.

“My... my lord.” One of the guards from among the crowd pushed his way through the terrified people, moving past the handful that still stood there with weapons raised, uncertain of what to do. He slowly climbed the steps, body bent a little from age. His hair was whiter than Virgil remembered, longer too, but there was no mistaking that face. His father’s Right Hand, his most loyal knight and one of the bravest people Virgil has ever known. He reached the top, hand lifting a little as if to cup Virgil’s face but stopping himself from actually touching, expression one of wonder. “Is it really you?”

“Sir Bernard, it has been far too long,” Virgil replied, genuine warmth in his voice. “It is really me,” he added, lifting a hand to touch against the sigil on the man’s armour, the symbol flaring to life in a flash of vivid purple at the contact, reacting to his bloodline. It amazed him a little, that they still wore his symbols - although, he couldn’t help but notice, a number did not, the group that had been clustered around their prisoner Roman prominent among them. It wasn’t enough to determine people’s loyalties, not on such slender evidence alone but he knew he would have to keep an eye on those who chose the Queen Mother’s sign over his.

Virgil looked past Bernard to where Roman still stood chained, the other man struggling a little against his bounds, a steady stream of muffled protests coming from him and it seemed as though a gag could only partly keep him quiet. Virgil bit down the smile that wanted to grow at the indigent reaction Roman seemed to have to being ignored. It wasn’t exactly the time to be smiling, not when they were still balanced on the edge of a knife and it could fall either way. Virgil nodded towards Roman before focusing his gaze back on Bernard.

“What crimes does he stand accused of?”

Bernard swallowed a couple of times, his gaze shifting to the crumpled form of the Queen Mother before snapping to attention, back straightening, head held high.

“He... uh, he accused the Queen Mother of treachery, my Lord. He had some tale of how she had cursed your friend into the form of... well, of a black dragon and how her actions had forced you to flee your home. He claimed to know your whereabouts and that you were safe but he refused to tell anyone unless she was arrested but he offered no evidence beyond his own word and while I respect and admire Sir Roman greatly, his word cannot stand against that of our Queen.”

“Well I came on the back of a dragon didn't I?” Virgil asked calmly, and he could feel Logan’s impatience, the gaze of the dragon burning into his back. He wanted this to be over, wanted to leave and go back to being a dragon, doing the kind of things that dragon’s did. Virgil didn’t know how much longer his patience would last and he still didn’t know how to get out of this. He could complete his original mission though, hands resting behind his back, legs slightly apart in a pose he had seen his father stand in whenever he wanted to give a speech.

“This man, Sir Roman is my knight. His words and reasoning's were true, the Queen Mother is... guilty of such terrible crimes but I did not wish it to end this way. I order you to release him, at once.” A trial would have been better, although every day, every hour she had been allowed to defend herself would have just given her more room to manoeuvre or manipulate. It was easier this way, if not necessarily better. The guards hesitated for a moment before turning to obey him, the chains and cuff falling away, the gag untied seconds later.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away a little, Virgil taking a staggering step towards the newly freed knight, Roman rapidly crossing the distance between them too. He had no plan for what he was going to do, no thoughts, not even if he was angry at Roman for leaving or just so relieved he was okay.

Virgil reached the bottom of the steps just as Roman did and there was a look in his eyes, one of intent, determination. It was similar to how he had looked when he had decided he really wanted to live in the dream world and once again it was aimed at him, one hand catching around his waist. The other lifted higher, Virgil following it with his eyes, mouth suddenly dry as Roman pressed up against him.

Warm hand tangled in his hair, Roman leaning close and - oh. Virgil’s eyes fluttered closed as lips found his own, his hands lifting to rest awkwardly against the others shirt. They kissed as though they had known each other for years, a familiar, comforting kiss but no less passionate because of it. It spoke of coming home, of safety, of warmth and love and sparks that could fan into something far more intense given the chance. He was too surprised to do much besides follow the tides of the kiss, its rise and fall, Virgil letting Roman take control and simply losing himself in the moment until finally the need for air outweighed everything else and they were forced to pull apart, Virgil’s chest heaving as he stared at the other man.

“Hello Princey,” Roman murmured breathlessly against his lips when they finally broke apart, a wild smile on his face. “I knew you’d come for me.” Virgil wanted to laugh at that, feeling a similar smile stretch across his own lips, giddy at the sensation of the kiss, of being brave enough to have kissed him in front of everyone.

It had been even better than he had fantasied.

Chapter Text

For a moment he forgot about the battle still to be waged, or the chaos that was unfolding around him. He forgot about everything but the taste of Roman and raspberries on his lips, the tart sweetness so perfectly Roman. It was intoxicating, his heart swelling with love, with so much love, as if he might physically burst from how much he cared. If it was daytime, he would have sworn birds would suddenly fly around him, singing their song, flowers tilting their faces towards him, all that crap that he couldn’t help but think was no longer complete crap.

Virgil licked his lips slightly, staring at Roman with that same wild, ecstatic smile on his face. He felt hungry, greedy for more kisses, the touch having woken something within him. In that second, Virgil knew they could kiss every day for the rest of his life and he would never grow tired of it. Not that he was going to get that, there was no happy ending for him with this knight. Nothing to look forward to but hunting for a cure for Logan if the dragon insisted on taking him away. With that knowledge in mind, would it hurt to kiss him again, as every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do?

After all, he might never see Roman again after tonight.

Hands tightened in Roman’s clothing, tugging him forward to press his lips hungrily and if this was his last kiss then he was going to make it one to remember. Virgil tried to pour all of his feelings into the kiss, all of the love he felt, all the things he had been too surprised in the moment to express before. He put everything he was into the kiss, Roman enthusiastically pressing back, as desperate for this moment as he was it seemed.

Again, it was oxygen that finally prompted them to break apart, teeth scraping against Roman’s bottom lip, trying to maintain contact between each other for as long as possible and Virgil didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to be thrown back into the reality that was waiting for them. He wanted to be selfish just once, to take what he wanted above the needs of everyone else. He wanted to just gaze into Roman’s golden eyes, drink deeply and just be with him. He wanted the world. He wanted... He wanted...

“Patton...” Virgil breathed, eyes growing wide.

“Okay... going to be honest, not exactly the name I was hoping you were going to whisper after those kisses,” Roman replied, expression a mix between hurt and confused. Virgil wanted to apologise, wanted to kiss away the tiny little downturn of lips, wanted to promise that it was him, it had always been him. Even before Virgil had known who he was, it had always been him and no other.

But there was also the fact that he was supposed to be engaged to Patton and he had just kissed someone elses face off right in front of him without having a conversation with him first. And Patton deserved so much better than to see that, deserved to know and perhaps even give his blessing considering how he was sure both of them just wanted to be friends over anything else.

Not to mention the man had just witnessed his mother being, at best knocked out and at worst killed. Patton was a good man, was too good a man and it wouldn’t matter what type of person she or anything she had done, he would be sad she had been hurt or worse. It seemed cruel to kiss in front of him when Logan was trapped in a dragon’s body, when he still thought his own love was missing. He couldn’t carry on being that cruel, that selfish.

He had to be Prince once more, put his own feelings to the side as best he could and somehow get himself and Logan out of this without causing anymore pain. Virgil smiled softly at Roman, a hint of sorrow in his face at the thought of how soon this had to end, hand dropping from his shirt to find his own, fingers entwined together.

“We need to talk to Patton,” he explained, watching as understanding flickered across Roman’s face before horror as if he suddenly realised what he had done while his Lord was watching. “It’ll be okay,” Virgil added, knowing it wouldn’t but he was supposed to offer hope to everyone else, even if it was a lie. It was what a Prince had to do. He took a deep breath, offering Roman another smile before gently turning them both in order to face Patton. Virgil expected hurt or surprise to be etched on Patton’s face. Maybe, if he was very lucky, he would see understanding, acceptance, encouragement. At the very least, he expected Patton to be looking at them, since everyone else in the whole building seemed to be.

Patton was standing and staring alright. But not at them. His gaze was fixed on the dragon that even now was posing as if still planning to leap off the platform and roast everyone here. His head was flicking widly backwards and forwards, trying to keep his attention split evenly between all the threats he could see. Logan looked angry rather than anything else, Virgil swallowing softly at the thought and kissing Roman hadn’t been mentioned either way in their deal, it wasn’t as though he was planning to backtrack on what they had agreed.

That didn’t explain why Patton was staring so intently at him, a faint frown on his face as though here was a puzzle that he couldn’t quite work out. Virgil found himself holding his breath without really knowing why, not sure what he was waiting for as he silently watched. Patton’s gaze suddenly softened a little as though something had clicked inside of his mind and he took a small step. Away from the crowd, away from Virgil and Roman, away even from the still form of his mother. Towards the dragon.

“... Logan?”

Upon hearing his name, Logan snarled, his whole head snapping around to glare at the person who had spoken. Ears flattened tight against his head as he realised it was Patton, the man taking another step towards him as Logan reared back onto his hind legs, trying to puff himself up to as large as height as possible in an attempt to intimated Patton who simply grinned, not at all put off by the show.

“Logan, it is you, isn’t it,” Patton said joyfully, a bright smile blossoming across his features as if he didn’t care that Logan was a dragon. Then again, he wouldn’t care. He had been able to see past scale and fang to see the person inside, had only cared about who he really was on the inside. He had been able to see Logan in just a few glances. It was a lot faster than Virgil had been able to look past outward appearances.

Sure he must have heard Roman’s claims but there was a world of difference between hearing something so outlandish and then actually believing it. Especially when the dragon had shown up so angry and so unlike the mild librarian Patton had known and loved. It couldn’t be easy to look at those two very different personalities, people and somehow see the same soul burning within. And yet Patton had. Logan’s eyes widened in shock at the words directed at him, Virgil hearing himself gasp at the sight of them, at the brown that had surged back to life within them, a rich mahogany brown.

Oh.

Oh.

Of course.

It was as though a thousand candles had suddenly flickered to life in his head, his thoughts bursting brightly as realisation dawned. Okay, Virgil really was an idiot and his father really had been right all along. Love was the answer alright and he was never going to be able to break the curse because he and Logan had the wrong type of love between them. It was all so clear now, Virgil tightening his hold on Roman and tugging him back when the knight strode forward to try and protect Patton. This was something the other man had to do on his own.

Curses were funny old things. Magic was all about intent, all about what you were thinking about when you cast it even if on a subconscious level. It could alter the details of a curse but not the overall thing. It could limit what type of love could be the curse, the strongest of magics. He supposed it hadn’t even occurred to the Queen Mother and her witch mentor that there would be someone who would love Logan like this, in a romantic sense. Of course, he was so blind, the answer was True Love.

Nothing was stronger than True Love.

Maybe that was how he had been able to pull Logan back from the brink so many times before, the curse reacting to his deep love a little, recognising it as the true love that could sometimes blossom between friends but not accepting it as the True Love needed to break such a curse. Roman tried to step forward again and again he tugged him back, worried in case his presence would break the moment between them and the last thing they could afford was for the more dragon aspects of Logan to take control once more.

“Trust me,” Virgil whispered, brushing a light kiss against Roman’s jaw. The knight blinked a few times, clearly conflicted, his jaw clenched and twitching. It was impossible to resist peppering another feather light kiss against the joint there, mumbling his words into skin. “Please, trust me. Patton knows what he’s doing.”

Or so Virgil had to hope.

Logan backed up as Patton continued advancing on him, turning tail and darting behind the golden throne that sat pride of place in the center of it, miraculously untouched by his entrance. Virgil had to bite down a smile at the sight of it - an enormous dragon trying to hide behind what in comparison was a tiny yellow chair as the most innocent and harmless looking man approached him. He could barely get half his body behind it, Logan someone managing to scrunch himself even smaller, hiding his head behind one of his starry wings.

“Logan... oh I’ve missed you so much.” There was no hate in his voice, no anger or disgust. Nothing negative at all in fact, just warmth and acceptance. He reached the top of the steps, that same smile still on his features, honestly delighted by this turn of events. “Come on out so I can see that pretty face of yours.”

Slowly, Logan peeked out from behind his wing, just enough for his eyes to make contact with Patton’s. Virgil wasn’t sure from this distance but they seemed to be growing darker by the moment, more and more rich brown returning life. Logan was coming back, his friend was climbing back out of the dark hole the dragon mindset had pushed him into and Virgil wanted to cry with relief but he knew he couldn’t relax, not yet. It wasn’t enough anymore just to bring him back to the state he had been forced to exist in all these years. He had to hope that Patton would be able to go further. He had to hope that they really did love each other still.

He had to hope that Patton would know to kiss him. He had to hope that all the fairy tales he had read were true and that the kiss would be the trigger.

“There you are, handsome.” Patton gave Logan another smile and another careful step forward, aware of how skittish the once furious dragon had been. “Oh Logan, I've missed you, missed you so much it burnt, you still light up a fire in me. Come on out, let me look at you... please.”

It was the please that finally had Logan uncoiling himself further, half crawling around the throne to stare at him properly, most of his body and tail still lurking behind the throne, looking one bad word away from turning tail and running for good.

“Come on then,” he said gruffly, voice wavering between the dragon tone he would put on to try and ward away potential enemies and the softer, natural tone, unable to help himself when faced with Patton’s pleading and Patton’s face. “Look at me and be disgusted, like everyone else. I’m a monster Patton, not this Logan you think I am.”

The other man shook his head in disagreement, taking the final step so that he was directly in front of Logan, no fear or hesitation in his movements. He stared up at him, taking in all the elements of the dragon, all the alien, strange new twists and turns that this form had, and how different it was in every manner possible to the mild mannered librarian, to the man he had known and loved. He seemed to be searching for the truth - or lie - to that statement, trying to see how much of his Logan remained.

And the world held its breath.

Patton gently lifted a hand to lightly brush against Logan’s face, the whole dragon giving a light shiver at the touch, his body swaying closer despite himself.

“You’re so stunning Logan, you have my heart all in a flap, although I do miss the necktie a little,” he promised, fingers still dancing over his face, soothing and easing him more with every touch. Patton gave him a soft, reassuring smile, the type it was impossible not to want to return. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like on the outside Lo... you’ll always be the most steamy anything to me. You’ll always be the guardian of the most precious treasure I possess... my feelings.”

“You say the words, but you can’t mean them,” Logan replied, voice growing increasingly hoarse. He blinked a couple of times, eyes as brown as they had ever been, and from a distance they seemed to shine, filled with unshed tears, the shame of his reality hitting him hard. “Look at me, look at what I’ve become.

The smile slipped off Patton’s face, the young man staring gravely at Logan, nodding a couple of times before he replied, voice as steady as ever.

“I’m looking and all I see is you.”

He pulled his hand away, expression still serious and that demanded attention even more than his smiles had done. The young man was so rarely serious, it was impossible to ignore him when he was.

“I love you,” Patton told him simply as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and perhaps, to him, it was. He leaned upward, balancing on tip toe for added height as he brought his head forward, pressing a light kiss against Logan’s snout, the dragon’s eyes closing at the contact. It was short, and sweet, Patton pulling away a moment later to stare up at him with adoration in his eyes.

Logan gasped in response, jumping away and flapping his powerful wings in a bid to create some distance between them, the force knocking Patton backwards, landing on the ground and staring up in a daze as the dragon beat his wings once more, hovering about ten feet off the ground. The movement was enough to have Roman moving once more, Virgil following beside him this time, the pair darting up the three shallow steps to stand beside Patton, the man making no effort to climb back to his feet, simply gazing at the scene above him.

All three of them stared upwards in slack jawed wonder as Logan twisted in the air, his body contorting into a painful looking pose, head tilted upwards, wings outstretched. Mouth opened, a low, pained cry coming out, something heavy and aching. It stabbed deep into Virgil’s heart as he listened to it, every inch of him screaming in protest at just standing there and watching this happen. There was nothing he could do to ease that awful agony, Logan giving another guttural cry, the sound almost forced out from his jaw as if he had been trying his hardest to keep it contained.

Knowing his friend as well as he did, he probably had been, fighting to not show the pain. Virgil’s fingers twitched, his magic begging him to reach out and cast a spell, any spell. To ease the pain, to stop what was happening because it was hurting Logan and the very thought made him feel sick to his stomach, tears prickling in his eyes as he watched. He couldn’t risk interfering with this though, no matter how badly he longed to take the pain away because this was finally it - this was going to save Logan. Virgil hoped.

The dragon seemed more frozen now than hovering, his wings not even moving and yet he hung in the air, a leaf suspended above the earth. The blackness of his scales seemed to pale a little in the light of the candles, Virgil blinking a couple of times to try and work out what it was that he was actually seeing. It wasn’t the world leeching the colour out of the scales, it wasn’t all the candlelight reflecting off him and creating the illusion of whiteness. Light was coming from him, was streaming out of him in fact, dozens of golden threads forming a shining net that took on his form. Magic was leaving him.

“True Love’s kiss... it is working,” Virgil whispered in awe, ignoring the looks either of the other two gave him.

The gold of the net suddenly grew intently brighter, meshing together to form a single shape, covering Logan completely so that only the light could be seen and soon, not even that, Logan starting to glow like the sun, the light changing from bright to positively burning. Virgil flinched, turning his head away and closing his eyes tightly against the sudden brightness, the hot white bleeding through even after he flung up his free hand to try and shield his face a little more. It could have only burned for a few seconds although it felt like an age, Virgil’s eyes watering from the intensity of it even though his closed eyes.

A new scream mingled with the cries of the dragon, a second voice and this one seemed more human than the animal like cries of before. It was still pain, still agony and it still broke Virgil’s heart as he stood there, eyes closed against the light and feeling as though everything was burning. His mind felt as though it was burning in the light and the screams, too much for him to bare and he didn’t know how long he could stand here and just listen, impotent and helpless. Always helpless in the face of events that overtook him.

The light split, two points of gold that cut through closed eyes, making him gasp slightly. One streaked upwards, a glowing ball of light that seemed to vanish through the large hole that he and Logan had so recently created. The other ball of light dimmed again, Virgil able to feel it even though his closed eyelids. He could sense the way in which it lowered itself back to the ground, the light fading with every passing second until eventually all was blessed darkness behind his eyelids and Virgil could risk looking at the world again, blinking a couple of times to make it all come into focus.

Logan stood beside the throne, a dazed expression on his face.

Not a dragon with the soul and spirit of his friend, but Logan, the Logan he had been before this whole mess had started, Virgil giving a soft cheer of delight at the sight of his friend in human form once more. It had worked and Virgil had been right, albeit far too slow in figuring it out to actually help at all.

He was dressed in the clothes he probably been wearing when he had been kidnapped, the shirt a little ripped and dirty, collar torn but none of that seemed to matter when compared to the fact that Logan was human again. Slowly, Logan looked down at himself, lifting an arm to examine his hand in fascination. Tentatively, he flexed his fingers, apparently amazed that he could do so.

“Logan!”

Patton lunged up with his own cry of delight, arms wrapping around Logan’s side as he peppered him with dozens of little kisses across his skin, giggles of delight slipping out between each frantic little press of lips. They staggered backward, crashing into the side of the throne, the sturdy chair the only thing keeping Logan upright and Virgil couldn’t decide if the unsteady nature of his feet was because of Patton pressed up against him, still covering him in kisses or simply because he wasn’t used to standing on only two feet after so long in a dragon’s body. It was probably a mix of them both.

“I think I changed my mind Virgil,” Logan called out after what had felt like an eternity, voice sounding as unstable as his movements, a quiver of emotion in it that he knew the other man would certainly deny later.

“Yeah?” Virgil replied, unable to help the fond smile that crept across his features, Roman half leaning against him, his head almost on his shoulder and oh, that simple movement threatened to be so distracting it should be illegal. He almost didn’t even want to talk to Logan, not when he had Roman not so subtly trying to get his attention and hopefully, his affections.

“I don’t think I want to go back to that castle after all,” he admitted, eyes drifting away from his friend and back to Patton. Virgil shrugged, trying to keep his behaviour light and uncaring.

“Cool.”

Virgil squeezed Roman’s hand a little, a little more of the stress of the moment draining away at knowing that events had - for the most part - worked out even better than he could ever have dreamed. There were still hurdles to overcome of course. Not only did he have to reclaim his throne officially, but he was also going to have to root out all of the Queen Mother's sympathises, change almost the entire government and learn how to actually be a king. It was a daunting thought.

Just as importantly, he and Roman needed to have a long, serious talk about his tendency to go chasing off after impossibly dangerous opponents. He couldn’t keep doing that if he was going to take his rightful place beside Virgil. He probably needed to talk about that too, and see if that was even something Roman wanted. Later. Those were all problems for future Virgil to struggle with, awkward, possibly painful conversations that would drain him greatly. Right now he just wanted to actually enjoy this moment, to bask in the love and hope that was overflowing in him. He felt deliriously happy, the tears that wanted to fall again no longer sad or pain but full of joy.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

“Well isn't this nice.”

Except that.

Chapter Text

The cold, cruel voice of the Queen Mother had him spinning, letting go of Roman’s hand - or was it Roman letting go of his, to reach for a sword that was no longer there? Either way, the how didn’t so much matter as the result, Virgil feeling alone once more despite standing next to his three friends, facing down the woman who had caused them all so much pain and misery. It appeared as though the blow from the dragon had merely stunned her and a small part of Virgil couldn’t help but feel relieved that Logan hadn’t caused the death of Patton’s mother, no matter her evil actions.

She somehow seemed more regal, more chillingly remote in this moment without her crown, her hair in a mess, devoid of any of her usual marks of authority. There was still an air about her, a tilt of her chin that suggested she knew something they didn’t and Virgil hated the voice in the back of his mind that whispered such, that instantly started spinning all manner of possible ideas as to what final trick she could have up those oversized sleeves of hers.

It even went so far as to claim Roman or Patton were in fact double agents, working against him although he ruthlessly shut that idea down, refusing to give it any thought - such a ludicrous idea didn’t deserve the seconds it would take to refute it. Gracefully, she glided forward, almost floating up the three steps to stand at the edge of the raised platform. Only then did she take the time to brush some of the dust off her dress before standing primly to attention, eyeing them all with disdain.

“Look at you all, so proud of yourselves, undoing my little trick. Bravo Patton,” she sneered, unfazed by the hush that had fallen across the room, no doubt revelling in the attention.

“Begone foul witch,” Roman declared, edging forward a little and half stepping in front of Virgil, almost as though he thought he could protect him against her. The Queen completely ignored his words, acting as though he wasn’t even there, her ice blue eyes boring into Virgil’s own.

“Except...” she trailed off, a wicked gleam in her eyes, one that made Virgil swallow heavily despite his desire to be strong, to not show this she devil any weakness. She lifted a hand, examining her nails casually, before her hand suddenly clenched into a fist, a popping sound echoing throughout the large room. “There is one, slight little problem. Without your pet dragon, who will protect you from me and more importantly... from him?”

Him?

Who was she talking about? Why wasn’t she more worried when they had managed to break the curse upon Logan? Perhaps most importantly why had she stressed the word your? A familiar feeling was rising up in Virgil, a sickening lurge and wave of pain, of doubt gnawing away at him. That even after all this time, she still knew something he didn’t. That despite his newly blossomed magic, despite the love that was pounding through his veins and despite the singular fact that they had managed to separate Logan from his dragon form, that they had saved him with the magic of True Love’s Kiss - something that had belonged only in fairy tales until this moment, had been in children’s books and so overlooked until Virgil was faced with the reality of it, until Patton had stepped closer and he had realised that yet - this was the only way it could have played out.

All these victories and yet a single sentence from the Queen Mother threw him right back into the sea of doubt, and he was left twisting in the wind, wondering what on earth she had up her sleeve to make her seem so confident still.

The answer, when it came, arrived on two wings and a roar that sent a chill running down Virgil’s spine.

Colour drained from his face as he watched a large, black and far too similar looking dragon drop through the hole that Logan had made his grand entrance in. If it wasn’t for the fact that Logan was standing directly beside him, human once more, Virgil might have doubted his memories of the last few moments. The beast roared once more, flinging back its head to emit a powerful blast of fire, flames blackening the tiles of the roof.

It was Logan, but not as he knew him. Every human aspect of the dragon had been wiped away and all that was left in its place was a vicious beast that lived only for the hoard. This dragon somehow looked far more wicked than Logan ever had, despite how it seemed an almost exact replica. It was in the way it held itself, the proud tilt of the head or wings that were still flapping even after it had landed, showing off it’s capabilities. Every smooth edge had been turned rough once more.

The dragon ducked down to face them all, twisting and lashing out as it did. It’s large tail sweeping across the platform, barbed edge sending more of the crowd scattering, the people who had still remained until now deciding that escape was the only option. They screamed and pushed against in each other in their haste to finally leave, struggling and kicking until only a handful of soldiers remained. Most, Virgil couldn’t help but notice, wore the Queen’s symbol instead of his own. Only the faithful Sir Bernard remained that he felt as though he could trust.

Worrying about the backroom politics of the soldiers barracks did not seem important compared to the far more important issue. Namely the dragon that was still standing in front of them all, a hungry gleam in its near translucent eyes. Virgil didn’t really understand what had happened. The spell had been to physically change Logan into a dragon... right? There were other spells he had read, spells that grafted two beings into one but he had dismissed them as irrelevant. Why would she have gone to all that trouble if she already had a dragon?

“Waste not, want not,” she purred, as though in answer to his unspoken question and all Virgil could do was stare up at the beast with ill disguised terror. It seemed as though somehow, separate had been far more accurate that he had realised. The kiss hadn’t destroyed the dragon, only shifted it, pulled it apart from Logan and perhaps this was what Logan had really been battling, not exactly losing himself to dragon urges but losing the control over a body they both were forced to share.

The light. The second light that had split away from Logan during the transformation. The light that had vanished and he hadn’t even given it a second thought, had been too busy celebrating the fact that Logan was human once more to even wonder what it had meant and now they were going to pay for that. For Virgil not being ready, for Virgil not thinking and using his brain, for not realising that of course the Queen Mother would have one final trick up her sleeve.

Pride cometh before a fall. Wasn’t that what was said? Virgil had been proud, had been so pleased with himself for working out the mystery to saving Logan, he had been so proud that they had managed to defeat both problems without any real trouble. What had Virgil been thinking? It could never be that easy and he should have known that. It was as though all the years of hiding and planning had been for nothing because he had forgotten everything when actually faced with trying to deal with them.

Virgil reached out, hand blindly groping in the air to the side of him. A hand caught his own, Logan reaching right back, each silently knowing what the other was doing. Warm fingers pressed against his own Logan holding on just as tightly as he was. It had been years since Logan had been able to reach out with anything other than wing or claw, years since they had been able to touch in any proper way. Holding his hand somehow didn’t seem enough, not after everything they had been through together.

Not after everything that still seemed to be waiting for them.

He swallowed heavily, trying to temper his fear as best he could. As if he could swallow down the rising tide of panic that wanted to swamp him. As though there was anything to see but the water that was steadily creeping closer and close, the dragon an inescapable element of his future. This wasn’t Logan, this wasn’t any dragon that he could reason with or understand.

There was no way to even guess what this dragon planned to do next and as much as Virgil wished otherwise, he couldn’t deny that he was scared right now. He couldn’t even start to think up a way they could deal with this problem. Virgil had entered the hallway fully prepared to sacrifice his own wishes, his own life, for the sake of his friends. He thought he had come to terms with the fact that he would never see Roman or Patton again after tonight, that he would end his life working to protect Logan, and find that cure.

Then he had kissed Roman and tasted what freedom could be like. Virgil had dared to dream, to imagine a life free of the Queen Mother and the dragon’s influence. He had thought about ruling with his friends by his side and allowed himself to forget that there would be a price to pay. That was the thing about magic, the thing that even Virgil had let himself forget.

There was always a price.

“I... strange...” Logan croaked, Virgil risking a glance to the side where his friend was standing. Logan was staring up at the dragon, expression frozen somewhere between horror and fascination. “Somehow, I didn’t quite realise how... large I was.”

Virgil couldn’t even begin to imagine what this had to be like for Logan, to be face to face with yourself but not yourself. Rather a shadow of your worst impulses and desires, of every wrong choice you had ever made in your life. And now those dark moments had come back to bite them; literally.

Pale eyes watched them all with clear malevolent in its gaze. Next to the dragon, the Queen carefully flicked a couple more imaginary flecks of dust away from her dress, drawing out the moment, basking in the palpable terror. Now that the crowds were gone and it was just them and the handful of guards still lurking on the outer edges of the podium it seemed as though she had lost any desire to hide her more wicked ways. She certainly had no qualms anymore about hiding the fact she was allied with a dragon. The Queen smiled, triumphantly, clearly feeling as though her victory was at hand. Right now, Virgil couldn’t help but internally agree. He still didn’t see a way out of this.

“Thank you, Patton, for taking care of the only thing that could have slowed him down. Now there is no silly human soul to battle the whims of my powerful Draco.” Her pale fingers were in sharp contrast to the blood red of her nails and the sheer black of the dragon’s scales.

“You may have him my sweet,” she murmured softly to the dragon, almost cooing over the large beast as though it was a cat or some other pet instead of a creature capable of leveling whole cities to the ground. It shifted slightly, almost restless against her touch, a puff of smoke curling out of its nostril. The hand holding Virgil’s own tightened, as if he could physically hold him here and somehow deny this moment.

“I don’t trust you witch,” the beast growled and for a moment hope rose in Virgil’s mind, instantly spinning castles in the air as he wondered if perhaps his two enemies might turn on each other and so solve his problems. “I remember how you left me to die, how you trapped me with that pathetic human.”

“And now you are stronger for it,” she replied, still not moving her hand from its side, apparently completely at ease. The idea that the dragon might try and eat her or kill her didn’t seem to concern her in the slightest. “You may have the Prince, you may do as you will with him. All I require is his occasional presence at certain ceremonies to settle the mindless sheep. Otherwise the treasure is yours. The only people who will try and stop you are that silly little knight and perhaps the worthless human you were forced to endure. I’m sure you would want to deal with them anyway so consider it an added gift.”

“And I may keep the Prince after?”

“Of course!” Her voice was honey, sickly sweet and it made Virgil want to throw up as they so casually discussed his future. As they plotted to kill his friends.

The dragon moved, his large legs causing tremors to shake across the platform, and Virgil would blame that for the way his knees wanted to shake and tremble and give way as it came closer. His feet felt rooted to the spot, frozen in terror and unable to move, to back away as his brain was screaming at him to do, to put some distance between the ebony black beast and himself. Virgil had lived with a dragon for years now, had fallen asleep and woken up curled up against a dragon’s side. Had laughed and teased and read aloud without any fear but this wasn’t Logan.

This wasn’t his friend and it wasn’t as though he knew how to deal with an actual dragon. Before, he had always relied on that thread of humanity to connect to Logan. Even in that terrifying last conversation, when all hope had seemed lost, he had still held onto the belief that it was his friend under it all. Virgil couldn't count on that now, tensing a little as the dragon leaned down.

Breath was hot against Virgil’s face, the beast so close he could feel every little shift in the air currents around them. It took everything in him not to close his eyes, Virgil forcing himself to meet those large eyes squarely, refusing to give in completely to the beast. It gave a chuckle, amused by his attempts and it seemed as though this beast shared Logan’s memories of being a dragon, which meant it knew him and knew only too well how scared he actually had to be feeling.

“Our deal still stands little Prince, you belong to me, you swore it on his name and our pact cannot be broken simply because the human part of me disagreed. It is no longer part of me and so only my views matter now.”

Virgil’s stomach dropped clear away from him at those words, his own mistake suddenly slamming into him with enough force to take his breath away. A dragon deal was magic, old and true. It wasn’t the sort that could be easily broken, nor the sort he could ignore simply because part of the dragon he had made the deal with was now human. Beside him, he felt Logan tense, the meaning becoming clear to him as well. Virgil had sworn on his father that he would go willingly with the dragon, that he would accept whatever fate the dragon had demanded of him. He had given his word and then shaken a claw, sealing the pact as surely as if he had spilt his own blood over it.

He could feel the magic now that he stopped to actually think about it, now that he pressed against those strange twisting feeling around him. His legs weren’t shaking simply out of fear but because the magic wanted him to bow, to submit. The magic of words, of deals done and promises made. It knew that the first half of the bargain had been completed and thus it wanted him to honour his end of the deal.

Which meant that he belonged to this Draco.

Virgil had really messed after all hadn’t he - but it was worth it. It had to be worth it because at least Roman was still alive. The deal had been to save him from the Queen Mother and they had done that. Maybe Virgil could play on that, could try and twist things, convince him that the deal wasn’t completed yet, that despite saving Roman once it wouldn’t count if she then still had him killed, that they would have to properly remove her in power for Virgil to then fulfil his side of the bargain. Looking into those eyes however, he highly doubted this Draco would let Roman live. Not unless Virgil could somehow get his brain to finally kick into gear and come up with a new plan.

As if in silent mockery to those thoughts, Virgil could feel mental claws as they suddenly wrapped his throat, pressing tight and denying him precious air. He couldn't breathe, his vision going spotty and dim around the edges, even as his hands lifted to claw helplessly at his own throat, fighting desperately, pointlessly, for air that was denied him. He wasn’t even going to see, wasn’t going to be able to argue, beg, plead his case. No matter how much he struggled against it, Virgil could feel himself growing weaker and weaker by the second, his body giving in to the pressure.

Gaze flickered in and out of focus, the world turning a little grey, a little dim around the edges as he struggled against the mental grip. Somewhere along the way, he must have let go of Logan’s hand because he could feel both his hands clawing at his neck as though that could somehow do something. Perhaps in any other situation it would have done but there was nothing physically there, nothing he could latch onto and hope to fight his way free. It wasn’t as though Draco had wrapped his actual claws or tail around his neck.

It wasn’t as though he could fight his way free but his body didn’t know that, mindlessly thrashing in the grip like a butterfly caught under glass.

The crown that Logan had forced him to wear slipped from his head as his body buckled, knees giving way. As if from a great distance, Virgil watched the dark gold crown drop to the ground, bouncing a little as it rolled away from him, feeling as if he was on the cusp of rolling away and passing out himself. After everything that had happened, everything that he had gone through, Virgil now knew the stark and horrible truth. He had lost. Who knew where he would be when he woke up?

More importantly, who knew if he would have any friends left alive when he woke up, world slipping into near darkness, his fingers loosening their hold around his throat, leaving bloody claw marks in their wake.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing to him?!” Roman demanded, his voice cutting into the narrow darkness that Virgil’s world had become, sound like a bright beam of light. The pressure around his neck vanished suddenly, all the sensations of the world flooding back to him. Virgil was still here, was still standing in front of the dragon, he hadn’t lost that final thin thread which connected him to the moment. He hadn’t lost himself, not yet anyway.

He was aware of Roman suddenly beside him once more. Knees were aching from where he had connected heavily with the floor and there, in front of him was the crown of his shame, of his weakness. It was off his head which was something but staring at it only reminded him of everything wrong he had done up until this point.

“I swear. On my father’s name, I swear once we rescue Roman, you may decide my fate and I will willingly accept it.”

Virgil tried - and failed - to keep his breathing steady as those words echoed in his memory, to ignore the ache in his neck and the pull of tender flesh that every breath gave him. Virgil couldn’t breathe, the pain too intense for him to convince his body to actually breathe as a normal person would. He wanted to be strong, to hold himself proud and tall but that was far easier said than done. All he could do was try and keep the terror at bay, to stop it from engulfing him as it wanted, because then he would be just as worse off as he had been when Draco had been throttling him.

There had to be something positive about all of this. Such as that fact that he wasn’t under the dragon’s direct control any longer.

For the moment at least.

With knowledge, came the loss of any strength keeping him upright. Virgil suddenly sagged and listed to the side, able to feel the knight’s hand around his arm, the warm touch a welcome contrast to the coldness of mental claws against his skin. He could breathe again, drawing in great mouthfuls of air, gratefully sucking in much needed oxygen, unable to do anything else but breathe and lean into Roman’s touch. He couldn’t even stand, his whole body drained as if the magic which had curled around his throat had sucked away everything he was.

“How are you doing that to him?” Roman asked, still letting Virgil lean into him. Virgil knew he needed to stand, that he needed to not look as defeated as he felt but trying to convince his body to actually do that felt like a whole new battle on top of everything else. He gritted his teeth, trying to will his aching and empty body to do something. Anything.

It took more effort than he would have expected, to do so much as finally force his head to rock back so that he could look up, staring at Draco and the Queen Mother to the side. She was staring right back, Virgil feeling a chill run down his spine at the sight, as though a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over him.

Cold eyes shifted between Draco and Virgil, gaze calculating as the Queen Mother considered her next words carefully. There was a hint of surprise on her face, a flash of unguarded expression as though she hadn’t expected that to happen before it was gone, hidden away under carefully cultivated calmness.

“Oh,” she cooed, expression shifting into one of silky regret, dripping with false sympathy. “Did my wise little Prince make a deal with a dragon? Surely you should know better than that? The dragon soul has been nurtured within that human, has grown into its own creature.”

The Queen Mother took a step to the side, her ruby red nails tapping against the silk of her sleeve, unable to resist smiling a little, that false concern vanishing almost as quickly as it had begun. Virgil was still on his knees, unable to stand up to her as he so badly wanted, unable to defend or protect, He was trapped. His own fault, he knew it was his own fault and her words were just rubbing salt into the already open wound. She was enjoying this, her tone tacking on a lecturing edge, as though they were in some classroom instead of the real world.

“As my sweet little grown up Prince must know, Draco has the right of the Old World and all the powers that brings. A vow is a vow. Prince Virgil belongs to it now, there is nothing you or I can do to change that, Sir Knight. He must hold up his end of whatever deal he made. Such a shame.”

Roman’s face paled at that, shifting a little and crouching so that he could support Virgil but also stare at him in the face. Almost absently, Virgil noted as though for the first time just how beautiful Roman was. He was stunning to look at any time of the day or in any situation but somehow, cast in the flickering light of the hall, his gaze still a little fuzzy around the edges, he seemed the most wondrous thing Virgil had ever seen. As though he was some mythical creature brought to life. He stared at him, eyes flickering from the dried blood along his hairline that had crusted over into a dark red that was almost black, to the worried twist of his lips that still made them look so kissable. Was he ever going to get the chance to kiss them again?

“Virgil... Virgil, please tell me you didn’t make a deal with a dragon?” Roman pleaded, voice pitched low, tone disbelieving. Virgil didn’t really get why he sounded so surprised by the idea - the dragon at the time had been Logan after all. Not to mention, he was hardly one to talk, he had done exactly the same thing, an eternity ago. Virgil smiled softly, hand lifting to grip Roman’s arm, trying to find some more support, trying to push himself up in order to stand on his own two feet. It was useless though, his limbs as weak and as feeble as a newborn.

“I’m sorry Roman. It was the only way,” his whispered, having to close his eyes for a moment against the disappointment that shone in those beautiful golden eyes. It stung, more than he would have expected, to know he had upset the knight.

Still, even now with the full weight of his choice upon his shoulders, he couldn’t really bring himself to feel sorry. Shame and fear, embarrassment even a little bit of horror at what had just happened to him. It was a foretaste of what was to come, a hint of what his life could be like under the talons of this Draco, when he would be nothing unless the beast allowed it. He would truly be like the Princes and Princesses in the storybooks of old only there would be nobody to come and save him because he had brought it upon himself. There would be nobody left to save him if the beast had its way and Virgil knew he had to make sure that didn’t happen if nothing else.

But he wasn’t sorry he had given himself up in order to save Roman, he wasn’t sorry that the deal had ended with Logan becoming human once more. He wasn’t sorry that he had chosen the people he loved over himself, not for a single second.

“You need to get out of here Roman. Take Logan and Patton and run. As your Prince... I... I order you to leave me behind,” Virgil instructed, inwardly proud of the way his voice remained steady, not betraying his fear or the little whisper that said this wouldn’t be enough. That Draco and the Queen would chase them anyway because that was what they were like. Still, if they could just get a headstart, if they could put some distance between themselves and their enemies maybe they could regroup. At the very least they would live to fight another day.

In his diminished circumstances, knowing that his friends would live to fight another day seemed all that he could hope for.

“Virgil... please... don’t ask me to do this,” Roman replied, voice soft, the knight making no effort to hide the pain that such an order was bringing him. At least Roman was so close that only Virgil could see the agony in those beautiful eyes. He wanted to look away, to ignore this sight because the thought that the last time he might see Roman would be a moment in pain was almost too much to bear. It was what he deserved though, he had been the one to do this and so it was only right that he suffer for it.

“Please, don’t order me to abandon you.”

Legs shook and wobbled at the pain in those words as though a physical blow, the weakness threatening to send him crashing back to the ground but Virgil refused to give in. It was easier to be strong when he was doing it for someone else, when he had to be brave for them. Never for himself, he could never do it for himself and dimly Virgil knew that was one of the reasons which had led him to this moment, that his love had been turned into weakness. It was because he loved that he had been willing to give himself to the dragon, it was because he loved them still that he was urging Roman to abandon him to this fate.

Knowing his own flaws and weaknesses didn’t really matter right now. All that mattered was getting Roman to leave, was getting Patton and Logan away from this place before the dragon lost patience and killed them.

He could give in to the despair and terror when he was alone with Draco and those he loved were safe.

Hand lifted, brushing against Roman’s cheek, tracing a faint bruise there. He hadn’t noticed it before, too caught up by the more immediate dangers, by the blood on his face and the threat of swords to realise that someone must have struck him on the cheek. No doubt he went down fighting and that was his knight all over. Strong to the end and still standing tall despite the marks of failure on his face. Virgil hoped he could retain a fraction of that strength, that he could borrow some of it, just for a little while at least.

Virgil smiled a smile he most certainly didn’t feel. He tried to think of the good times, of the kisses that would have to fuel his memories for a long time to come now. He tried to commit this moment to memory as best he could, every tiny little flicker in Roman’s eyes, every stray hair that brushed against his skin. Anything to remind himself of why he was saying this, why he was trying to force this separation to happen.

“You have to put their safety first. Look after Logan and Patton, they aren’t fighters. They don’t deserve what will happen to them. Save them, not me. You can’t save everyone,” Virgil said pleading for Roman to understand, to listen, to abandon him and leave him behind - but then how could he expect that when he knew if the roles were reversed he would go to any lengths to protect the knight? When he knew he would never have been able to leave him behind? It was selfish of Virgil to expect Roman to be a better and stronger man than he was. Roman had become so important to him, so quickly. His feelings for him, for Logan and Patton had overwhelmed everything else, including the normal care he would have taken for his own safety.

For the briefest of seconds, Roman just stared at him, the conflict warring clearly in his eyes, torn between what he wanted to do and what he had been ordered to do. What his heart and head screamed, Virgil staring back, trying to beg with his eyes, to silently plead for him to just run, to take those he loved and get away from all of this madness. The prince saw the moment in his eyes when it finally clicked one way, the fraction of a second in which resolve hardened, his choice made. He saw the mask fall down over warm eyes as Roman receded and the knight took his place.

Sir Roman took a step backwards, breaking the contact between them and Virgil felt cold, an icy chill now that he was alone again.

Alone.

Was that his eventual fate? To be alone? To have put the needs of those he loved above his own needs, above the needs of his country? Virgil knew he wasn’t a very good king in waiting. He had consistently failed to think about what his people needed, had barely been able to understand that he would rule over them and for all that he wanted to be a good king Virgil knew he wouldn’t be. How could he when he was abandoning them? A king was meant to lead, was meant to be there. To stay alive in order to keep the kingdom alive and without him there, his people would be left to the not so tender mercies of the Queen Mother. She might have been revealed as wicked, in league with a dragon but Virgil wasn’t naive enough to think that it would actually change anything at the top.

She would still rule without him to stop her, and he was failing his people by being taken by Draco.

But a king was meant to give himself as an example too. A king was meant to be more than just a name, he was supposed to stand for something, he was supposed to protect and look after everyone. He was meant to stand strong in the face of total defeat and pull something shambling out of the ruins. He was meant to be able to face down a dragon and find some way to survive it.

A king could have a cause more important than his life.

And nothing was more important to this would be king than the lives of those he loved. The lives of his people too because thwarted in his desires, Draco would undoubtedly turn his rage and anger not only on Roman but also on the innocents beyond these walls. Virgil would willingly drown in fire if it meant he could spare his people that fate. He would be brave if it was for them, and leave nothing for himself.

In this moment however, he was just a scared young man, alone and adrift in a world that promised nothing but more pain.

It took all of his energy to just keep standing, to not move after Roman, not to beg to touch and kiss once more, duty be damned. All Virgil could do was stand and hope - but he saw those eyes. He saw the choice as it was made and it wasn’t the one that he had wanted his knight to make despite knowing it was the choice he was always going to make. Despite knowing that it was the only choice any of them would have made.

“Sir Bernard!” Roman roared, spinning to face the elder knight, one of the few people close to the lower steps. He held out a hand, looking every inch the tall, confident knight that had rode in on his valiant steed all those lifetimes ago to rescue Virgil from the dragon.

“Your sword!”

The other man moved with a speed and grace that sat oddly with his age, flinging aside his cloak in order to draw his sword from its sheath, tossing the blade into the air. Expertly, Roman caught it, swinging it to side to side a couple of times to test the weight.

Patton broke away from Logan, crossing the short distance towards Virgil and Roman, uncaring of the dragon that still loomed dangerously above them. His eyes were firmly fixed on the Queen who stood remote from the rest of them. She was watching the scene play out with a faint smile on her lips, as though the pain and pleading, the promise of dragon fire death was something amusing - to her it probably was. Like pieces on a chessboard, they couldn’t be real to her, couldn’t matter. That or she had no soul whatsoever because how else could she simply stand there and enjoy people hurting?

“Mother, please,” Patton begged, his voice cracking on her name. Virgil couldn't understand how she could ignore the plea so audible in his voice, how she could stand to see her son hurting. He had never known his own mother but he knew she loved him, he knew she would never had done something so blatantly against his own wishes.

He also couldn't understand why Patton loved her still despite seeing with his own eyes just how low she was prepared to go in order to achieve her selfish goals. It was the type of love that saw glaring faults but somehow managed to see beauty in them still - or at least, loved them despite those faults. Virgil couldn’t bring himself to feel angry at Patton for loving her even with everything she had done. He was a good man, better than her, far, far better than him who nurtured spiteful feelings as though they were something to be cherished. Virgil had watched knights sworn to save him perish and while they haunted his dreams, he had never wavered from the conviction that it was better them than him.

Did that make him any better than the Queen Mother when all was said and done?

He had never wanted to hurt any of them and he had never gained any pleasure from it, had never made them beg or plead. Given the chance he had always tried to wipe their minds with magic, had tried to find some other way. But... and there it was. The but.

They still died. He still watched.

Virgil supposed he would have a lot of time to think about this, once the Dragon had stolen him away for real. Or if somehow, they won and he had to face the consequences of his actions, he would have plenty of time to think about his failings while becoming king. Given the chance, he would do whatever he could for those families he had hurt. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer, he didn’t want Patton to suffer and yet here he was, watching his friend hold out his hand to someone who had done nothing but injure him.

“Hush Patton, grown ups are talking,” his mother snapped, Virgil’s maudlin thoughts pulled roughly back into the harsh reality of the moment. Her dark eyes never once strayed from the dragon to so much as look towards Patton. He flinched at the words as though physically struck, shrinking back into himself. That was another thing Virgil couldn’t understand about Patton. Each blow seemed like the first one, as if his heart was freshly made, soft and gentle, showing itself to the world.

He couldn’t understand how the man was still so pure, so hopeful and loving when his whole life was one of pain on par with Virgil’s. He still looked at the world and saw something to believe in, he opened his arms and his heart time and time again. No matter the agony he felt, the very next chance he had, Patton would open up his heart again. That was true strength, something Virgil hoped he might one day learn to copy, even if only by a fraction.

The flinch finally had Logan moving, almost falling over his own legs as though he couldn’t quite remember how to walk on two legs after so long on four. It would have almost been funny in some other situation, watching him stagger and sway across the small stage like area, his legs threatening more than once in the short distance to give way under him. He finally managed to reach Patton, mouth opening before closing again, uncertain of what to say.

What could any of them say in this moment?

“If you wish to avoid watching this, then get behind me.” The Queen Mother wasn’t even looking at Patton as she spoke, her attention fixed on Draco, eyes wide and hungry. It was highly doubtful that she was even aware that Logan had joined them by now, the woman too caught up in her moment of apparent victory to notice anything else. Which was probably for the best and Virgil dreaded to think what might happen if she realised Logan was there, trying to help Patton.

He wanted to grab them both, to get them away from her before she noticed, before she hurt them both and while Virgil didn’t believe she would ever physically harm her son, he knew that she had landed far too many emotional blows on her and whatever happened next would hurt him, no matter who won and who lost. Some part of Patton would lose with them, as much as it pained Virgil to think that. His sweet, kind Patton who he had yet to actually talk to, his friend and brother who he prayed was still basically the same person that Virgil had once known.

That he still loved Logan was obvious by the power of their kiss. Logan would need Patton and Patton would need Logan back. They could both heal with the help of each other, but only if Patton could escape the bonds laid on him by his mother.

In the end it had to be Patton who made that choice however. Not just because of the way in which Virgil was literally rooted to the spot by dragon magic and thus unable to help them as he so badly wanted but also because if Patton was ever to break free of her influence for longer than a moment then it had to his own choice to do so.

Pleas jumbled around in his mind, silent begging for Patton to be safe, for them all to be safe. He didn’t know who he was praying too, what silent, uncaring deity he thought might be listening but he would beg to all of them if it actually made any difference. If his mouthed words brought some comfort and strength to this moment and helped Patton make a choice only he could make.

Perhaps his hope was actually a good thing, Virgil watching as Patton shook his head in silent disbelief, watching as Patton’s hands curling into fists for a moment before he relaxed them in one shuddering breath. All he could do was watch, a silent observer in yet another important scene of his life.

Patton’s eyes lifting away from his mother and to the small group of people clustered near by. More specifically, to Roman, who was still glaring at the dragon, weapon held proudly in his hand.

“What are you going to do?” Patton asked softly.

Roman grinned, expression full of teeth and sharpness, something so utterly devoid of warmth or humour. He turned to look up at the black beast, determination shining in his golden eyes. Carefully, he shifted his stance a little, adopting a more defensive pose, sword held squarely in his hands.

“I’m going to slay a dragon.”

Chapter Text

Of course he was going to fight the dragon. This was his idiot after all, and while Virgil wanted nothing more than to see him vanish out of the kingdom, dragging Patton and Logan with him, he also knew that wasn’t his way. That wasn’t the man he had grown to love and it would have almost been a betrayal of the sort of person Roman was, to convince him to do such a thing.

He still wanted him to do it, because Virgil would much rather know that Roman was not the all perfect being that he believed him to be, instead of dead. And there didn’t seem much chance of him getting out of this alive - but he had to hope. Virgil spent so long of his life being wrong in one way or another, and he would happily add his pessimistic views on Roman’s chances to that long list. Hope was all that he could offer Roman but with his other friends there was something far more practical he could give them, something that might save them.

“Patton... Logan... get behind me,” Virgil mumbled, each word feeling like a terrible struggle to actually say. He felt useless in this moment, his internal frustration growing as he realised he still couldn’t move, as though heavy metal cuffs had snapped around his ankles, chaining him to the spot. A voice hissed in the back of his mind, whispering commands, demands that he just submit to the magic. He shouldn’t be trying to move, he shouldn’t be speaking and he certainly shouldn’t be attempting to protect those that wanted to break the deal. Virgil wasn’t going to listen to that voice, wasn’t going to give in to its whispers.

No matter what happened, he would keep on fighting with every breath he had. It was the least he could do for those that he loved, the best way to honour what they were trying to do for him now. He had given his word that he would accept whatever fate the dragon decreed for him and Virgil knew he couldn’t step around that. He had to accept his fate. To a degree. If the dragon took him, he would have no choice but to let him - but that only applied for that moment.

Nowhere had he agreed to keep accepting his fate. Dragon’s used loopholes all the time, wiggling their way out of contracts they didn’t like in order to escape their responsibilities. If they could do that, then so could Virgil. His words had been meant for Logan, not this beast wearing his old face. He would fight if he had to.

“Oh, of course,” Logan mumbled, hand absently reaching out to catch Patton’s, trying to tug him with him as he took a shambling step back, body still refusing to act as it should. Patton refused to move though, shaking his head at the mere attempt. Logan looked between Draco and Patton, his expression one of unguarded terror and concern. It was far more open than Virgil could remember ever seeing on Logan’s human face before, as though he had forgotten how to contain his feelings. Virgil didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing.

“We are not combatants Patton! We must get behind Virgil as the dragon is not going to attack him, thus we will be safe during the battle.”

“Maybe I can get through to her, I might still be able to stop this madness,” Patton pleaded, eyes flickering between Logan and his mother, looking as though he would rather tear himself in two than have to deal with such a painful conflict of loyalties. Even now, he wanted to believe the best of his mother, he wanted her to somehow be more than this greedy, cold woman she was showing herself to be. Virgil didn’t even know anymore who he was trying to persuade. He had a feeling neither did Patton.

“Does she look as though she can be convinced? Patton, we would only get in the way, please,” Logan begged, tugging again at his hand. “It will kill us if we stay here.”

“Oh you wound me little man,” the Queen sneered, her attention snapping back to the group once more. She looked absolutely disgusted at the sight of Logan holding Patton’s hand, cold expression twisting into one of fury and malice. Virgil could feel the warning die in his throat as she lifted an arm to effortlessly knock Logan back, sending him skidding a few feet along the ground. His body connected heavily with the ground, a solid thump echoing around the area as he did so.

She always resorted so quickly to violence, to pain. Virgil tried to move, pulling with all his strength, but no matter how frantically he tried to will himself to move, he couldn’t shift an inch, could only stare at his friend and pray that Logan stand back up. The other man remained still and silent on the ground, a crumpled heap. Patton was frozen as well, one hand stretched towards Logan and where he had been ripped from his grasp, his warm brown eyes wide and hurting.

You think I would allow my own son to come to harm? Come here Patton,” she ordered, holding out a hand to him while her attention shifted back to the dragon. Who, in turn, was watching this whole thing play out with visible amusement. Roman was hesitating behind them all, clearly unwilling to launch an attack when his friends could be in the line of fire, and this was wrong, this was using their love against each other, making the fact they cared a weakness instead of a strength.

Patton swallowed heavily, shaking his head slowly as if in denial of her order, at what had happened and what was still happening.

“... No,” he whispered at last, the single word somehow sounding deafeningly loud in the otherwise silent room. He took a step backwards, away from her and towards Logan who had finally started to move. He gave a low groan, form rolling onto his front as he tried to to climb back onto his feet, his limbs shaking and trembling madly, protesting at the action. It was a wonder he hadn’t crashed back to the ground and Virgil was sure it was only his innate stubbornness that was keeping Logan upright. Yet another thing they had in common.

Had Patton ever said no to his mother before?

Virgil would be proud, if he wasn’t so scared for him and what his mother might do now that Patton was finally standing up to her after all these years.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to grapple with the meaning of her son’s words and the simple fact that he had dared to defy her. Hand that had only a second ago been reaching out towards Patton now curled into a fist, her anger visible in every little motion she made.

“I had hoped to do this the easy way, without any further shedding of blood, but as always you disobedient children force my hand. Fine... watch your little toys die Patton, don’t come crying to me about it later. Cower behind your intended, hide behind Virgil or let the dragon eat you.” Her face twisted into an expression of pure rage as she spoke, the anger growing and there for all to see as well as hear. Virgil could feel his mouth drop open as he stared at her, dimly aware of Patton reaching Logan and pulling him to his feet, Logan half sagging into his arms.

She couldn’t be serious? She had magic burning in her blood, she could scoop Patton up and out of harm's way as easily as she had flicked Logan away. It would take the slightest effort on her part to make sure he was safe, even if he had refused her but instead she was willing to risk even the life of her only child just to make sure she didn’t lose control? Or was she hoping that once the fighting actually started, he would change his mind and come running to her, begging forgiveness?

If it was the latter, then he didn’t think she knew her son very well at all.

“Enough talking,” Draco growled, stamping a foot, the movement causing tremors across the stage that made Virgil wobble and buckle. “Come on knight, step forward so I can roast you. I have a prince to return to my hoard.”

“Roman...” Virgil forced out, swallowing heavily, his throat suddenly feeling dry and painful. This was it and he didn’t want the love of his life to die. “Please. Run. Please.”

“Sorry my Prince,” Roman replied, giving the sword a final flick and slash through the air. “That is one order I cannot follow. Feel free to punish me for it later.” He shot Virgil a wink - a wink of all things, the nerve of the man - before striding forward.

“Oh this will be too easy.” Draco threw back his head in a mocking laugh as he spoke, not a trace of fear in the tone. The knight was armed with a single blade, and no shield, no defense of any kind. It was almost a dissapointment, how easy this was going to be. Almost. It would be over too quickly if he simply used his firebreath and the dragon had been dreaming of killing this man for so long now. Even back when Draco had been Logan as well, when two minds had mingled together, they had toyed with the idea of crushing this mortal because from the start he had realised that this human wanted to steal his prince away from him. His ideas had always been somewhat more bloody than Logan’s, his thoughts little more than a whisper in the back of the mind, something that had been all too easy to ignore.

Only now there was no Logan. No human thoughts, no petty morality to get in the way. There was just Draco. Just his own wants and wishes and desires that he could fully indulge in. It was a novel feeling, to stretch out his wings and know that he would never again have to cower in the shadow of such thoughts and actions. That never again would he have to endure the humiliation of being only a shade of a dragon. Finally he was free to play as he wished.

He lunged forward, teeth snapping, the hunger raising in him. He had never tasted human flesh, the other in him had never allowed it, had killed when the need arose but then had left the meat. Such a waste. Still, at least this way it meant he got to eat the very annoying knight as his first proper meal and that would be a delicious treat. As well as a perfect way to break the spirit of his Prince, taming him, teaching him an important lesson about how his life would work now. There was still the witch of course, the one who had made him, who had forced him into sharing with the human but who now was helping him to gain his heart's desire. Thanks to her, he would be able claim his prince as his own once more and return him to his hoard.

If she was lucky, he might let the witch borrow his treasure as she wanted but he didn’t trust her, not for a second. She might decide not to give the Prince back one day and he couldn’t have that. She was a problem, and one he was going to have to deal with at some point, after he had solved the issue of this annoying man and his pointy sword.

Draco’s powerful jaw closed around empty air, mouth closing with a sharp click as the human dared to move, to dive to the side and avoid his attack. He snarled, head and neck following after, trying to rip part of him apart. Roasting him would be too easy. Draco wanted to tear this human limb from limb and feast on his body, wanted him to still be alive as he started to devour him, wanted to taste the fear and bathe in it.

And the little monster had the nerve to keep moving, to keep ducking and dodging, to deny him his due. He snarled, the humour rapidly draining from the situation, trying to swipe at Roman in the hope of bringing him down. Again, he somehow avoided him and while he lacked any real defensive items or anything more dangerous than the sword still held in his hands he was clearly compensating by being nimble and fast on his feet. Still, even the fastest of things would grow tired eventually. All he had to do was keep trying because all it would take would be one mistake on the knights part. One little slip up and he would fall, Draco trying to lunge forward, viciously sharp teeth closing around thin air yet against as the knight dove forward, tucking himself into a tight little ball as he effortlessly rolled under the belly of the beast.

Draco howled in pain as the sword slashed up, cutting across the inside of his leg, the rank scent of his own blood filling his nostrils. He twisted violently in pain, massive tail sweeping across the area and blessedly catching at the feet of the knight, sending him flying to the ground. Fine. The human wanted to do it this way, then so be it. No more games, no more dragging it out for fun.

No more Mr Nice Dragon.

He spun, trying to ignore the smell of blood, to focus past it on the things that mattered. Like his Prince still frozen in place, two fools cowering behind him as though it might save them, as though Draco wasn’t going to pluck the purple prince up and then just eat the pair of them. He had to focus though, focus on the witch that was still watching, still a potential threat but most of all he had to focus on the knight with his stupid little sword. Draco roared, feeling the fire heat up in his belly, the thrill rushing through him at knowing it was coming. The little man was climbing to his feet but too slow, finally too slow.

As the battle rolled around him, all Virgil could still do was watch. What was the point of his newly awoken magic when it was almost instantly chained once more? He couldn’t help like this, could do nothing but scream in his head, his heart stopping every time the furious dragon lashed out at Roman, the organ only beating once more when he saw the other man had managed to somehow duck yet again out of the way. He wanted to do something, anything and yet he was truly powerless, in a way he had never been before. Virgil was trapped as surely as if he was locked up in a tower already, with only his own dark thoughts for company.

How long could Roman keep avoiding the attacks? What on earth was his plan? Surely he had to have one, there had been something in that smile, the confident pose that told him Roman was relying on more than just his charm and devastatingly handsome good looks, he had to be. Virgil just wished he had some idea of what his plan was, wished he knew so that he could stop worrying - who was he kidding, Virgil would worry regardless but at least it would be a different type of worry, one that at least gave him the reassurance that something was happening as it should. He wished none of this had happened.

Well, he wished a lot of things. Virgil had seen the knight fight a grand total of once before and that had been against unfair odds as well, when the troll had snuck up to launch a surprise attack from behind while Roman had been busy trying to deal with a literal demon.

Roman had lost that fight.

Did that mean he could lose this one, where he had to face off against a creature so much larger and stronger than him? Hope rose rapidly in him as Roman finally landed a strike of his own, the blade cutting into thick dragon hide and sending blood pooling to the ground. Just as rapidly, hope was replaced by terror as the beast fully lost its temper in the process, sending Roman flying, knocked to the ground at last. Draco’s chest heaved, his whole frame moving and Virgil had spent enough time around Logan in dragon form to recognize he was building up flames in the pit of his belly, preparing to roast them all.

“Roman, catch!” Patton suddenly shouted from behind him, twisting his whole body as he put his full effort into throwing the shield. Virgil hadn’t even seen him move from behind him, the other man moving with a quiet grace that told him he must have spent many nights sneaking around avoiding his mother. Gaze tracked the shield as is soared over head, spinning as it went. It flew majestically through the air, the shining surface catching the light of all the flickering candles as it went. There was a beauty and grace to the shield as it spun, Virgil able to picture the way in which Roman would catch it, would use it to block the flames that were bound to fill the area once more.

Maybe with the aid of a shield as well as a sword, Roman would actually be able to win this fight.

A second too late, Virgil remembered that Patton was no good at sports. He was terrible at catching things. And even worse, it seemed at throwing as it bounced against the hide of the dragon, over five feet away from Roman’s outstretched hands and where Patton had been aiming. The round shield made a dull sound as it connected with the side of the dragon, the beast giving a roar of pain. He shifted, thoughts of knights forgotten, the bloodlust shifted from the being with the sword to the fool who had been idiotic enough to throw a blunt object at him.

Pale eyes narrowed instantly on Patton who gave a sound rather resembling a mouse being stepped on, the man ducking back down behind Virgil. The little faux princeling dared to do that? Roman could wait, Draco leaping over him gracefully, swiping past Virgil to capture his prize with an ease the made a mockery of their plan to use the prince as protection.

He scooped Patton up in his talons, wrapping dangerously long and sharp claws around him, pinning his arms against his side, trapping him in place. Somewhere below him, the human that had once been him made a noise, running forward as if there was something he could possibly do against him. It was almost insulting, Draco flicking him away with his still bleeding leg as if he was nothing more than a pathetic bug. It was Patton he wanted to focus on right now, Draco leaning closer.

“I have had a picture of your face in my mind every day for years,” Draco hissed, staring at him intently. The human he had been forced to coexist with had thought of little else besides the two princes, the one he owned and the one he longed for.

Draco really didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

His prince was purple, the air around him hummed with magic, with promise and he was looking forward to seeing all the secrets hidden within him. He wanted to train that magic, to turn it to his own purposes. Once he had broken the spirit correctly, it would be useful to be able to call on such talent and he was looking forward to moulding him to his useage. Still, there was something different about Virgil, something that he hadn’t told him. Something had changed, it was crisp in the air around them, something had shifted in his little prince and that just made him more desirable.

Even without the magic, Draco would have wanted to own Prince Virgil due to his blood. He had smelt it once, many moons ago now, back when he had been young and barely even a whisper in Logan’s mind. Virgil had been exploring the castle ruins late at night, unable to sleep and had fallen, slicing his hand open in a futile attempt to catch himself from falling further. His leg had been injured as well and if only Draco had been in charge then, if only he had been able to be more than a whisper in dreams. They could have used that to their advantage, could have trapped him properly, kept him safe and away from treasure hunters.

There was no sense in worrying about it now. He would break his Prince’s legs again if he had to in order to keep him still. His precious prince that stank of magic and Old Blood, that had centuries of the blood royal flowing in his veins. What was Patton compared to that?

He leaned closer, eyeing the wriggling being still trapped within his claws, picturing the ease in which he would kill him, would end his pathetic existence. This fake prince had dared to try and attack him, had thought that he could somehow toss something at him and avoid any consequences. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t aimed the shield at him - even if he had been trying to throw it at empty space, Draco would still seek to kill him because intent did not matter over what had actually happened.

“I’m going to eat you for throwing that,” Draco told Patton seriously, smoke curling out of his nostrils as he spoke. He was starting to enjoy this again, enjoy the way the little princeling squirmed and struggled futility in his grip, trying to break free. There was the sweet sweet tang of fear colouring the air around him, fear from the snack as he realised what was going to happen to him.

Tongue flicked out, tasting the air, that fear and enjoying the shift of emotions. This false prince was going to be delicious and he would enjoy every mouthful.

Chapter Text

“No!”

The scream cut through the conversation, a chorus of voices all disagreeing with his perfectly reasonable plan to devour the morsal who thought he could throw things at him and get away with it without any repercussions. Even his prince had managed to muster up the strength to speak and that was interesting. The magic woven around him should have striped him of such an ablity by now, should have created a perfect living statue for Draco to collect later. Simply forced to watch as his dreams were roasted in flame.

It seemed as though his prince was stronger than he had expected. So much the better in the long run. Such strength would aid Draco and it wasn’t as though Virgil could break free of the magic - Draco had lived up to his end of the deal and nothing had been said as to what they would do to the knight after.

Perhaps most surprisingly of all, more than Virgil continued defiance, was the female voice who screamed out in anguish with the rest. The Queen Mother stepped forward, anger written starkly across her face. It made Draco pause, the flames now flickering around his mouth, impatient to be letting the fireball out. He tilted his head slightly, exhaling a puff of fire. What was the witch up to now?

“You will not harm my son, that wasn’t the deal. He just needs discipline.” Her long pale fingers twitched a little as she spoke, as though she couldn’t decide between clenching them into fists of anger or holding them up into palms of peace. If he had still had a human inside of him, he might have rolled his eyes at such behaviour. How typical of her type, to get squeamish now that things were hotting up so to speak.

“Deals change witch. He attacked me, you should have taught him better. You mentioned before the risks he ran, it is his own fault for not listening.” As far as Draco was concerned it was as simple as that. Perhaps he would have spared the false prince if he hadn’t attacked him - perhaps not. Draco had been forced to ignore his true instincts for far too long. He had lived like a simpering pet, defanged, declawed. He needed to be himself at last. Talons tightened around Patton, Draco enjoying the stifled gasp that slipped from his lips as he struggled to breath against the vice that was slowly crushing him. “He is the first of many, I will enjoy eating your child after everything you did to me.”

“No. You will not harm him,” she howled, her hands starting to glow faint green. She flung her hand up, sparks of pale green light flying from them, shooting towards the dragon. There wasn’t time so much as blink before her magic was connecting sharply with the large eyes of the dragon, a milky white sheen covering them in a matter of seconds, rendering him completely blind.

Draco jerked back, claws opening without thought, his whole body lashing out, tail and legs swiping madly. He couldn’t see but that didn’t mean he was completely helpless. The Queen Mother lifted her hands again, weaving invisible strands to catch Patton as he fell, pulling her towards her waiting arms.

“Oh my baby,” she whispered, stroking his face, looking every inch the concerned parent as though she hadn’t been to blame for putting him into such danger in the first place. “My sweet innocent baby, I’m so sorry my dear.”

Patton leaned into her touch, his whole body shaking as he sought out the comfort she was offering. Virgil wanted to go over there. Wanted so desperately to pull Patton away from her, to tell him it was fake, that she was only using the moment, taking advantage of his pain for her own gain. That while she might love him enough to make sure he didn’t die, she didn’t care about his happiness, about what he might actually want. She was too selfish to see him as an actual person beyond the brief moments of fear that she might lose him completely.

“Easy my boy, easy, breath,” she cooed, taking a slow step backwards, gently drawing Patton with her as she went. It might have looked loving if it was anyone else, if Virgil wasn’t watching her kidnap her own son, step by step. Where was Logan? Where was Roman? “Let’s get you away from the big nasty dragon okay?”

It wasn’t okay. It couldn’t be okay, because every second that passed had her taking Patton further and further away from the three of them. Who knew what she would do once he was safely under her control, who knew how much freedom she would allow him to have ever again? Virgil felt his bones crack and grind in protest as he tried to move against the invisible boundaries keeping him in place. He had to get to Patton, he had to stop her, he just had to.

A barbed tail swung towards him, filling his vision and driving all thoughts of the Queen away, Virgil feeling the scream of fear die in his throat. Even in extremes he was unable to voice his terror, as if that final scream of ‘no’ at the thought of losing Patton had drained what little he had left. After all of this, he was going to die in silence.

The tail bounced against an invisible barrier, wrapping around the space a few feet in front of him but not actually connecting. Was that the dragon magic? Virgil had known that Draco wouldn’t willingly hurt him, that he would be able to protect those hiding behind him as a result but he hadn’t realised that it would go deeper, that the claim the dragon had placed upon him would act as shield as well as restraints on him. All Virgil could do was stare at the tail resting against the bubble he seemed to be in, as helpless as a fly trapped in amber.

A blur rushed past him, Virgil’s brain sluggish and it took him a few seconds to realise that the movement had been Roman. A few more for his thoughts to catch up on themselves, for him to stare in shock as Roman began to physically climb the tail and then onto back of the dragon, gracefully leaping across scale and hide as it he was skipping up a mountain. This man was a moron. He was an impossible creature who didn’t seem to understand how the world was supposed to work and just acted without thought. He was insane.

More than that though, he was Virgil’s and he wouldn’t have Roman any other way. Insanity and all.

Draco gave another ear splitting roar, his eyes still sightless and white as though a thick film had grown over them, rendering him blind. Foolish witch. This was why his kind prefered to remain in the shadows, why they were solitary creatures. Witches would inevitably betray any ally, always intent on their own desires. They couldn’t be trusted and his mistake was to think even for a second that she would do as she had agreed.

He was going to eat her son slowly for this. Make it hurt, drown all these fools in blood and violence. Rip her spine out before her very eyes and then take his own prince and fly far away where nobody was ever going to find them again. While his eyes were useless, the world nothing but a black void, his other senses certainly hadn’t been dulled however and he could feel feet on his back, the added weight as one of the insets tried to crawl on him. A quick sniff was all it took to realise it was the idiot knight who was on his back.

That was a problem. Even an idiot could be a threat in the wrong place and this was certainly the wrong place. He lashed out blindly, wings flapping as he tried to dislodge the knight, to send him crashing to the ground where he could finally kill him. The wound on the back of his leg made it difficult to move as freely as he wanted, the sharp pain stopping him from being and twisting. But he didn’t need all his limbs to get rid of the pest, Draco bodily shaking himself, trying to send him flying.

The knight wobbled, vanishing from sight and for another heart stopping second, Virgil thought that this was finally it, that Roman was dead. Only for a familiar mop of brown hair to reappear on the side of the dragon, hand grimly clinging to one of the spikes that ran along the length of the spine. With a grunt, Roman pulled himself back on top, ducking a moment later, almost flat against scales to avoid a tail that swished angily across, so close Roman could feel the air rushing against his skin.

He moved as soon as he could, almost on his hands and knees now, sword still firmly clasped in one hand, blade flat against the side of the beast. It felt like an eternity to Virgil, watching Roman somehow manage to avoid the increasingly frantic attempts of the dragon to get him off his back, but it reality it couldn’t have been longer than a couple of seconds before he finally reached the neck and head of Draco, just as the dragon began to flap his wings hard, rising and tilting in the air as though intending to roll over and squash his enemy bodily.

Roman gave a great cry as he plunged the blade down into the head of the beast, metal biting deep as it sunk into flesh and bone.

With an agonising scream the dragon gave one final, almighty twitch, his whole body spasming madly as it crashed down to the ground, Roman vanishing from sight. Opaque white faded from pale eyes, a brief flash of green before that too faded, leaving dull and empty eyes in their place. The chest deflated, air escaping and leaving a still, silent ruin of a beast where a living breathing monster had been only seconds before.

Virgil let out of a great gasp of air, staggering forward and falling to his knees as the bounds that had been bound so tightly around him suddenly dissolved, granting him freedom of movement once more and he at once used that to stumble yet again. His palms hit the ground hard, Virgil pushing to keep himself semi upright at least, granting himself just a moment like this before he was forcing himself back to his feet, hand lifting to sweep hair out of his eyes - a pointless attempt since the purple bangs just fell back into place.

“Roman?” Virgil called, terror sticking in his throat. The mess in front of him was half on its side, one wing folded over its body, the other somewhere out of sight. Limbs were spayed where the beast had fallen, blood still oozing from the blow to both skull and leg. Virgil didn’t care about any of that however, stumbling a little as he scrambled towards it, his fear growing. Where was his knight? Why wasn’t he moving or making some kind of noise, some kind of hint that he was okay, that he was still alive? Virgil reached the still warm body, eyes frantic as he scanned the dragon for some sign of the knight. “Roman!”

“No need to shout Virgil, my ears are working fine.”

Virgil was pretty sure he had never heard a more wonderful sound than Roman’s voice, or seen a more beautiful sight as the knight rounded the head of the dragon, an annoyingly wonderful cocky smile curling on his lips. He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at how smug the knight was - Roman had, after all, just killed a dragon. A little bit of pride was only to be expected but it was swallowed up by the near overwhelming relief, the rush of blood that filled his ears, his heart screaming away.

“Roman, oh thank the gods,” Virgil exclaimed, hands lifting to cup Roman’s face as he reached him, checking him over quickly in case he might have been hurt and not realised just before now. “I thought I’d lost you, don’t you ever do something so brainless again you hear me!”

“It was worth it,” Roman replied, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled, completely unabashed at the attempt on Virgil’s part to tell him off. He leaned into the touches instead, exhaling slightly in relief. Free hand lifted, catching one of Virgil’s own, his palm brushing over the back of the hand still against his face. “How about I won’t do that again if you agree not to do something as brainless as to make a deal with a dragon again?”

“Fine,” Virgil whispered, letting himself relax slightly, the rest of the world forgotten in this moment because he had Roman. He had Roman in front of him and he was touching him and everything was perfect because of it. “I still say yours was the dumber plan.”

“Noted. Now... I think we have a Queen Mother to deal with still.”

Oh. Yes. The battle might be won but there was still a war being waged around them. There was still their friends to protect, Virgil closing his eyes for a moment and just lingering in the feeling of Roman against him. He was so tired. So worn down already and he wanted nothing more than to just rest, to curl against Roman’s chest and allow himself a little peace.

His people needed him however. More than that, his friends needed him and Virgil couldn’t just abandon them.

There was still a hint of reluctance about his movements though, a slow detachment as he took a step backwards from Roman, breaking their embrace to turn and face the Queen who was still holding her son tight. Patton barely seemed aware of what was going on, his eyes fixed on the still form of the dragon and oh. Virgil didn’t know what was worse - the thought that Patton was imagining that it was Logan still or the thought that had just flashed across his mind that Patton hadn’t actually seen death before this moment.

“Let him go,” Virgil ordered firmly, trying to pull up some reserves of strength. He needed to get his brother away from her. She might be his mother and she might not want to see him dead but that didn’t mean she was safe, that he could trust her. She still wanted to rule, still wanted power that was not hers. The irony was, if she had simply trusted Patton, had let him follow his heart, Virgil would probably have granted her power to a degree. Just not, it seemed, enough that would have satisfied her. He doubted anything would satisfy her.

Beside her, Patton gave a wet little chuckle, eyes pulling away from the dragon to look back at them, seeming to notice the rest for the first time.

“At least he finally got the point,” Patton offered weakly, and it wasn’t one of his best, not by a long shot. It was something so very him though, something almost normal in this strange tension filled moment and Virgil felt something inside of his relax further at the terrible pun, a small smile creeping onto his face at how normal it felt. It was still an awful comment however.

A low, unhappy groan had everyone shifting their attention, eyes moving to the back of the raised platform where Logan was shakily rising to his feet. Virgil felt sick to his stomach, the moment of relief and levity lost in the realisation of how terrible a friend he really was. He had forgotten about Logan, he had seen his friend blown away by the dragon and he hadn’t thought to go and check on him, his thoughts too distracted, first by Roman and then by the more immediate threat that the Queen Mother might present. He should have still been concerned about Logan, should have noticed his absence if nothing else. At least he seemed relatively unharmed, the newly remade human slowly making his way back towards them, steps unsteady;

Patton’s eyes widened, pushing himself away from his mother - or at least he tried to step away, eyes only for Logan. She reached out as he moved, hand curling around his wrist and trapping him in place. Her fingers tightened against his skin, Patton giving a hiss as though in pain at the action. He stopped trying to move back towards them though, Virgil noticing that her grip relaxed

Logan had reached them by this point, Virgil reaching out to catch at his friend’s arm in turn, although his grip was lose, something Logan could pull out with easily. He just didn’t trust her, didn’t want any more of his friends near her. Beside him, he could almost sense Roman tensing up, preparing himself for another fight if need be, Virgil at once feeling proud of his knight and at the same time filled with sorrow that Roman felt the need to do so. Would they never be free?

“Well, that didn’t go wholly according to plan.” She sighed in apparent disappointment as she spoke, eyeing the remains of the dragon dispassionately before shrugging lightly. “Oh well. I suppose now there is nothing to stop me killing your little pets and reclaiming both my sons. Not how I would have liked to have played it, but even blood can be scrubbed clean from land and memory.”

“Oh come on!” Roman exclaimed in frustration, halfheartedly pointing his bloodied sword towards her, using it more to be dramatic than threatening. Logan hadn’t moved since Virgil had caught his wrist, still watching the whole scene carefully. “A few minutes ago you were helping us and now you're instantly back in the ‘oh I must be a villain and kill you all’ mode?”

She snorted in apparent disgust, although Virgil noticed she was careful never to let go of Patton, never giving him the opportunity to slip away.

“Helping you? Hardly. A few minutes ago little man, I was saving my son from a dragon that didn’t know its place, rather like you. Now. If you know what is good for you, I would suggest you back away and let me have Virgil back. You killed a threat so I will be kind and give you one chance. Walk away Sir Roman.”

One chance. She knew as well as Virgil that Roman would never back down, would never abandon them to such cruel fates. It was just her way to try and twist things. So that she could try and claim Roman was at fault, Roman was the bad guy for trying to fight when he had been given the chance to leave. It was all to make herself appear more innocent in turn and Virgil couldn’t stand it. He refused to let her get away with it any longer, opening his mouth but Roman beat him to it, the knight taking half a step forward, sword raised once more. No longer as an extension of his arm but as a threat, a warning that she must submit.

“Let him go Witch. You must stand trial for your actions,” Roman told her seriously.

“Stand trial?” Ruby red lips split into a smile, a cold laugh slipping free. “Who can you possibly find to judge me little man? I am the Queen, I am the law, the power, the font from with everything in this pathetic little kingdom flows. I have nothing but the best interests of my children at heart but if you want to do this the hard way... fine. We shall do it the hard way. Don’t come crying to me about the result later.”

With one flick of her wrist she called up a similar shield to the one Virgil had called upon in the woods a few weeks ago - and had it really only been a few weeks? It felt like much longer, as though he had known Roman for an eternity and so much had changed in what had only really been a very short space of time. It shimmered to life around them, encapsulating the whole raised platform in a pale green bubble.

Trapping the four of them alone with the Queen Mother.

Chapter Text

Virgil stared in horror at the dome that had encased them. It wasn’t as though the knights on the outside would have been much help, not when he had lurking doubts as to their loyalty but he had hoped to somehow get Logan and Patton away from her and maybe somehow out of the room. To make sure they were safe. More than anything, Virgil wanted those he loved safe. He would have pushed Roman into that group if he had believed for a single second that the knight would have gone.

“There. That’s better. Now we can finish this without any interruptions.” She looked far too pleased with herself for Virgil’s liking as though she still had a number of tricks up her oversized sleeves, admiring her own handiwork.

“It doesn’t matter what you try and do, you have lost, why can’t you accept that? Why are you forcing us to do this?” Virgil asked and he had seen her concern for Patton, her own version of love. She loved her son in her own warped, wrong way and if she had only focused on her love and not let her ambition warp it into something ugly and dangerous. He just couldn’t understand why Patton wasn’t enough for her. She shook her head, still holding Patton tightly.

“These two you think you have chosen, this... castle servant and you, Prince Virgil, a mere knight? You both deserve so much better than that, why can’t you see this? You deserve each other and I will do what is best for you despite yourselves.”

“Mother, please,” Patton pleaded, giving his arm another useless tug. Even like this, he was trying to convince her, once again adopting the pose of someone trying to calm a wild animal although Virgil doubted he would have any more success this time than he had in all his years of trying to calm his mother and stall any of her schemes. She had never listened to her son before, so why would she start now? She hadn't listened when she thought she was winning but she was without her dragon now, without most of her power. Perhaps just once, they would actually get lucky.

“Mother you have to stop this. You lost this fight so many years ago, I love Logan and I always have, I always will. Please, just be happy for me, because my feelings aren’t going to change.”

The Queen Mother shook her head, fingers tapping against her side in an apparently random pattern, Virgil’s eyes drawn to it and her nails really were a stunning shade of red. He didn’t know why he was still listening to her, why he wasn’t trying to break the cage she had placed over them but here he stood, simply letting her talk.

“You will forget him. In time you will understand Patton, I act out of a higher duty than your happiness, it is what is best for you that I care about. I do what I do because I love you both very much. Yes, even you Virgil, despite how much hurt your actions have caused me. I forgive you.”

“You... forgive me,” Virgil parroted back to her, words spoken dully, and he knew he shouldn’t interact with her, he shouldn’t fed into her apparent insanity, shouldn’t give her any encouragement and yet he couldn’t help himself, he had to try and understand why she acted the way she did. “Forgive what?”

“I forgive you for running away of course. My poor sweet naive Virgil, I told you that the burdens of your position would be too much for you to handle didn’t I? You need a strong man by your side, you need a wise adviser who can keep you from making such foolish mistakes again. I can make everything better Virgil, you can be as good as king as your father was. Surely you want to make him proud?” Her words took on a honeyed tone, the Queen Mother lifting a hand, offering it to him.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Patton had stopped struggling, was staring at his mother as though he had never seen her before, eyes wide. It was strange but Virgil didn’t have any energy spare to really wonder about it, or his own feelings, that dip and ebb of emotion. He didn’t want to fight anymore, he didn’t want to have to keep struggling, keep fighting against her. He was so tired... so very tired.

All Virgil could do was stare at her and had she always glowed so? She was more beautiful than he remembered, and her words made a strange kind of sense, striking a chord within him. Virgil did want to make his father proud.

He wanted to be worthy of his name, of his bloodline. He wanted to be able to think about to the dream vision he had experienced and the love that had been promised to him, and know that he had lived up to it. He wanted to be a good, just, king. Was... was going with the Queen Mother the way to do that? For all the faults his father had admitted, he had still chosen her, had picked her to be his consort. He had to have seen something in her that Virgil had missed all these years. There had to be something to her beyond her lust for power, something he had been too stupid or scared to see.

“Come home with me, I will do better this time, I love you,” she cooed, her hand still offered to him in a gesture of friendship. It was hard to think, to focus, her smile growing more and more motherly by the moment and Virgil could feel himself take a step forward, ignoring the way Roman pulled on his arm, his attention fully fixed on her. Roman tugged again, Virgil feeling his hand lift, a gentle brush of silver magic curling around his arm. It was easy to use his newfound powers to push the knight back, to create a barrier between them that Roman can’t cross so that Virgil can focus on the Queen Mother.

Was it wrong to leave Roman behind after everything the knight has done for him? Possibly. Probably. But Roman would be safer back there, Roman wouldn’t be hurt and that mattered so much to Virgil. Almost as much as this increasing desire to just let himself fall into the Queen Mother’s embrace and rest.

He had never had a mother’s love before. Could you miss something you had never experienced? He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling but whatever it was, Virgil wanted it to go away. He wanted... he just wanted all the bad to go away.

“And it can,” she promised, Virgil taking another step towards her, and he hadn’t realised he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “I can make it all go away Virgil darling, I promise. Everything will be better if you just let me help you. All I’ve ever done, ever wanted to do, has all been with the aim of making things better for you my sweet.”

Her hand really was hypnotising, Virgil itching to reach out and take it, to accept everything she was offering. The cries of male voices had faded to a faint din, and even if he had wanted to, Virgil didn’t think he could have named anyone who was talking. Not that it mattered. All that mattered right now was her, was his... was his mother. She wanted to be his mother and he was so stupid, so selfish to deny that, to think that his own childish reasonings were more important. He wanted her to be his mother, he wanted that love. His mother at last. The Queen Mother nodded reassuringly, her voice pitched low and soothing.

“Marry Patton, embrace your actual destiny, not this foolish lie you have constructed for yourselves. Trust me Virgil. They are not worthy of you, let them go so I can love you.”

Not... worthy?

She was talking about Logan and Roman. She was saying they didn’t deserve him and Patton. Surely... surely it was the other way around? Virgil wasn’t worthy of them, hadn’t done nearly enough to deserve the trust and faith Logan offered him or the love he hoped he saw in Roman’s eyes. And now his mother was saying they weren’t worthy?

Wait.

His mother?

She wasn’t his mother, at all. His mother had died during childbirth, his mother had loved him without knowing him, without placing demands or conditions on that love. Virgil blinked, the lazy haze of the world sharpening back into focus, the noise of the room coming a little closer. Suddenly he was very much aware of Roman’s voice behind him, the rise and fall as he pleaded for Virgil to not listen, to turn away, to come back to him, to please, please come back. He was aware of Roman begging him to let go of his magic, to just come back. His mind felt as though it was full of cotton, heavy and dull. Cobwebs were wrapped around his thoughts, trying to slow them down.

Virgil breathed in, the air sharp and cold around him, shocking him even further back into awareness and making him realise where he was.

He was only a couple of feet away from the Queen Mother, so near, that all he had to do was lift his arm and he would be able to take the offered hand. When had he gotten so close to her? Virgil stared at the hand, the pale white skin and nails that seemed so bright in comparison, so sickly bright and it made him want to throw up. A moment ago those red nails had promised safety, had almost glowed as they called him closer and now he saw them as the danger they were.

“My son, please... you need to take my hand. Let me be the mother you’ve always wanted, let me help you become the king your father wanted you to be.” Her words were less tempting suddenly, Virgil able to hear the selfish desires in them, how it wasn’t framed around what he needed but around what she wanted. How she was manipulating him still, after all this time.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to say what he wanted to say. It was as though another invisible wall was around his mind though, trying to keep his thoughts from forming into actual words, from saying what needed to be said. Behind him, Roman called out again, a soft plea, the noise breaking his heart. The words themselves seemed to have gotten jumbled up somewhere between leaving Roman’s mouth and reaching Virgil’s ears because he couldn’t quite work out what Roman was saying exactly, only that he is in pain because of it.

Which caused Virgil pain in turn and he could feel something wet stinging in the corners of his eyes and... he was crying? When did he start crying? Why was he crying?

“Virgil. Son. Come here. Now.” The honey of her words had vanished completely, cold, naked steel sounding in its place and how could he have ever mistaken that harshness for something positive? Virgil could feel the urge to just listen to her start to rise up in him once more, begging him just to take that offered hand and let her take all his pain away.

She didn’t think Roman and Logan were worthy of them. She didn’t realise how wonderful they were and Virgil clung to that thought, to that knowledge as if it was the only thing keeping him afloat, his mouth still struggling to form any sound.

“No,” he finally forced out, word almost slurred on his tongue. The open hand pulled back, a soft pop of air in his ears and suddenly Virgil could think again, could breathe easily once more. The world as a whole came back to him in clear, crisp detail and with it came understanding. She’d used magic on him. She’d used magic and he had nearly fallen for it, hadn’t been paying enough attention to realise what she was trying to do. What she had so very nearly succeeded in doing, if it hadn’t been for her overreaching in insulting the people he loved, she might very well have succeeded.

“I will make you both understand,” she promised darkly, and only a fool would have ignored that threat. “Just make it easy on yourselves, you can’t hope to stand up against my magic forever. Embrace your destiny and I will let them live. They will be far away from you, but at least you won’t have their deaths on your consciousness.”

“We aren’t going with you. It’s over,” Virgil told her, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt. His magic shuddered and stretched under his skin, begging to be let out, to be unleashed but would it even be enough when faced with her experience, with her clear skill of being able to cast a spell on him with only a few little taps of her fingers?

He scrambled backwards, needing to put distance between them again, to get back to his friends. Dimly, he was aware of Patton moving with him, supporting him, the pair putting a little distance between themselves and her, Virgil feeling the pressure ease in his chest once he was within touching distance of Logan and Roman again. Patton looked as shaken as he was, his skin pale, his breathing shallow. Who knew what she had done to him all this time, Virgil reaching out to clasp Patton’s hand, squeezing it lightly. Patton looked back at him, trying to manage a weak smile before returning the gesture.

“Fine,” she snarled, her patience snapping with it. “So we’ll do this the hard way.”

With a graceful twirl of her hand, she seemed to call into being a thick current of green smoke, a snake like monstrosity that crackled with dangerous energy. There was barely time to even take in its creation before she was flinging it forward with a cry, the spell shooting directly towards them and to Sir Roman in particular.

It was going to hit Roman. Who knew what damage it could do? No, he knew, he knew full well. This wasn’t intended to stun or make any other kind of threat. It was just for pain. It was going to kill him. She was going to kill him. And then Logan, and after that, who knew what she had planned. Who cared, because really, what else could possibly matter if she killed them.

Virgil simply reacted.

No thoughts, no fear, no doubt about if his magic was strong enough, if he was actually ready to take her on and win. He simply saw the danger, saw the damage and acted. In a blur of motion, Virgil was suddenly in front of Roman, his own hands lifting in a defensive gesture, the silver of his magic bursting into frantic life.

“Not my family you bitch!”

The green connected with the silver, magic against magic as Virgil threw all his positive feelings into protection, making sure he thought of how much he loved them, how much he cared for them all and how he wasn’t going to let them get hurt by her. He filled himself with love and somehow it worked. Somehow he managed to hold his own against her, the green of her magic fizzling and snarling angrily against his shield before fading away into the nothingness.

“I see you’ve learnt a few tricks while you’re been away. As well as a worrying lack of respect for your elders and betters.” There was almost a hint of admiration in her words and Virgil hated the idea of that, that he could have done anything that would have pleased her, even by accident. The Queen Mother smiled, all sharp teeth and cutting edges, something cold and cruel.

“Your increased powers will be useful but we are going to have to work on your behaviour Virgil. I can’t have any child of mine throwing such a temper tantrum, I’m going to have to take away your toys.”

“I.... am not your child!” Virgil shouted back, feeling anger rise up in him, an ugly emotion warring with the love and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not but it gave him more energy, more power to try and stop her from hurting Roman or Logan. Dimly, he was aware of the three of them behind him, Patton trying to keep the other two from moving out into the line of fire and away from this small area Virgil was trying to keep safe.

It was killing Roman, he knew without having to look, killing him to have to simply stand here instead of attacking as he knew he would. Defending was in his blood, protecting those he cared about and Virgil just had to hope that Patton would be able to keep him from doing something stupid. Roman wouldn’t stand a chance against pure magic. This was Virgil’s battle, it had to be, even if he was running on little more than instinct and terror, on the base need to make sure the three behind him were protected from the sharp green spears which just kept coming, flying through the air like deadly darts.

The whole thing was like some warped version of the dances he had once taken part in during court life, her magic bolts trying to hit one of the people he was trying just as desperately to protect, Virgil ducking and spinning in a bid to keep them all covered. There was no opportunity to try and launch an attack of his own, not when he had to make sure nobody died.

None of her attacks were actually hitting though, and he had to hope that she would - what? Give up? Decide she couldn’t get past him? No, he wouldn’t be that lucky, sooner or later she would simply change her tactics. The Queen seemed to come to the same conclusion as he had done, her attacks fading away into nothing as she slowly circled him, Virgil constantly shifting to keep himself between the woman and his family.

“How long can you keep this up Virgil?” The Queen Mother taunted, voice light and airy. He noticed she didn’t look as relaxed as her words implied however, her fingers tensing and straining against her magic as she forced another bolt of angry energy his way, another bolt that he managed to deflect.

“As long as I need to,” he snapped back, the warmth of Roman almost a tangible presence behind him, keeping him grounded, reminding him why he had to keep fighting.

She smiled - her smile, if anything, scared him more than any threats or angry expressions would have done. It was the sort of smile that would have killed puppies, something icy and sharp, a cruelty not so subtly lurking within its depths. Her hand lifted again, the green smoke forming into some kind of spear like creation, as she flicked her fingers back and then pushed.

Virgil threw up another silver shield, intent on absorbing the blow once more, mind trying to summon up all the positive feelings to strengthen his magic while at the same time trying desperately to think of some way he could neutralise the Queen Mother. There had to be some way he could stop her, someway he could just slow her down, just do something to give himself a moment’s breathing room. He couldn’t focus on making a plan, on defeating her, when he had to spend all his time just protecting the people he loves.

It’s fine. He was handling this, he’s keeping her at bay and maybe that in itself will end up being enough, maybe she will grow tired first. He just needed to deflect this one and then he could worry about defeating her, thoughts flashing through his mind like water rushing over a waterfall. A tremendous crash of energy and flow without much to show for it unless you were directly in its path.

Too late, he realised it wasn’t like her other spells, wasn’t a force to be pushed back against. It thrived on another magic source, on contact. It was a trap, one designed to ensnare specifically him, one designed to take his strength, his love for his friends and family, and twist it into a weakness.

Too late, he tried to cut his own connection, to stop his own magic but her own was mixing with his like twin water sources blending together and he couldn't break away. Green spread over silver, vine like tendrils snaking their way across the shield he had constructed, crisscrossing over it and rapidly corrupting it into her colour.

Too late he realised she was pulling him into yet another waking dream, world vanishing away, as he felt his body plummet to the ground, Roman’s voice ringing harshly in his ears.

Chapter Text

The world around him vanished, a pitch blackness left in its place. He couldn’t move, could only stand in the single spotlight of light left to him, a tiny circle that made the darkness pressing in all around him seem all the starker, all the more imposing.

His head hurt, a weight pressed down on him, Virgil lifting a hand gingerly up, touching against his hair for a second before pulling back with a soft hiss. Somehow, the crown Logan had given him rested back on his head, the mental representation still there despite having lost the physical one before and it felt so much heavier than before. There was a heat to it, a burning, sickening heat, the heat of an impossibly hot summer day. It made him feel a little faint, a little nauseous but every time Virgil lifted his hand to try and pull it back off his head, the heat made him stop.

It took him a few seconds to realise there was nothing beside the sensation of heat, the light burning his eyes and making him want to close them, no matter how dangerous that might be. All sound had cut out as well, and while it hadn’t been the most pleasant of noises, he found that he desperately missed Roman’s scream because at least it had belonged to Roman. At least it had been a connection to a world he knew had to still exist. Virgil didn’t want to step out of his little circle of light, hands lowering to twitch at the edge of his cloak, gripping the purple fabric harshly. He didn’t know what was out there waiting for him, but he knew with absolute certainty, that whatever it was, it wasn’t anything good.

The only positive thing about this is she would be unconscious as well, the pair of them both crumbled on the ground. It had to have been a real last ditch effort on her part, to sacrifice everything in order to create this world. Even the wall she had flung up around the raised platform would have vanished because of the dream she had forced them into which meant anyone could come up the steps now and find the pair of them unconcious, a sting of glowing green connecting them both.

Did any of his friends, his family know enough about magic to truly understand what was happening? They all knew a bit and he has to hope that one of them knew enough. For all he knows Patton might have some magic talent as well - magic runs in bloodlines and his mother was a master of the art. Whether she ever allowed him to study it was another matter completely of course, but maybe just for once, Virgil would get lucky in that little thing if nothing else. At least lucky enough to stay alive another moment.

Virgil really hoped Logan or Patton knew enough to stop Roman from touching, or even worse from trying to sever the connection between them. He had read tales of people who had gone into dreams for whatever reason only to have someone on the outside world try and sever the connection. At best, they were left with brain damage, the shock of being in two minds at once just too much, even for a magic user to handle.

Death was far more likely.

On both sides, so she must be confident that Patton would stop anyone from touching. He didn’t think she was that deranged, that lost to the intoxicating scent of power that she would put herself into that much danger. If she thought this would kill her, she wouldn’t do it. Surely? And Patton wasn’t stupid, he was smart, a far braver, smarter man than Virgil. He had access to the palace library and while it probably had held so many painful memories without Logan there, he had to silently pray that his brother had overcome that. That he knew there was nothing they could do their end.

He needed to break the connection himself, or she did. It was the only way out of this world. The problem was, this wasn’t his world, his dream. He didn’t know the rules, the secret doors that were spinning all around him, the various ways out. All he knew is that it probably had something to do with the green thread that is wrapped around his wrist, trailing to the floor and vanishing out into the darkness.

“There...” her voice drifted through the air like music, filling the space without Virgil being able to tell exactly where it came from. “That's better. Now we can properly talk, just the two of us without any interruptions from those little toys you have somehow formed a strange attachment to.”

“This... this isn't going to work,” Virgil told her, hating how his voice broke a little in the middle, how weak and pathetic he sounded. No matter how he twisted, looking this way and that, he couldn’t see her, couldn’t tell where the attack could come from and it set him on edge, his heart rate quickening despite himself. He really wished the others were here but then wasn’t that the whole point, to take them away, to show how useless he really was without them. “You already tried this trick before, I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Oh no, this is different. That was the carrot my boy. This is the stick.” Her voice was still maddeningly elusive, Virgil spinning on his heel now in a vain attempt to locate her, trying to peer into blackness that seemed almost a solid state. “No messing with your mind, trying to change your mind to my way of thinking, no use of magic beyond creating this space. Just the two of us Virgil.”

A spotlight clicked on, the sound deafeningly loud, Virgil flinching without thought as she suddenly appeared a few feet in front of him, green cord wrapped around her own wrist. His reaction only made her laugh, a mocking sound that cut through him, Virgil having to fight the urge to curl in on himself more. He couldn’t give into her, he couldn’t let her win. She was evil incarnate, she wanted to hurt him and her actions were designed that way. Virgil had to keep reminding himself of that, had to keep chanting that this world wasn’t real, wasn’t where he belonged.

There was a whole different world out there waiting for him, a world of colour and light. A world of laughter and love. Virgil had to hold onto those thoughts, had to hold onto the memory of the people he loved, people he would do anything to protect.

It was always easier for Virgil to be strong for someone else. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight for himself, but he had promised that he would try.

Every time he thought he had reached the depths of his hatred for, every time he thought she had done the worst that she could, she somehow managed to make even the simplest of things cut all the deeper.

“You really believe you’re ready Virgil? Look at you. Just... look at how little you actually are. How small and pathetic.” Her face was twisted beyond almost all recognition, into some snarling beast. She looked like a dragon but not the kind he saw in Logan, but the monster he supposed everyone saw. “You can’t even handle a single noise, you can’t defeat me.”

“I can.” Virgil’s voice sounded even weaker now to his own ears, almost defeated. He was the Prince, he had just unlocked his magic and had experienced a life changing vision with his dead father. He was supposed to be able to do this after all that, he was meant to save his Kingdom, they had all believed in him. They had all fought for him. Roman had killed a dragon for him, Virgil being able to believe in himself should be nothing compared to that.

They were all counting on him and in all honesty, Virgil had no idea how he was supposed to beat her. He had no idea what he was meant to do here.

He wished Patton was here. Patton would have given him the encouragement he needed, the confidence that he could do this and the faith that he might be good enough. Or at least, he could become good enough, and the energy he needed to keep going.

He wished Logan was here. Logan would have come up with a whole host of ideas by now, and maybe some of them wouldn’t have worked. But he would have simply countered with even more ideas to defeat her and one of those would have been the correct answer, would have given Virgil the plan he needed in order to defeat her.

He wished Roman was here. Roman would have just blazed in, full of courage and vigour. He wouldn’t have even listened to all her twisted words, he would have stood tall and beside him, Virgil might have found his own courage. With Roman, he wants to be the best possible version of himself that he could be. He wanted to be worthy of his love.

“You can’t stop me here or out there. You are useless without those fools you call friends,” she sneered, peering into his mind and seeing all his thoughts, finding him terribly wanting. And she was right, wasn’t she. No tricks, no using someone else to support him. Little Virgil all on his own and he couldn’t do a thing. He couldn’t even move, feet rooted in place, his eyes dancing between the Queen Mother and the thin band of green that was encasing his wrist. Virgil couldn’t even lift a hand to try and tug the cord away from his skin. He couldn’t remove a crown that was still so hot, so awfully hot. It made him sweat, some part of Virgil wanting to stop fighting because surely she would be able to take this heat, this weight from him. She had promised to do that after all, that she would be there to guide him, help him.

Pathetic.

She wasn’t stopping him from tearing the crown from his head, from renouncing everything it represented. Nothing was stopping him from rejecting the chains, from pushing aside the trappings of false kingship, from denying her words and actually meaning them. It wasn’t so hard to stand tall, to tell her to leave him alone, to try and look for some way out of this world. Nothing was stopping him from fighting his way to freedom.

Nothing but his own inadequacies.

He really was helpless and worthless on his own. Without the others, he was little more than a shell, a puppet that needed someone to pull his strings for him. Even if it was someone he loved, someone he willingly handed control over to, he still seemed unable to function without them telling him what to do and how to do it. That wasn’t the way a king was supposed to act and his destiny seemed so far out of teach now, so impossibly far.

Virgil had no idea how to be the sort of king he wanted to be, not on his own. He had no idea how to figure any of this out on his own.

And he was alone now.

“How long before you turn tail and run away like a coward again?” Her voice took on a slightly questioning tone, as mocking and as cruel as ever. Her own hand lifted with ease, the green glowing brighter and brighter. She certainly wasn't rooted in place. She wasn’t weak and scared, some foolish little prince with delusions of grandeur.

“I... I won’t run away again,” Virgil whispered, trying to ignore the flickering whispers in his own mind. He knew what she was trying to, how she was hoping to wear him down, to eat away at his belief in himself to make it possible to control him. An easy enough task when he had no self confidence to begin with. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to tell himself what she was doing and why, she had stirred up all his insecurities, all his doubts about if he could do any of this.

Ruby red lips tilted upwards, into a triumphant smile as though she had already won, Virgil feeling a faint tingling on his wrist, as though the cord was rubbing against him slightly, just enough to be uncomfortable.

“Oh so you admit that you did the first time? How many people have died because you won’t stand up to your own responsibilities? Logan would never have been cursed if you had only done as you were supposed to. And now, you put your own desires beyond what was good for the whole Kingdom. I would have let them live, for your sake. But now I see they will only drag you down deeper into the mud.”

Tingling shifted into a sharp cutting sensation as the green of her magic started to press deeper into his wrist, Virgil hissing in pain. Even then, he couldn’t actually move, couldn’t will himself to try and so much as lift his arm, let alone attempt to untangle the thread from around his wrist. All he could do was lower his eyes to stare at the glowing green tendril that had wrapped itself around him, helplessly caught in the snare.

Skin started to bulge around it as it sunk deeper into his arm, almost as though it was trying to become one with his body. A few drops of bright red blood welled up around the green, a stark contrast against the whiteness of his skin. Virgil didn’t know exactly what she was trying to do but it was a safe bet that whatever it was, he didn’t want it to happen. He didn’t want any of this to happen and yet all he was doing was arguing inside his own head like a child.

“You are killing them,” she told him, and he could feel his knees buckling, growing weak until only the rules of this place were keeping him upright. It was a lie. It had to be a lie. He loved them, he loved all three of them with all his heart, every beat of that organ just pumped more love around his body. How could he be hurting them if he loved them that much? If every breath he took was thanks to them, then how could he kill them? How could he do anything other than try and help them be the best they could be, try and help them shine as Virgil knew they were more than capable of shining.

Except... he was letting his fears get the best of him. And if the fears won, then she won. And if she won, then they would die. The thought of them really dying, the thought of how close they were to dying just made the fears within him grow, amplified beyond measure. As they grew, so did the chance that she would win. If she won, they would pay. A vicious circle that simply grew more violent, more bloody with each creaking spin of the wheel.

On and on his brain twisted and turned, a rat in a miserable maze. His whole body was trembling slightly, the only movement he was granted and one that was completely out of his control, Virgil closing his eyes as he just tried to drag in another shaking breath of air. It felt harder to breathe, harder to do anything and still she kept talking, her voice ringing in his ears. It filled his mind until all he could think was the words she was saying, as though her will was his own.

“You are a disease to those you claim to love, leaving nothing but misery in your wake. You cannot hope to do anything, let alone rule alone.”

He was a disease.

He couldn’t even fight her, all she had done was point out his own character flaws, how dependant he was on others and how all along, he had been relying on the rest to carry him in the fight, to do all the hard work for him. If he couldn’t even face one person on his own, then how was he supposed to make all the harder choices his destiny demanded of him? Being a king wasn’t all crowns and power. It was the hard choices as well, the no win choices, the ones that would leave someone bruised and bloody, and all the King could do was try and limit the losses. This was exactly what the Queen Mother wanted, what she thrived on, his inability to function properly. She wanted him to crack so she could rule in his name and retain all her power.

Knowing didn’t change anything, rather it only added to his own growing sense of inertia, his floundering helplessness. He was drowning in his own self pity, an ugly emotion at the best of times. It was one of his many less desirable traits, he knew. The list of things that Virgil knew was positively endless.

More blood pooled around his wrist, thin streaks of vibrant red running down his hand and pooling in the creases between his fingers. The green was starting to sink within his skin he noted with muted horror, was trying to work its way through his arm to wrap around bone and layer itself so deep that he would never be able to escape. Virgil knew he should struggle, should fight against it but what was the point? When everything she said made perfect sense. Everything he touched turned to blood and pain before his eyes and it was always those he cared for who paid the price.

He really was a disease, some cursed thing that only brought pain.

She was right.

Chapter Text

Legs finally gave way, Virgil barely aware of the jolt that ran through his body as his knees hit the floor, colliding against the ground. He could feel his head bowing, shoulders slumping in defeat as he knelt there, lost in the misery of his own thoughts, surrounded by the mental wreckage of all his hopes and dreams. How could be possibly hope to protect those he loved from danger when he was the true threat? How could he save them from himself expect for removing himself from the equation, by cutting himself out of their lives for their own good? By giving in and letting the Queen do as she wanted because only in a cage would his loved ones be safe from his rotten influence. Only once he was collared and hidden away would they be able to be free in turn. Onl-

“Virgil.”

His name was whispered like a prayer, as though it was something worth worshipping, as though it - and by extension him - was something precious. It was a breathy noise, almost caught in the air around him and he found himself tilting his head just a fraction, leaning in the direction of the voice.

Roman.

He would have known that voice anywhere. Would follow it anywhere too, and somehow Virgil knew it was really Roman and not just another trick the Queen Mother had conjured up to mess with him. He felt it somewhere deep inside his soul, an answering call in response to Roman’s voice. It helped to push through the blackness that had wrapped itself not only around this world but around his soul and mind, made him hesitate in the conviction that he was evil and wrong. But how could the knight be here at all?

It was ridiculous and more to the point, it was impossible and yet it was true. That was Roman all over, refusing to let a little thing like the supposed impossibility of entering a closed off dream world stop him.

The press of lips against the skin behind his ear had him shivering, his eyes still closed. Although he knew there was nobody behind him in this place, for a moment it was as though the twin realities of his worlds were shimmering and gliding into each other. He was in the dark place, the Queen Mother’s magic searing into his flesh, where his doubts and insecurities had sent him crashing to his knees. And he was standing with Roman, the man’s heat bleeding into his back, ghostly hands slipping to rest against his stomach, drawing him closer. Both realities twisted this way and that, colliding and then drifting apart again, spinning him around until Virgil couldn’t remember where he really was.

“Virgil listen to me. You’re not a disease, you’re not bad. You’re a good man.” Roman’s voice was pleading, begging, something inside of Virgil breaking a little at the sound, his word shifting back to the one where he wasn’t alone. Now more than ever, he wanted to leave this other place, to do what he needed to in order to remove that pain from Roman. What was he doing to his friends? Breath was ragged, as though he had run a marathon in these moments. With his eyes still closed, everything felt that much more intense, his skin still tingling from where Roman had somehow kissed, a shiver of pleasure running through him.

“You are none of the lies she is trying to feed you, please, don’t listen to her. You can stand up to her, you can beat her. Most importantly, you don’t need to do this alone.” His words were like sparks of fire to kindling, setting alight a blaze that rushed through his body. Wherever Roman actually, physically was, the mental projection of him was standing so close to Virgil that he had been able to feel every whispered word as hot breath hit his skin.

They were in such marked contrast to everything she had told him, everything all the nagging little whispers in his mind had promised were true. Throughout all the long years of his self imposed exile, Virgil had grown used to the voices in the back of his mind, the prods at how bad he was, how useless, his self doubt turned into a mental presence.

Roman thought he could simply say a few words and wipe all of that away. It was never going to be that simple, but at the same time Virgil was making this far harder than it actually needed to be. The Queen Mother taunted and mocked him, exposing his weaknesses, how he was unable to conduct a defence of himself and his kingdom alone. But perhaps he didn’t need to. Perhaps, just perhaps, Roman was right and what he was, was enough because it was him.

He didn’t need to unlearn every dark thought his mind had taught him in one moment. He didn’t need to become impossibly strong in a flash. He just needed to be a little bit stronger, for a moment and work on it from there. Just a single step forward...

“I love you,” Roman promised and Virgil could feel a twitch of a smile on his face, the knowledge adding another rush of warmth through him. Unlike his pleas from before, there was no doubt in Romans words, no break in tone that made Virgil break a little himself. Just a steady reciting of a fact, as though it was something simple and beyond dispute.

“As do I.” Another voice joined them, Virgil’s breath catching in his throat for a completely different reason than fear. Logan. After everything that Virgil had done to him, everything he had helped to cause and still Logan could say that? Could mean it? There was steady affection in those three little words and he knew better than to doubt Logan, but it still humbled him to know he was so lucky in his friendships.

“You are my best friend Virgil, you have always been there for me, have always fought so hard for us both. I am honoured and humbled to know you and I will do whatever it takes to ensure you have the future you deserve. I am by your side and I care for you deeply.”

“Me too, me too. I love you so much Virgil,” Patton chimed in gleefully and he didn’t know where these voices had come from, how they could be real but the how didn’t really matter. All that mattered was the truth of those words, Virgil feeling his back and shoulders snap up to attention and he loved them all back. He loved them and he had been a fool to let her distract him from how important that was.

“We love you Virgil. Come back to us.” The heat on his back faded slightly, as though the connection between himself and Roman was cut once more, returning him solely to the world of the Queen Mother’s devising. Before, being alone would have reduced him back to doubts and despair. Before, he hadn’t been reminded of what was really important, hadn’t been able to carry those words in his heart as sword and shield.

“You're right,” Virgil said suddenly, a hint of his new found confidence in his words as his eyes snapped open, instantly zeroing in on the Queen Mother. The pain around his wrist was utterly forgotten and ignored as he kneeled there, feeling strangely calm, sure of himself in a way he had rarely felt before. “I don't have the training, the experience to beat you. But I have something far more important, something you will never have.”

“Oh?” Her voice was positively dripping in scorn but he was pleased to see she looked a little uncertain, clearly not having expected him to talk back. This was supposed to be her moment of victory and Virgil was childishly pleased to have denied her that. He nodded, relishing this confidence, his lips curling into a smirk because now it was his turn to know something she didn’t. Something that would change everything.

“I have them. Sure, I’m not as good on my own, but that’s the point. I’ll learn to be better for them, because of them and I am my own person in my own right but they help me where I’m weakest. I’m not ashamed of that and I should never have let you convince me even for a moment that it was wrong to be able to lean on them when I need to.” With a grunt, Virgil forced his body to move. It was as though a heavy icey weight was pressing down all around his shoulders, trying to force him to remain on his knees.

He was Prince Virgil! He was heir to his bloodline, he was the first of his name. He was friend to Logan, brother in spirit to Patton and... love. He was love to Roman. He was loved by them all and loved them in return. What was she compared to all of that? Limbs trembled a little as he rose back to his feet, slow but steady.

The weight didn’t lessen as he moved but he shifted around it, pushed beyond it. His wrist still burnt, as though white hot fire was licking at his skin where green thread made contact with his body. No more. No. More. No more being afraid of things he shouldn’t, no more being led by the nose and no more of her wicket plots to hurt. She was the villain here, not him. The thought of the others kept him going, added strength to his convictions. He could do this. For them. With them. The thought of who was waiting for him kept him moving, forcing his injured arm up and away from him. The invisible ice wrapped around him felt as though it was finally shattering as he lifted it, straightening out the limb so he was pointing at her, a few drops of blood falling to the ground.

It was the last of his blood that was going to be shed in this matter, in fact the last of anyone’s blood but her own.

He turned his hand, palm upright, staring at the skin. Some of his blood had run into the lines, creating a map against his skin, his fate written in blood. For the first time however, he didn’t fear the implications of that.

For the first time he wasn’t afraid of what he could be, instead he was almost...excited. For a moment, Virgil simply stared at his own hand, following the lines across his palm as though he could read his history written within. Dark eyes flickered back to look at her, his confidence growing at the stricken expression on her own face, the growing realisation that she had misjudged him. Finally, she realised he was more than the weak little child she had tried to shape him into become.

Only a saint wouldn’t have derived some pleasure from seeing the colour drain a little from her face, the way she warily glanced around her, looking for something to use in order to regain control but there was nothing but darkness. That was the moment. The moment he knew beyond a shadow of any kind of doubt. He was going to win. A glow started to build up in his palm, pale silver resting on a bed of red. Fitting perhaps, since it seemed to be the colour that belonged to Roman.

Silver had never been his colour, not really. True, it had always been the colour his magic had taken whenever he manifested it in the real world, whenever he had needed to create something with it. Silver and empty, a shade of what could be. Except that one time. That one dream, with Roman. His magic hadn’t been colourless, lifeless then. Virgil looked back down at the glow, the silver that was pulsing softly there, a chrysalis just waiting to crack open. A slow smile curled onto his lips and Virgil felt strangely calm in this moment, strangely confident. Finally, he knew what to do.

“I’m stronger with them. They make me... better.”

Silver flashed into purple, his magic bursting into stunning life, the rich, warm purple of his cloak, of his family, of everything he was. It gushed out of him like a fountain of water, rising up and out of his palm. The merest thought was all it took to fashion the purple into a narrow blade, slightly curved at the tip, something sharp and threatening.

He spun, movement fully returning to him in an eager flush of energy, feeling his power almost sing as the world around him began to shatter with shards of black falling to the ground. They skidded into the harsh circle of light around his feet, edges curling up into painful looking balls the second they made contact with the light, hissing and sizzling as they melted into smaller and smaller blobs until in a matter of moments there was nothing left but an unpleasant acidic scent in the air.

Virgil barely took them in however, too caught up in his magic and the light that shimmered out of his hand. It was as though the blade was merely an extension of his arm, and it felt truly a part of him. It wasn’t impossible to reach like before, or feeling like some hyper version of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, a fire that invigorated him but was still separate.

This, simply was.

Sharp purple bit into green as he brought it down, hard, on the rope between them, the cord crumbling into ash and dust at the contact. The part cutting deep into his wrist vanished too, fading into the nothingness, his skin instantly healing so that only the drying blood was left behind, scant evidence that anything had happened at all.

Her scream ripped through the air at exactly the same time his magic touched her own, a loud, anguished scream of pain, the Queen Mother dropping to her knees and clutching at her head. Pale fingers tangled in her hair, uncaring of the fact that it was messing up her hairstyle, that the normally pristine and perfect looking woman was no longer in control. She screamed again, and despite everything, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a stirring of sympathy for her, so pitiful were her cries. Her whole body started to rock backwards and forwards, sobs slipping out between the high pitched wailing.

Virgil took a slow step forward, the circle of light he was in moving with him, his arm outstretched. He didn't know exactly what he was doing only that he couldn’t leave her to just scream and sob like that. It might be a trick of course, and yet he didn’t believe so, something inside of him telling him that for perhaps the first time ever he was looking at the real, unguarded her.

His bloodied fingers touched her shoulder, red smearing against the fabric of her rich robes. The world around them simply shifted into white as though thanks to the physical contact, what little black there was left melting away in less time it took to say his own name.

He woke up, gasping for air, arcing and retching against the bile in his throat, struggling against imaginary bonds that had been holding him down. His body ached everywhere, every single limb and joint straining against tension that was simply no longer there, Virgil sagging in relief back against the ground as the rest of his senses slowly took in his new - old - surroundings.

He woke up surrounded by love, three worried faces staring down at him, Virgil barely able to focus on them through the tears that filled his vision. He didn’t need to see them perfectly though to know who was looking at him, the three of them holding hands tightly, Patton and Roman completing the circle by gripping his left and right hands respectively. Later, he would have to question them, work out how they could have cast themselves into a closed waking dream, but that isn’t important right now. Later, when he wasn’t so nearly empty and exhausted, when there isn’t quite so much left to do.

He woke up and once he had regained his senses enough to breathe without hauling in great mouthfuls of air, he was pulled into a strong hug, Roman wrapping his arms around him tightly. Patton and Logan let go of them - but not, some part of him noticed, each other. Virgil could feel himself shake slightly as the warmth from Roman finally started to sink through his body, only just then realizing how cold he was. Arms slowly lifted to wrap around the other man, rocking his head forward to rest against him as finally, finally, Virgil felt as though he was home.

“Don't you scare me like that Princey,” Roman whispered fiercely, words almost lost against his hair and Virgil felt himself smiling, the urge to laugh bubbling up in him at the knowledge all over again that someone actually cared.

She woke up alone. A scream was torn from her throat in mid sound, the noise making all four of them jump a little, Roman’s arms tightening around Virgil as though he could physically protect him from the sound. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to bury himself in the embrace and just let himself relax at the end of what felt like an eternal day.

The day wasn’t over yet.

Virgil might have won the fight but the war was far from over. She might be worn down but he had too much experience with her, he knew that down did not mean out. The Queen Mother was like a hydra. Cut off one head, one attack, and if he wasn’t careful, two more would sprout up in its place.

For a heartbeat longer, he remained in the warmth and safety of Roman’s arms, of the promise of rest implicit within them. For that single heartbeat he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like without the Queen Mother in his life. What it might be like to have this everyday. To wake up this warmth in the morning and Roman might be able to even convince him of the apparent merits of early mornings if this was the kind of greeting he gained. He could have Roman by his side all the time, not as a mere ornament - although the other man was certainly pretty enough - but as a real partner as well. Someone to support him, to help guide him and to be the leader of his armies if the worse came. Someone who was his King. And behind him, Patton, Logan, able to give him different perspectives on problems, able to argue with him freely but at the same time support and respect whatever choice he eventually made. A family he could love and trust, over a family he was compelled to a part of.

He wanted that.

So very much. It didn’t matter how tired he was, how drained and hollowed out by the magic he had already used or the ache that hadn't - he realised - completely faded from his wrist now that the surge of magic had worn away. How he felt right now was unimportant and it meant he had to reject the easily offered love for just a little longer.

He pulled away from Roman and his blessed, life giving hug, uncaring of how ridiculous, how pathetic it had to look - there was no time to worry about the image of him twisting out of a hug or even to allow himself to imagine the hurt look on Roman’s face, yet another thing Virgil knew he needed to apologise for. All he could think about however was the near overwhelming fear that the Queen Mother wasn’t finished playing her games yet. He had to stop her before she tried something else and for once, Virgil knew exactly what to do, his hands flinging upward in a emphatic stop gesture.

Magic streamed out of his fingertips, thin threads of purple light that flew towards her as she struggled to her knees, hair wild and unkempt. Her eyes were bloodshot, the normally whites of her eyes almost wholly red, some demonic, terrifying thing. The Queen Mother managed to push herself up into a kneeling position just as his magic reached her, narrow little bands of light and energy that wrapped themselves around her body, pinning her arms in place and preventing her from moving or attacking any further. She was done.

Her scream this time was one of fury and frustration, struggling pointlessly against the magic bonds he had placed upon her. His own powers held somehow, Virgil forcing himself to keep breathing, a deep, steady pace. He couldn’t afford to give into that tiredness that was slowly seeping out from his bones or the panic that rattled around his chest like some loose thing, the constant fear that she could break free even now, that she could hurt his family.

He took another deep breath and actually looked at her. Looked beyond his own fear, beyond his anger and what he knew she had done, to how she actually looked in this moment. Bound in his own magic, overthrown in word and deed. She had lost everything. The things she held dear, like her power and the things she didn’t seem to really care about, like her son. Somehow, the Queen Mother looked so small like this and Virgil couldn’t really hold that anger he felt towards her. Still terror sure, her appearance was becoming more ragged, more like a dragon than anything else, but the anger he had felt towards everything she had done was dissolving into something more akin to pity. The Queen Mother had given up everything important for the sake of some illusionary power and she didn’t even seem to realise or care how much more she could have had, if only she had let things happen naturally. He might have trusted her if she hadn’t been so keen to try and force that role upon him.

“Go on then!” She snarled, baring her teeth in a violent smile, before trying to jerk forward once more, to break the magical rope holding her so she could attack, to rip him apart with her bare hands, all trace of sense, of restraint lost in her unhinged fury. “Kill me!”

Virgil lifted his hands higher - and hesitated. He looked behind him. Patton was staring at the scene in muted horror, Logan standing next to him, his arm around the other man’s shoulder in an attempt at silent comfort. His face was twisted into some kind of strange grimace, as though he wasn’t really sure what he was feeling or how he could express it on his newly returned human features. It was still strange to look at Logan and actually see the man instead of the dragon, his brain stuttering over the image each and every time. Almost as though he couldn’t quite believe it, as if he was waiting for the whole thing to turn out to be a dream. It was real though - he had the pain to prove it.

Roman had moved closer, a reassuring look on his handsome face, the smallest of nods to let him know that it was alright, that this was the right thing to do. Of course Roman would think that. He was a knight. It was the sort of thing he did, cut down the wicked and defeat them, kill them, to make sure that they couldn’t harm anyone else. Roman would support him completely if he executed her. Not only support, but approve, because it was the simplest, cleanest way to end a problem and she was a problem.

Not to mention, the Queen Mother would have executed Roman in front of her son despite the fact they seemed to be close friends. She would have murdered Logan in front of him without a second thought just to further her own selfish ends. After everything she had done, Virgil felt as though he was more than justified in ordering her death, if not for vengeance, then a desire for peace. For justice.

Alive, she would always pose a threat to his crown and his safety. Alive she would no doubt never stop scheming to try and regain her former influence, she would never cease her plotting to take over the kingdom once more. Alive, she would never stop trying to have those he loved harmed and killed in turn. Virgil knew all of this, knew what his heart and head both said, all speaking in agreement.

The logical, safe, right thing to do would be to have her executed. After all, she wouldn’t hesitate to have her enemies killed if the roles were reversed and she stood over him in triumph. She would have warped his mind and it would have been a living death.

This was his perfect chance to end it, once and for all.

Chapter Text

He was not the Queen Mother.

He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a disease or any of the lies she had tried to feed him within the dream world. He wasn’t a slave, chained to the memory and actions of what had once been, what she had tried to force upon him. So what as to what the Queen Mother would have done. Virgil was his own person and he was going to become his own kind of king. One that tried to do better than those that came before.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Virgil announced firmly.

He stood up straighter, letting his magic coil around him once more, feeling it build within him. Roman looked surprised by his words but somehow not disappointed, his face showing nothing but the faint surprise mingled with support and that gave Virgil the courage he needed to carry on. Roman would support his choice, even if it wasn’t something he would have picked himself. He might argue in private and Virgil had a feeling that was coming later but he would support him. With those hands granting him strength there was nothing he couldn’t do.

“I sentence you to imprisonment, to a tower where you will not be able to use your magic to escape. You may leave only when you have truly repented of your actions and wish to make amends, when the magic holding you, believes you. You can receive approved guests as often as you like.” Virgil paused for a moment to glance back at Patton again, giving him a soft, hopefully reassuring smile.

Patton smiled back, his eyes filled with unshed tears, hand having dropped from his mouth to find Logan’s own, squeezing it lightly. Virgil couldn’t help but feel a smile twitch on his lips at the sight and more importantly at seeing Logan give just the smallest of squeezes back. After everything that had happened, it was about time that they all got to taste some happiness. They had fought for this, bleed for it - in some cases literally - and Virgil was determined that they would have it.

Power burned in him, his magic begging to be released. He could feel it building and building, as though he might explode if it wasn’t let out. This was by far the most ambitious spell he had ever created and although it could only be half a spell with his will alone it should be enough to hold her until he could craft the perfect one in its place. Intent after all was everything and he couldn’t afford to get this wrong, not when everything about it hinged on the idea that she could only leave when she had truly repented of her ways.

Virgil pulled, feeling the currents in the air swirl and come towards him at his silent order. He could feel the magic now, not only his own but the magic that was in the air, the very stones around them. The whole world was magic if you stopped to think about it, to focus on it. And he was focusing on it now, using that connection to call all the many different strands of the universe together, to summon the energy he would need to cast such a spell.

He didn’t think of the crimes she had committed, or the myriad of ways in which she had hurt him. Nor did he think of how much pain she had caused for Logan or Roman. He didn’t think of the way she had condemned Logan to all those years inside a dragon form. He couldn’t. None of that was really important in this moment, none of that was what he needed to focus on if he wanted this to be all about her heart. What he thought about instead was the happiness she brought his father despite what came after. He thought of her scream of fear at the idea of her son being killed. He thought of the look on Patton’s face, the pleading eyes, the silent request not to do this. This was a chance for a new start and he couldn’t do that by bathing them all in blood.

Especially since Patton loved her. For all her faults, he loved her. It might not be healthy or even right but Virgil couldn’t deny his friend the right to love his mother. He couldn’t deny him the chance to try and save her. But he wouldn’t give her the chance to hurt any of them again. She deserved the chance to be redeemed only if it came with the certainty she couldn’t inflict further pain.

Head tilted back to look upwards, towards the hole that he had crashed through so long ago now. Above him, a couple of stars could be seen twinkling down at him, tiny little pinpricks of light. Virgil closed his eyes, still picturing those stars and the castle that was silhouetted through the gap.

His home. Finally, after all this time, he was home and he let the silhouette of the castle fill his mind, focusing his power towards it.

Magic whipped around him now, tugging at his clothes and hair, wisps of pale light flickering in and out of existence. Not that Virgil noticed the light display, hands lifting to twist this way and that, making the ribbons of colour dance to his will.

Everything built up around him, a resounding crescendo of force and light, Virgil aware as though from a great distance away that he was smiling. He could almost feel it on his face, and at the same time he felt far removed from the moment, caught in the eternity that was the world. This was it. Virgil clapped his hands together suddenly, the noise sounding deafeningly loud. The air around them seemed to shift forward at the contact, sucking in for a fraction of a second before rushing back, a blast of energy that rushed through everyone still standing in the room.

Lavender coloured smoke coiled up around the Queen Mother, enveloping her in the thick clouds in a matter of seconds. It curled ever upwards, shifting and twisting into a pillar of smoke before, quite simply, vanishing. Taking the Queen Mother with it, empty air filling the space where she had been kneeling only moments before. It was done.

Virgil wobbled, feeling his strength drain as quickly as it had arrived. Only then did he realise he had been floating a few inches off the ground, staggering back down to the ground with a startled yelp. He would have probably fallen flat on his face if it hadn’t been for Roman suddenly leaning in to catch him, strong arms catching around his waist and slowly turning him to face him. Virgil was more concerned with breathing, with struggling against a world that suddenly seemed harder than it should, than be concerned with where he was. Roman seemed to understand without words, just letting Virgil lean into him as he needed.

“Where did you send her?” Roman asked, when Virgil seemed capable to standing on his own. A hand lifted to brush a stray strand of hair away from Virgil’s face as he spoke. It was such a tiny little gesture, something so simple and yet it felt strangely intimate despite that, Virgil feeling a faint shiver run through him.

The small, almost lazy smile on Roman’s face didn’t help matters, Virgil feeling something new squirm in the back of his mind, a whisper that he wanted to be the one to inspire that smile on Roman’s face at all times. Tired eyes flickered back up to the hole for a moment, staring at the stars before looking back at his knight.

“Not far. Just to the tower up there for the moment. The magic is in place but I will need to cast it properly in the morning with the correct ingredients and then reinforce it now and then, to make sure she can’t trick it. Her heart has to be true. She will need to honestly want to be good if she ever plans to leave.”

“Do you think that's even possible?”

“Who knows Roman?” Virgil replied, tone as tired as the rest of him and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed and sleep for at least a week. Or more realistically, an hour if he was lucky. His gaze slipped past the knight to look back at Patton who was now leaning into Logan, the pair whispering quietly. “But maybe she’ll finally start listening to Patton and once she does that... well, if anyone can convince someone they are worthy of a second chance then its him.”

“True,” Roman replied after a beat. “But how will you make sure she is well guarded? Her magic will come back eventually.”

Virgil had not wanted to think about that. About the moment when she would feel strong and would fling her magic against his own in a bid to break free. He was fairly confident that his spells would hold for now, and that come the next few weeks when he could reinforce it with all his magic and with the help of other magic users that could be trusted, they could weave a net strong enough she couldn’t trick her way out of. But that was later. There was still the responsible, sensible thing to do, he had to take every precaution because the idea of her escaping to enact her revenge was a truly terrifying one.

There had to be more than magic at work here.

“Sir Bernard?” Virgil called softly, reluctantly untangling himself Roman, being prince over Virgil once more. The knight in question climbed the steps towards them, his eyes moving to the spot where the Queen had been for a moment before looking back at them

“Yes my lord?”

“You have served my family loyalty for many years, I know my father trusted you in a way he trusted nobody else,” Virgil began, feeling as though he had to chose each word with care. This was more than just giving an order. He didn’t want this to be something forced. “Can I call upon your service again? Will you guard the Queen Mother until the magic is complete and I can assign a series of guards to wait upon her? I know this is a lot to ask of you, but right now I can trust no one else. I do not know which of my knights are actually her creatures.”

That idea haunted him perhaps as much as the thought of her breaking free. He knew some would undoubtedly be hers and not his. It was only to be expected considering how long she had been in power and how little any of them would have known him. Those that were still loyal were loyal to his name, not to him and Virgil would have to prove himself to them as well as the doubters. The ones that openly admitted to that were the easy ones to deal with however. It was the ones who would pretend that worried Virgil, the ones who would creep and crawl, who would claim loyalty with one face and then plot his downfall with another.

He was going to have to be on his guard constantly and it was going to be exhausting.

“It would be my honour my lord,” Bernard replied, dipping into a deep bow and dragging Virgil away from such thoughts for the moment. So he would have to be on his guard. He wouldn’t be alone and with people like Bernard standing alongside Roman and the rest, he could root them out. Things were actually going to work out. Virgil wasn’t normally the optimistic sort, he was far more likely to look past a good event to where the bad was inevitably lurking but right now, flush with success he couldn’t help but feel as though everything was going to work out right.

“Good. Guard her well, but see that she has any comforts and luxuries she may desire. So long as they can’t be turned into some kind of weapon, any requests she has run them past me, I will make sure you get an answer back the same day. I will make sure you only have to handle this temporarily, after all Sir Bernard I hope you will do me the supreme honour of carrying my crown at my coronation.”

The knight blinked a couple of times, mouth dropping open as the words slowly sunk in. To carry the crown was something that was normally given to one of the highest in the land, a brother or family member. Not a mere knight, even if he had been close to the previous king. As much as Virgil didn’t want to think about it, he knew his coronation had to be performed as a matter of urgency, to set his stamp upon the kingdom and confer a lasting legitimacy upon him.

“Are... are you sure my Lord?” he stammered, the man not even bothering to hide his shock at such an idea. Virgil nodded once, expression set and firm.

“There is nobody else suited. It would be my privilege if you would honour me so. And if I may be so bold as to beg another favour? If I could be allowed your council from time to time? Help me be the right kind of king Sir Bernard.”

“By my honour,” he swore. The knight snapped to attention, giving him a sharp salute, the loyalty shining clearly in his eyes. The only way Virgil was going to earn trust was if he gave it back in kind and he trusted Sir Bernard, respected him. His father would have approved and that was enough for Virgil right now.

A soft cough drew his attention away from matters of state and back to Patton, who had moved closer, tugging Logan with him. Relief was written large on his features and it made Virgil feel warm to know he had played a part in putting it there. He had worried a little that Patton might hate him for running away for so long. He had been terrified really that he would lose the bond they had, or that they would be forced to marry despite the feelings they shared being strictly platonic. He had worried about Patton almost as much as he had worried about losing to the Queen Mother.

Now he realised how stupid such thoughts were. As if Patton would have ever been like that to him. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body and Virgil felt almost unworthy of the friendship so freely offered, when Virgil had done nothing but doubt it in turn. Patton grinned, pleased with his new audience and slowly tilted his head up to look at Logan, mischief shining in his eyes. Something was going to happen, something that Patton wanted them to see and he felt anticipation uncoil in the pit of his stomach.

Unlike normally however, it felt like a good type of anticipation, when you were waiting for something exciting rather than waiting for and expecting your own execution. Virgil rested his head against Roman’s chest, listening to the reassuring heartbeat, letting the steady repetitive noise keep him calm, somewhere between anticipation and dread anxiety.

“Hey Logan, will you be my date at the coronation?” Patton asked softly, face a picture of innocence.

Logan’s cheeks turned a rather impressive shade of red, the colour staining his skin delicately as he made a few sputtering sounds in lieu of an actual answer. Throughout it all, Patton simply stared coyly at him, as though he had no idea what was causing such a reaction. It was too innocent, even for Patton and Virgil felt pride blossom at knowing there was a devious side to him after all. That promised endless entertainment, especially if the outcome was to see Logan at a loss for words as he was right now. In fact, Virgil couldn’t recall ever seeing Logan so flustered, as a man or a dragon. He rather felt as though he would like to see this happen again and again

“I can’t... I. I’m just a servant Patton, I lack the funds and title necessary to even think about courting you!” Logan finally stuttered out, and wow.

That was a lame excuse even by Virgil’s own standards and he had once told someone he couldn’t go to a court function because he had broken his leg. While standing directly in front of said person on two perfectly fine and unbroken legs, maintaining unblinking eye contact the whole time.

Surely he couldn’t think any of them would be so shallow as to care about money or a name? It wasn’t as though they would need either of those things anyway.

Patton giggled, something light and musical, as if he was merely amused instead of hurt by the apparent rejection.

“Logan. We just shared a True Love kiss. I think that's a couple of steps beyond courting don’t you? But we can go back to the start and do it all over if you like. Whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

“I... I...” Logan began, looking a little lost as though the idea that Patton might want him back had never seriously occurred to him, as if he had never taken a moment to consider what the kiss had actually meant. Knowing Logan, he probably hadn’t because True Love magic didn’t follow the same kind of rules that other magic did, it was based so strongly on emotions, on something so ill defined as that. There was no logic, no reason to it and it probably deeply annoyed Logan, to know he had been saved by such a thing.

“Plus, plus, plus,” Virgil butted in, feeling a mischievous expression of his own grow on his face at the thought of helping in his own little way. “You’re kinda promoted to my Chief Advisor and head of my council which is a pretty prestigious role in its own right. More than status enough to woo my brother when you think about it.”

“Awww, you think of me as your brother?” Patton asked, almost bouncing on his heels a little at the thought. He had no right looking that adorable and ruining Virgil’s attempt at being an annoying friend. Even if he was excited at such a thought and he hadn’t expected Patton to be that delighted at such a statement.

“Well yeah,” Virgil admitted, feeling his own cheeks heat up a little and no, they were supposed to be focused on making Logan embarrassed and in tune with his own feelings, not turning the tables on Virgil and yet here they were. With Patton looking at him as though he was something wonderful, as if he had just told him he could have every single fluffy pet in the world. It made Virgil want to go further, to admit the truth as he mumbled once more. “I love you Pat.”

“I love you too kiddo!” Patton exclaimed, his smile somehow, impossibly, becoming brighter, almost blindingly so. If love was something physical, then it was this smile, the acceptance of everything, the way in which Patton didn’t demand or put limits or conditions on his love. It simply was and Virgil felt himself adore his brother a little more for that alone.

“See Logan? Virgil approves and if we cared about such things I don’t think we could get much better than best friend, brother and ruler supporting our courtship,” Patton explained, still smiling that life giving smile and to him it was no doubt that simple. Virgil knew Logan however, knew that he would need more than just emotional hope. It was a strange mix, the two of them, one so caught up in facts and the other relying on instinct to get him through life but he knew the two of them would help each other and hopefully grow as a result.

Right now however, it was up to Virgil to help them, to actually be a true friend to them both instead of just teasing them. He was still going to that of course, he was Patton’s brother and that practically came with the job after all. He felt happy, and wanted them to be happy too.

“And if you’re worried about money, I’m fairly sure there is a dragon’s hoard somewhere out there that only about three people know the location of... whoever finds it gets to claim it and as your new King, I give you permission to do just that.”

“You're not King yet,” Logan protested automatically. Virgil rolled his eyes at the response, Roman giving a soft chuckle, the chest he was resting on rising up and down with the sound. He could certainly get used to resting his head on Roman, his mind skipping away from the conversation for a moment to imagine how it would feel lying down, using him as a pillow, thoughts becoming increasingly giddy at the idea of just being held by him, falling asleep in his arms and waking up beside him. For a night and for forever.

Not that they had talked about any of that yet. Yeah, they really needed to do that, before his brain got too far ahead of itself and imagined goodness knows what else. He lifted a hand dismissively, waving it vaguely in Logan’s direction.

“Fine, fine, Crown Prince, soon to be King. Don't force me into the vulgarity of having to repeat myself but this time as a direct order. You will see to that treasure correct?”

Logan made another noise in the back of his throat, something that was equal parts frustration and embarrassment as he stood there, eyes flickering between Virgil and Patton. He sighed, noise more akin to a huff than anything else, lifting a hand to carefully adjust his glasses.

“You. Are impossible,” he told Virgil at last, having the good sense to at least know when he was beaten. Patton gave a soft squeal of delight at the words, hearing everything that was not said in them, everything Logan was admitting to in those three little words. Not the three little words Patton was probably hoping he would say, but Virgil was confident they would get there one day.

“But you love me all the same,” Virgil replied glibly.

“For some strange reason, I do.” Logan was smiling as he spoke, a faint twitch of a smile but a smile all the same. His words were lacking any real bite, not that Virgil would have taken any notice of them even if they had. He knew Logan better than that. The man in question cleared his throat before returning his attention to Patton, each word clearly rehearsed for a few seconds in his mind.

“I accept. I would enjoy being your date to the coronation Patton and hope you will allow me to court you in the manner in which your rank requires. You deserve the best.”

“Whatever pace you want Logan,” Patton repeated, words pitched low and reassuring. His smile had softened as well, but it was just as genuine and loving as before. Logan blushed again, a darker pink dusting his cheeks.

“I... thank you Patton.”

This was sweet and it was going to give Virgil tooth decay if he watched much more of it. They certainly deserved it and more, but still he needed to move on from this and focus on something that wouldn’t make him cry even if they were tears of joy. Not least because he had some hopefully sweet moments of his own to come - although that would make him cry.

“I hope you and Patton will both play leading roles in my coronation as well. I need someone to carry my sword, and another the ring. Who better than my brother and best friend?” Virgil asked after a little pause, Logan giving him a little nod of agreement in return, Patton merely grinning. That sorted that at least, and left him just with Roman, with the man he had been leaning against all this time.

With a soft sigh, Virgil forced himself to move, to take a step back and out of the embrace and all the easy comfort it provided. As much as he wanted to just sink into that hold and never let go, he knew they needed to...talk. The dreaded word. But it had to be done and the sooner the better.

Hopefully he wouldn’t mess this up.

Chapter Text

“Wait a moment Virgil.” Logan disentangled himself awkwardly from Patton, one hand lifting to pat against Patton’s shoulder clumsily, trying to communicate something through touch. It was clearly not a language that Logan was very good at - not least because he had spent the last several years as a Dragon and a pat on the shoulder would have been more claws through skin. He didn’t know his own strength, Patton bending over a little against the movement as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Patton smiled fondly at the other man nevertheless as he stood up straight a mere second later, hand lifting to brush lightly against Logan’s arm as he moved past him, as though to reassure him that he was still here.

Virgil couldn’t help but notice the slight little shiver that ran through Logan’s body at the touch or the way he paused for a second, a dusting of red colouring his cheeks for the briefest pause before he gave a little cough and started to move once more, heading towards Virgil. Who tilted his head up to look back at Roman and the less than happy expression at this interruption.

“Virgil, may I have a word... alone?” Logan looked solemn as he spoke. Then again, Logan always looked serious and it was impossible to really know what he wanted. If Logan had still been in dragon form Virgil probably would have known exactly what he wanted, because that strange world had been his reality for years and he wasn’t sure how to really handle all the changes that were coming thick and fast upon him. Virgil had disliked change at the best of times, but this was a whole new world.

He was so used to reading a dragon’s face for clues. Even though Virgil was beyond delighted that Logan was human, he didn’t know how to handle dealing with a human Logan, he couldn’t remember any of his tells, any of the visual signs for how Logan was feeling. He didn’t know how to read him and if he couldn’t do that, how was he supposed to help him?

“Go ahead,” Roman mumbled with a soft sigh and resigned wave of his hand towards Logan. “I’ll still be here when you have finished your conversation.”

“You better be,” Virgil whispered fiercely. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Roman’s smile brightened at that, snapping to attention and giving him a sharp salute. It was ridiculous and pointless and over the top. It was so very his knight. It also did funny things to Virgil’s stomach, making it leap and twist inside of him, dancing with his heart that was also betraying him with strange moments. For a moment, it even felt as though the organ might actually rip itself out of him in the frenzy of movement. Which was an unpleasant image but one he couldn’t shake now that his mind had seen fit to bless him with.

With a shake of his head, Virgil turned from Roman, letting Logan lead him across the platform to the other side of it. Now that the shield had dropped down around them, Virgil could see all around the grand hall and the people still clustered in tiny groups near the entrance. More were slowly filtering in, soldiers mostly. None of them seemed brave enough to actually come any closer which meant that Virgil could put off worrying about them for another few moments.

God, he was going to have to give a speech to them sooner rather than later, the thought making him feel slightly nauseous. Virgil tried to focus on Logan instead, wanting to enjoy every second of their victory, of Logan being himself again, rather than all the stress and agony that was still to come.

Virgil couldn’t help but notice that his friend’s movements were still unsteady, each step almost over exaggerated, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to move like a human again. Logan was going to have to relearn how to do almost everything, a daunting challenge but one that Virgil hoped he would be up to. He would be surrounded by his friends every step of the way and Virgil would do whatever he could to help.

Logan lifted a hand to his hair, messing already ruffled hair even more. It looked as though he had spent every spare second since becoming human playing with it, and looking back to this moment, Logan would no doubt be embarrassed to have been seen in a less than perfect state.

“Virgil, are you sure about this?” Logan asked.

“Um... you’re going to have to be clearer Logan... sure about what? I’ve done a lot of crazy stuff in the last ten minutes that I’m really trying hard not to think too deeply on right now because I’m not sure my heart can take it, it really hurts from how hard its been working lately. This is a super stressful day and I have so much more to do.”

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, as though he could somehow block the list of what was still left to do from his mind. In the darkness, it only made the thoughts scream that much louder without anything else to distract him from them, eyes snapping back open a second later and he was hanging by a thread here, fuelled by the rush of adrenaline from the fight and knowing that they had - in theory - won the war.

“Are you sure... about me?” Logan said at last, looking distinctly uncomfortable now. “While I was not in full control by the end, I was still a dragon. I kept you prisoner and I... I... I killed many of your knights. I am no innocent and I do not know if I can offer you the advice and help you will need as King. Are you sure or is this some... pity appointment?”

Virgil’s mouth dropped open in shock and out of everything that he could have imagined Logan might have doubts about, it was never himself. There were so many other questionable choices he had made recently, from his choice with the Queen Mother - and really, Virgil should have spoken to Logan about that if nobody else. She had done so much to them all but her worst crimes had to be the curse she had placed upon his friend and yet he hadn’t bothered to ask him what he thought Virgil should do with her.

What was the point in wanting to have advisers if he didn’t even ask them for their advice? He needed to do better and when things were less insane, he would have to have a long talk with him and work out what they needed to do going forward. First though, he had to reassure his friend, which was by far the most important thing.

Logan was still playing with his shirt, his fingers constantly in motion. It wasn’t fair that after everything they had struggled with together, Logan would be left feeling so unsure of his place in Virgil’s world.

“You’re the only thing in my life that I am sure about Logan,” Virgil told him seriously, forcing himself to look at him straight in the eye, hoping that Logan would be able to see the honesty there. There was still doubt in his friend’s gaze as he looked back, showing that he wasn’t communicating his feelings as well as he hoped.

Which meant he was going to have to put all of his cards on the table so to speak. Virgil bit at his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for a moment as he considered his words carefully, picking each one with care.

“Even Roman... I hope to be sure about him, but I don’t know yet. What I have with him is new and still so fragile. Its dreams and dew on the morning grass and it could be crushed as easily as that. It isn’t built on the same foundations as it is with you. You are my best friend Logan and no matter what happens, I can’t see a future without you right there beside me.”

“Well... that is very good to hear Virgil,” Logan told him awkwardly, offering him a smile that finally felt a little less stiff and awkward than before. It made him feel bold, brave. Strong enough to keep being honest, Virgil risking a glance behind him for a moment. Patton and Roman were chatting quietly, the other prince beaming and bouncing a little on his heels as they talked about whatever it was they were actually discussing.

Patton seemed to have bounced back from everything rather quickly and although Virgil doubted it was as simple as that, he had to admire Patton’s bravery, his resilience. To even smile at all for more than a moment was an act of strength, spoke of a strong character and Virgil never failed to be impressed by how strong Patton really was. People underestimated him at their peril, yet they did it time and time again. He would be good for Logan and vice versa.

Attention focused on Roman, on the smile that curled on those impossibly perfect, kissable lips as he listened to Patton. It was always easier to smile at Patton, there was just something about him that made you want to. Even when Virgil had been so young and grieving for his father, Patton had been able to make him smile.

There were times when he almost wished he could have loved Patton in the way the world had expected him to - but no. His love was still real, was as deep as a romantic love and just as powerful. It was better this way, and Virgil was so blessed to have three people to love. Well... he hoped he had three. He knew he had two, but there was still the third.

Virgil still needed to talk to Roman, needed to explain his actions and hopefully gain his heart's desire. There was just one tiny problem with that - he wasn’t sure what he was going to say or how to explain the storm of feelings that were raging inside of his heart.

“I have no idea what I’m doing Logan.” Virgil could feel his heart start to pound as he made that confession, the moment of softness lost as he was struck anew by the enormity of his task. Not just Roman, but everything else, he had a whole kingdom to somehow become worthy of and although he still believed he could do it with the three of them by his side, Virgil just wasn’t sure what first step he was meant to take. On anything.

“Virgil...” Logan trailed off, fingers twisting with the hem of his slightly ripped shirt and Virgil really needed to get him some better clothes. He didn’t want Logan to ever want or need anything material, ever again. “To be completely honest... neither do I.”

Virgil froze.

“What?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing Virgil! I have no idea what I’m doing with Patton, how to make him happy. I have no idea how to be the sort of advisor that you deserve, how to give the advice that you will listen to and have it aid the people correctly. I don’t even know how to get by in the ranks of nobility without them and therefore you and Patton realising just what a fraud I actually am.”

Virgil couldn’t help but giggle at that, hand lifting to slap over his mouth as though that could somehow stop the noise was bubbling free. It stifled the sound true, but the giggles were still audible, his eyes crinkling up in the corner as he let himself feel the giddy release the giggles brought on.

“It isn’t funny Virgil,” Logan snapped, a wounded expression on his face. Virgil lifted a hand to wave it vaguely in his direction, his giggles still filling the air around them. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Patton and Roman turn to look at them and maybe it was imagination, but he could have sworn that Roman’s smile became softer, sweeter as he looked at him. Virgil could feel his cheeks growing warmer in turn and no doubt he was blushing like a moron. Simply because Roman was looking in his direction and it was almost intolerable, how a mere look could have such an effect on him.

Logan gave a huff, the noise dragging Virgil away from Roman and oh yes, he hadn’t actually explained why he had been laughing. He didn’t want Logan to think he had been laughing at him or his worries. Virgil stepped closer, and his best friend needed him right now. Virgil couldn’t afford to get sidetracked.

“No, no it is. Because I was freaking out at not knowing how I was supposed to be a king, how to make all the right choices... and you’re the same. I bet Patton and Roman are just as confused and as lost as we are. What a group we must make,” Virgil explained.

“How is any of that funny? I still fail to see the joke Virgil.” Logan almost looked a little frustrated now, that emotion overwhelming any hurt he had - not - felt, because of course he would deny feeling anything like that. He still didn’t get it, possibly because it was emotional based and so something he wasn’t an expert in.

“Because we’re all the same,” Virgil repeated. Logan still didn’t look convinced and so he pressed on. “I bet you almost anything Logan, that they both secretly worry that they don’t know what they are doing and they are counting on the fact that someone else does. We are all in this together and the fact that none of us know anything? Somehow... somehow that makes me feel relieved. Because we’re going to learn and move forward, together.”

“I... think I understand. You do not feel the same burden or impression of being a fraud because we are all lost in the dark together.”

“More than that Logan. We are all going to find our way out into the light together,” Virgil promised. Logan blinked a couple of times, considering the words carefully. He held his breath as he waited, hoping that Logan would see the logic in what he had said, that it was better they all start out the same because they could each help the other and would all grow stronger. Together.

Logan surged forward, arms suddenly wrapping themselves around Virgil in a frantic and slightly clumsy hug. It was as though he had somehow grown several more arms in the time it took him to take the two steps needed to close the distance between them. It was so sudden and so very unlike Logan - and Virgil loved it because for the first time Logan was able to hug him. When he had been trapped in his dragon form it had always been Virgil who had hugged, clinging on to part of his large form and trying to express his love as best he could. It had never been a proper hug and it had never felt as amazing as this one did.

Now Logan could return the gesture whenever he wanted and it seemed as if that time was right now. Virgil relaxed into the hug seconds later, arms lifting to hug him back, fingers curling in the back of his shirt as he hug on grimly.

“Thank you for being my friend Virgil,” Logan whispered, his words hot against Virgil’s ear. Virgil blinked a couple of times, trying to will the sudden heat and wetness away from them.

“No Logan, thank you.” Virgil smiled as he spoke, reluctantly disentangling himself from the hug as he felt Logan stiffen, hinting at his growing discomfort for such a prolonged display of emotion and Virgil wasn't going to do anything that made his friend uncomfortable.

If Logan’s eyes were a little wet when he finally caught sight of them, then Virgil didn’t say anything. It would only embarrass his friend after all.

“Let’s go back to our boys,” Virgil suggested softly.

“Indeed. I shudder to think what trouble they might get into without us there to restrain their more... over the top antics,” Logan replied, without a trace of irony. As though the other two were the only ones capable of ridiculous, over the top actions. Neither of them had smashed through the same roof in the same place, on two separate occasions.

But then they had all - somehow - journeyed into a waking dream, despite the huge risks. They had fought in the name of love and had come out on top. That was worth something.

“They managed pretty well for years,” Virgil countered, nudging Logan’s shoulder with his own in a friendly manner and all jokes aside, he would be more than happy if none of them ever did anything dramatic or dangerous again.

“It ended with Patton inspiring Roman to ride off an fight a dragon, I am not so sure they did manage.”

“Let’s be honest Logan, I doubt Patton had to do much inspiring. If anything, he probably spent most of the time trying to talk down my favourite lunatic from running off on other madcap schemes. And at the end of the day, aren't we lucky that he was crazy enough to hunt us down?” Virgil asked, his tone light and teasing. Roman was pretty much his favourite everything, lunatic included.

“We can hear you,” Roman told them from across the platform.

“I know,” Virgil replied, giving Logan a last, fond look before focusing his attention back on Roman and possibly the most nerve wracking thing he had to do all day. After everything that had happened to them, after everything he had done and every battle they had already fought, this was still the most nerve wracking moment of all because he was putting more than just his life on the line. He was putting his heart on show, was risking his feelings, his soft underbelly, all for Roman.

He took a deep breath and tried to tell himself that he could do this. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Logan peel away, drawn back to Patton even as Roman took a few steps to the side to give the newly established couple a slight degree of privacy. It took him closer to Virgil as a result, close enough that Virgil could take in every little detail of the other man. Close and yet he wanted him that much closer, wanted to hold onto him and never have to let him go again.

All that was left was the asking. The explaining. He just hoped that Roman would be willing to listen and of course, that he agreed. He prayed to every God he had ever read about that the answer he was about to get would be a good one - even to the ones long forgotten by most folk, dusty relics of a past lost to all but a few.

“Now. As for you, Sir Roman...” Virgil trailed off, eyeing the knight in question carefully. There was a faint pout on the other man’s face, something almost non existence unless you were looking for it - and Virgil had been looking for it. He had made Roman sweat by making him wait, by talking to Logan and by arranging his coronation. And now he was making him wait an extra few seconds just so Virgil could enjoy the view. But what a view.

There were three roles of prestige in a coronation, the ones who held sword, ring and crown, roles that Virgil had already given out. Apparently leaving nothing of importance for Roman to do.

He couldn’t help the slightly wicked smirk that appeared, because while that might seem at first glance to be the case, Virgil knew otherwise. There was still one role, possibly the most important of all to him and it was something that Roman, and Roman alone was capable of filling. If he said yes of course. Something that was probably more likely to happen if Virgil stopped teasing him with the implication that he had got anything to do in the new world order that was being built.

His tiny pout was just too irresistible though, too tempting a target for Virgil not to want to get his own back. Just a little. Just to make him pay for all the terror he had put Virgil through in rushing off to try and be a hero all on his own. Just because that was the sort of person he was, for good and for bad and it was best that Roman know this, that he walked into the future with both eyes wide open. Virgil couldn’t pretend to be something he wasn't, not anymore.

He would make it up to Roman. In so many ways.

“I was hoping you could play a role in my coronation as well,” Virgil murmured softly, taking that single step back into Roman’s personal space, so close he could touch one more. He had tried to step away to give himself some clarity of thought, to be able to focus on the matter at hand but Virgil had felt cold without his embrace, the sort of cold that he wasn’t ready to go back to. Not yet anyway, not when Roman was right there. There would be plenty of times to come when he would have to be alone, so why hurt himself unnecessary now when every part of him just wanted to sink into Roman’s embrace and let himself finally feel?

Virgil’s eyes dipped a little lower, his hands brushing over the no longer perfectly crisp white tunic. It was a little creased and wrinkled in places, faint reddish stains on the left sleeve that he was taking great care not to look at or think about in any detail. He didn’t want to think about whose blood that was, because any of the possible answers were upsetting. From the corner of his eye he could see the subtle pout shift into something happy, almost preening at the contact, the gentle touches clearly making him happy. Wasn’t that really what wanted, at the end of the day, as sappy as it sounded? To make Roman happy?

He really needed Roman out of those clothes. Not like that. Changed. He needed to get him changed, Virgil forcing himself to focus on the moment and not what Roman might look like without a top, what he might look like under all those layers. He had muscles, Virgil knew that, had seen it in his fighting and the way he moved. Pretty, pretty muscles no doubt, the type he wanted to tou- he had to stop thinking like that. He couldn’t allow himself to imagine Roman smiling, maybe freshly out of the pool, a towel wrapped around his lower half, beads of water glistening against tanned and well defined muscle and skin and oh, he had it bad for the knight. Which, to be fair, he had long since realised but it still managed to hit him anew every now and then, managed to take his breath away at the thought of just how pretty and tempting Sir Roman really was.

Virgil could feel the blush colouring his cheeks, and it felt as if he had done nothing but tease or blush in turn ever since the Queen Mother had been defeated. It wasn’t an altogether terrible state of affairs he supposed. It felt... good, to be happy at last. Sappiness notwithstanding.

“Oh? What role might that be, my prince?” Roman whispered, voice husky low and that really shouldn’t be allowed, it completely derailed the tenuous thought carriage that Virgil had managed to summon.

“Hmm, I like it when you call me, my prince,” he replied, giving up for a second on reaching the next stop in his thoughts. Not when he had this far more entertaining and important notion to consider, something that sent waves of giddy pleasure crashing through him. He was Roman’s prince. He was Roman’s.

“Focus Virgil,” Roman cautioned, although that happy expression was still there, something just simply Roman, simply bliss and pleasure at being close to his prince. “How can I help you in your coronation?”

Oh. Yes. The coronation. Being Roman’s. The hope that Roman might be his in turn. Which meant he had to ask his very important question, Virgil swallowing a couple of times, nerves suddenly rising in his mind. Because that wasn't going to change. No matter what happened, no matter how Roman actually answered, Virgil was always going to be his. It was both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measures.

“I was hoping you could.... Sit on your own throne, beside me for it,” he asked at last, eyes fixed firmly on the white tunic and not Roman’s face. He might have been able - in the end - to face down dragons, Queen Mothers and Logan’s own self doubt about his worth but none of that was as scary as having to deal with his own. Or the fact he had basically just asked Roman to marry him.

The knight gave a sharp intake of breath, Virgil repressing the flinch that wanted to run through him at the fact that Roman hadn’t actually said anything. The silence between them stretched out, an agonisingly long pause between words and Virgil wasn’t sure if he had been staring at Roman’s chest and feeling tears gather in his eyes for mere seconds, or minutes.

This was a bad idea. A dumb, dumb idea, what had Virgil been thinking? Too cowardly to just ask Roman as he should, as he deserved, down on one knee and with a ring - oh, he was going to have to find a ring. He was going to have to do this again, properly. If Roman said yes the first time of course.

What if Roman didn’t understand what he was actually asking? Worse, what if he did?

At the end of the day they had only actually spent a single week in each others company. It had been enough for Virgil of course, enough for him to realise he loved Roman and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him but what if after every crazy thing that had just happened, the knight had decided that he didn’t want the same?

A week wasn’t really such a long time to learn about another, not in the grand scheme of things. It was more than he would have gotten if it had been an arranged married. He might have grown to love Patton but the two of them had barely spent any time together, just long enough to care platonically. Even that had been unusual, simply because of who Patton’s mother had been. If his father had betrothed him to a prince or princess from another kingdom he might not have even met his future partner until they were standing at the altar.

Instead he had chosen a knight who still hadn’t said anything.

At this rate, Virgil was almost hoping he would say no because at least then he would know. At least he could retreat and lick his wounds and pretend that his heart wasn’t breaking over and over, each ticking second an eternity of pain.

Roman’s hand lifted, cool fingers bushing against Virgil’s cheek and then down to his chin, gently nudging his head up, coaxing him to meet his gaze. He didn’t want to but then again he had never really been able to refuse Roman anything. Even at his worse, he had to let him see what he wanted, Virgil feeling the tears threaten to actually spill out and down his cheeks. Just when he thought he had plunged as low as he could, he managed to find a deeper hole to dip into. All his doubts were no doubt written clearly on his face, the pain and fear because Roman had always known how to read him, right from their very first meeting.

“Are you... asking me to be your...” Roman asked slowly, expression strangely neutral.

“No!” Virgil blurted out suddenly, humiliation coursing through him. He closed his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath and feeling the tears that had hung for so long slip free at the motion, tracking down his cheeks and god, what had he just said? It was beyond cowardly, how could he have asked and then backtracked? He couldn’t do that to Roman.

“Maybe,” he amended, biting at his bottom lip nervously. Maybe was just as bad as no, and what was wrong with him? Virgil knew what he wanted, and it wasn't a maybe. It was to have Roman by his side always, it was to be in his arms at night and have him supporting him during the day. To have his prince beside the king he had to become.

Virgil fidgeted a little as the silence continued without any input from the knight. His eyes opened once more, dipping and then rising back to look at Roman and he could do this. He had to do this. Virgil could be brave one final time for love.

“Will you?” Virgil asked softly, a fresh set of tears brimming dangerously in his eyes. This was so stupid, to cry when he wasn't even sad, not yet. He was just... well, he just was. He stood there and asked without the right words, feeling as though the whole world was balanced on a knife edge and the slightest little tilt would send everything crashing down. It still remained to be seen if it would fall on the good or bad side of things.

Roman brushed his fingers against Virgil’s cheek, catching the tears and flicking them away carefully. So carefully, as if he was something precious in his own right and somehow, without words, he was reminded of the moment within the dream world when Roman had reaffirmed his love for him. Hope burned within him. A dangerous flame of hope but Virgil couldn't bring himself to let it be extinguished, not with Roman looking at him as he was.

He was looking as though Virgil was special, beautiful, staring down at him as though everything he cared about, everything that was important was right there. Roman leaned closer, Virgil transfixed, eyes red ringed and wide, barely daring to breathe in case the moment was lost. Closer and closer Roman came, Virgil still waiting for him to talk, to say something and - oh.

Oh, they were kissing.

Virgil felt himself melt into the touch, all the negative thoughts fading away along with his fears, his doubts because this was perfection. He had thought the previous kisses they had shared had been special, had been the sort he would remember forever. And they were. But this one... this one spoke of familiarity. It was a promise wrapped inside of a kiss, of some blissful future where this could be the norm and where he felt as though he could survive on kisses alone.

It felt as though it ended far too soon, Roman pulling back a little and belatedly, Virgil became aware of other feelings. The touch of his hand in his hair or how Virgil’s own fingers had bunched up in Roman's tunic, almost clinging to him. The kiss was over and there hadn't been an answer. He should pull away. He should demand Roman say something. He should do something, anything in turn. Virgil simply stood there, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

“Virgil?” Roman whispered softly, his name a clear question, a request to look at him once more.

Even then, Virgil couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and shatter the spell that had woven itself around them. Roman still hadn't answered by word and once he opened his eyes, he would be back in that reality again. Fear was stronger than the desire to look at Roman, not when this could be his last moment with him.

The sigh was soft, a silken brush of warm air against his lips. Now, more than ever, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and see the world for what it truly was. He just wanted one more moment like this. And then another one. And another.

“Okay,” Roman told him gently, Virgil tensing despite himself, uncertain of what that meant. He didn't have long to wait to find out.

Roman traced a series of feather light kisses up Virgil's jaw, barely there touches that had Virgil making soft little gasps, and faint little moans that he would deny to his dying death he had ever made. There was nothing he could do but surrender to the myriad of sensations that swirled around him, somehow feeling more intense because his eyes were closed.

Gradually, Roman worked higher and higher, taking his time with each soft little kiss. Each one felt like a step, a journey and it wasn't until he was kissing ever so gently at the edge of his earlobe that Virgil realised there had been a real purpose, a destination. Roman laughed, the quietest of laughs, a little puff of air against his ear as he pressed as close it felt as he could.

Voice was low, so quiet, the words for him alone and even then, Virgil could only hear them because they were whispered directly into his ear.

“Yes. I will marry you.”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open, growing wide as he stared into Roman’s own, his breath caught in his throat. Despite all his hope, all the possibilities, he had been building himself up to a no, to rejection because most of his life had felt like nothing but that. Always reaching for that elusive target but never quite hitting it, never able to get the person to agree to what he wanted. And Virgil knew he hadn’t magically gotten better at talking to people - if anything, he would have gotten worse at it out of lack of practise.

Roman had said yes?

“Wait... really?” Virgil asked, still staring wide eyed at the knight in front of him. Had he imagined that yes?

“Really, really,” Roman promised, a warm smile on his face. Virgil grinned back, the last vestiges of stress fading away as he realised that he hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t dreamed it. He had - sort of - asked Roman to marry him and more importantly, Roman had said yes. The world really was alive with the sound of music and everything good about the world.

This time for real, nothing could ruin this moment.

Nothing did.

Roman took his hand, gently lifting it to brush another kiss against his knuckles before tugging him closer, filling the tiny space that existed between them. Virgil hardly dared to breathe, simply staring up at Roman, at his sun and stars, letting him lean closer and closer until, once again, they were kissing. They were kissing and it was as magical as the first time or the second time they had kissed. It was as wonderful as any moment they had kissed which made him hope they would all be this good.

Behind him, Patton squealed with joy, Virgil too lost in the flush of love and relief to really take much notice, to realise that they had an audience now, a smattering of guards and noblemen at the bottom of the steps, all breaking out into applause as the Prince and his Knight-Fiance pulled apart to gaze into each other's eyes before leaning in for another kiss.

And they lived - happily for the most part - ever after.