Actions

Work Header

nobody knows they're dying til they're buried in the ground

Summary:

“You’re far from home, knight,” says a voice from above him. Ren hadn’t heard of anything living here except the dragon—there shouldn’t be any humanoids at all. What manner of creature can this be to speak to him?

It doesn't matter. Ren isn't intimidated by monsters or men, or anything in between. He grits his teeth.

“Unhand me,” Ren replies. The creature behind him laughs.

“I don’t see why I should. Didn’t you come here to slay me?”

Notes:

I saw this art by elven-kisses and became possessed for roughly four hours today.

Title is from Clarice by PHABIES.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The dark that permeates the lair of the ice dragon is almost tangible, a heavy presence on Ren’s already weighted shoulders. His torch cuts through the blackness to illuminate his way, but it’s so thick that Ren wonders if the light does anything at all. 

Ren is a knight, the latest in a long, honored line of valiant dragon slayers. The people of his home respect him, trust him, call on him with the certainty their wishes will be granted. He’s slain evil men and powerful monsters, kept a nightly watch over his town. Ren has hardly had a moment to rest in years, but he's done his work gladly, his home’s one and only beloved protector. 

So when a dragon appears and runs off with one of their sheep, it’s Ren the townspeople call upon to save them and their homes. And it’s Ren who goes alone, entering the dragon’s lair as the sun reaches down toward the horizon. 

The cave is cold, even more frigid than the underground is supposed to be. Ren is dressed warmly under his armor, but even he’s beginning to shiver. His armor rattles quietly, but the sound echoes through the silent cave like thunder. Not that Ren’s approach would be quiet anyway—every step of metal plating on stone resounds in the empty space, and Ren is sure the dragon must know he’s coming. 

The deeper Ren heads into the cave, the colder it becomes. His breath comes out white, swirling in front of his face. 

There's no sign of the dragon beyond the frigid temperature. Ren expects to see something—a bloody carcass, shed scales, claw marks, or even the beast itself. He finds no trace of anything, and it sets him on edge. He doesn't even hear it, not even with his doglike ears, and that unsettles him even more. He has no idea where in the cave it lives, which of the many branching paths it might have gone down. 

He picks one path—picks the wrong path—and something strikes. 

The only warning that Ren gets is that the steadily dropping temperature of the cave suddenly plummets to an unbearable level.

Something heavy slams against Ren’s back. The sudden weight forces Ren's torch out of his hand, and it clatters against stone, cutting the already dim light to show Ren nothing at all except his own white breathing, the hitch of his breath visible in the air. Thick arms wrap around Ren’s shoulders—one lays claim over his chest, pinning him to a mass behind him. The other holds claws at his throat, though whatever it is, it doesn't cut him open yet. 

“You’re far from home, knight,” says a voice from above him. Ren hadn’t heard of anything living here except the dragon—there shouldn’t be any humanoids at all. What manner of creature can this be to speak to him? 

It doesn't matter. Ren isn't intimidated by monsters or men, or anything in between. He grits his teeth. 

“Unhand me,” Ren replies. The creature behind him laughs. 

“I don’t see why I should. Didn’t you come here to slay me?” the creature asks. He hooks two claws under Ren’s armor, where a strip of metal protects Ren’s neck. He tears through it like paper, shredding Ren’s feeble protections from the creature that’s caught him. 

“No. I don’t know what you are. I’ve come here to slay the dragon,” Ren says, “But I’ll slay any foul beast which crosses my path!” 

“You have more bravery than you have brains,” the creature says. The metal below where he rests his arm rapidly grows colder, to the point it begins to burn Ren’s skin. He shudders, but at the first sign of movement, the creature again presses his claws against Ren’s throat. “Declaring your intent to kill me when I could kill you so easily?” 

“I have to protect my home from any threat. I won’t be cowed into backing down,” Ren says, “I am here to slay a dragon. Some second-rate beast could never scare me.”

“Again with that,” the creature says, “Do you know what your dragon looks like?” 

“I know only the glittering white scales of the dragon’s fleeing back,” Ren says. 

“So you did not see its face?” the creature asks. The hand pinning Ren’s chest leaves, allowing Ren some small escape from the mass behind him. It doesn’t vanish for long, as Ren feels claws against his armored back, searching for something. 

“No one did,” Ren says, “They say those in the sights of a dragon rarely survive before the terrible beast eats them.” 

“Is that so? And yet you still came to face it? Why?” the creature asks. He finds what he’s looking for—the ties fastening Ren’s armor. He cuts them as easily as he did the metal at Ren’s throat, and Ren’s chest plate hits the ground with a terrible blast. 

“What are you trying to do?!” Ren says. The creature laughs. 

“You’re in my home. It’s rude to come dressed so frightfully,” the creature says. He reaches down Ren’s left arm, cutting the ties keeping his bracers attached to his body. Each one falls with a loud bang, and Ren starts to wonder if the dragon will be attracted by the noise. “It will be much more difficult to slay the dragon without your armor to protect you.” 

“I will slay you first, and then I’ll slay the dragon,” Ren declares, and the creature laughs. He tightens his hold on Ren’s throat, pressing his claws into Ren’s skin. He doesn’t draw blood, but the pressure already stings. 

"I don't think you understand the position you're in," the creature says. 

"I understand enough," Ren says, "I need to slay you and slay the dragon. You won't stop me from that." 

“Go on, then,” he says, leaning down toward Ren’s ear. Ren's ear flicks against the cold air of the creature's breath, chilling fear rolling down Ren's spine. “Reach for your sword, brave knight. See if you can do it faster than I can rip your throat out.” 

Ren’s hand opens and closes above his sword, but when he moves toward it, the claws at his throw break skin. Two small punctures drip warm blood down his throat, and he…

...freezes.

Ren relents. 

Though Ren can’t see it, he knows the creature grins. 

“That’s what I thought,” the creature says, “You’re a guest in my home. Be good.” 

He reaches down again, trailing his claws down Ren’s right arm, slicing off his armor. When he reaches the sword at Ren’s belt, he grabs it, pulling it free. 

Ren’s sword is a large, two-handed weapon, passed through his family for centuries, though one would never know from looking at it. The flat blade is flawless, a shining mirror from guard to point. 

It is this that the creature holds up in front of them, finally allowing Ren to see his captor’s face. 

The creature above him is a full head taller than him, with gnarled blue horns at the top of his head. When he grins, his teeth are sharp and his eyes are sharper, a blue so bright as to be almost white. There runs a deep blue line down his face, from his eye to his jaw, and in the flickering of torchlight it almost appears to flow like a river. 

These are not the details which most draw Ren’s attention. What stops Ren’s heart is the scales. 

The creature above him is covered in scales. Patches of them cluster at the edge of his face, crawl up and down the hand and arm poised at Ren’s throat. They crawl up his shoulders and line his massive torso, circling his throat and lining his face. 

Scales, white scales, like that of the dragon. They shine in the dim firelight, and his captor grins wider.   

“Have you figured it out yet, knight?” he asks, almost singing in Ren’s ear, “What manner of creature you’ve been caught by?” 

The creature—the dragon—laughs. When his mouth parts, all Ren can see is rows of sharp, twisted teeth. 

“Bingo,” he says. He tilts the sword slightly, letting Ren see his own throat. Two fingers are already pressed to his flesh, drawing a slow stream of blood from his neck. 

The dragon lines up all four fingers against’s Ren’s throat, claws against his skin. Ren can see it in the blade and feel it against his throat, just like he can feel the press of the dragon’s thumb against the side of his neck. 

“Do you still intend to slay me, knight?” the Dragon asks, “Without your armor, without your sword?”

“You— you’re terrorizing my home,” Ren says, which is not the answer the dragon wants. He presses the two new fingers into Ren’s skin, drawing two new streams of warm blood. 

“Do you intend to die like this?” the dragon rephrases, “Or will you… what was it you said? Brave knight, be cowed into backing down.” 

He presses his thumb further against Ren’s throat, not enough pressure to strangle him, but still enough to take his breath away. 

Ren gasps, but he can’t speak. His hands grip uselessly at the air where they hang at his sides, and warm blood coats the edge of his shirt. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, so loud he’s sure the dragon can hear. His whole body trembles, shivering in the cold, and he watches it all in the reflection of his own weapon. 

Ren does not admit anything, but he doesn’t need to. He knows when he’s been beaten. 

The dragon hums. He winds back and tosses the sword, where it clatters uselessly against the stone, lost in the dark. He removes the picture of Ren’s shameful defeat, and yet seals it completely. Ren has no way to defend himself, no means of protection. He’s entirely at the mercy of the dragon, and he doesn’t know what that means. 

The dragon wraps his free hand again against Ren’s chest, pinning him to his own body. Without the armor between himself and the dragon's chest, Ren becomes aware of how warm the monster is. Without his own input, he leans in, seeking out any respite from the cold. 

Again, the creature laughs. He pulls his bloody claws away from Ren’s throat and lifts them to his own mouth. With the freedom to move his head, Ren glances up, and watches as the dragon licks his blood off of his claws. 

Once he’s done, he meets Ren’s eyes, one claw still against his lip. 

“You know, knight. Most dragons…” he starts, “Take captives. Fair maidens, blushing princesses. Charming and harmless little things to show their strength.” 

“And you?” Ren asks. The dragon moves his hand down to wrap it around Ren’s stomach, his claws so long they hook around Ren’s side. 

“I’m thinking,” the dragon says. He leans down, pressing his head against Ren’s neck. Ren gasps as something wet and warm laps against his skin, the dragon’s tongue pressing against the topmost of his bloody wounds. Ren turns his head away to avoid it, but only offers the dragon access to more of his throat. 

“Wh-what are you thinking?” Ren asks. The dragon holds him tighter, his lower hand resting on Ren’s hip. The hand around his shoulders drops lower as well, slipping under Ren’s shirt and finding its way back up to his chest. His palm is warm, spread out across his jackrabbiting heartbeat. 

“How does a maiden showcase my strength? Any old dragon can capture a girl and drag her home. It means nothing,” the dragon says. The hand on Ren’s hip curls tighter, claws digging into the metal against Ren’s body and tearing it, “But a knight… only a truly powerful dragon could keep a knight in submission.” 

“Let me go,” Ren says. There’s no heat behind it—his whole body is freezing, he can’t muster any fire. 

“It doesn’t sound like you mean that,” the dragon says, “I wonder if you even want that.” 

“You think I want to stay here?” Ren asks. The dragon drops the shredded metal blocking him from holding Ren’s hip and replaces it with his hand, pressing his thumb down over the bone. 

“I watched your town for some time, you know. Trying to decide if I wanted to stay. Do you know what I saw?” the dragon asks. Ren says nothing, and the dragon slips his other hand up Ren’s shirt, holding his waist. 

“Near-defenseless shepherds. No help from the crown. One dutiful knight, doing anything his town asked,” the dragon says, “The people loved having a protector, yes, someone they could direct to do the terrible and thankless tasks no one else wanted to. Someone they could hurt endlessly and who would allow it willingly. Someone expendable.” 

“You saw wrong,” Ren says. 

“Did I?” the dragon asks, “Does anyone love you, knight? You, not your armor and your sword, not the protection you provide.” 

“My home loves me,” Ren says. 

“Your home is not a person. Your townsfolk love the idea of you, just as you love the idea of your home,” the dragon says, “But you know what, knight? I spent weeks watching and observing, and never once did I hear your name.” 

Ren is silent for a long moment. The dragon rubs a small arc against his waist, gentle with his claws. 

“I watched your town for weeks,” the dragon says again. This time, his voice is softer, “Do you want to know what I saw?” 

“What did you see?” Ren asks. 

“I saw a beautiful man in gleaming armor, devoted lovingly to his cause. I saw him pass dozens of sleepless nights, standing guard so all could sleep soundly. I saw him run all day through town, helping with anything he was asked, no matter how tired. I saw him struggle to maintain his balance as he spoke softly to crying children, I saw him face terrible creatures on barely any sleep. I saw the way that knight ran himself into the ground to keep safe people who did not thank him, who hardly noticed all that he sacrificed for them,” the dragon says, “And I wanted him for myself.” 

“Why?” Ren asks. 

“I am a dragon. I covet those most valuable treasures which do not belong to me, and I take them,” the dragon says. He pulls his hand out of Ren’s shirt, raising it up to Ren’s hair, taking a strand and inspecting it. Ren’s heart beats quickly below his palm, and Ren trembles against his body, and Ren’s hair is soft between his fingers. 

“What do you do with the treasures you steal?” Ren asks. 

“I hoard them,” the dragon says, “I drag them back to my lair and keep them. I slay anything which dares to even look upon them.”

He pulls Ren closer, dropping his hair to press Ren tighter against his own body. 

“And I lay with them. I hold them close and protect them,” the dragon says, “I watch them, and I appreciate their beauty, and I love them more than any ungrateful past owners ever could.” 

Ren says nothing. Slowly, he raises one hand, seeking out the clawed hand of the dragon resting over his clothes. Though he can’t see it, he can practically feel the dragon smile.

“Would my knight give me the name of what I want most?” the dragon asks. 

“…Ren,” Ren says.

“Ren,” the dragon repeats, almost purring. The dragon leans down, squeezing him so tight it rips the breath out of him. The dragon makes a pleased noise, then releases Ren entirely. 

“Then I will take care of you, Ren,” the dragon says, “My knight. My coveted treasure, all mine.” 

He spins Ren to face a wall then bends down, hooking his hands behind Ren’s back and under Ren’s knees. He scoops Ren up and returns to full height, lifting Ren high off the ground. 

Ren yelps, half a curse, but that doesn’t stop the dragon from manhandling him. 

“What are you doing?!” Ren asks. The dragon stares blankly. 

“You’re mine,” the dragon says, “I’m bringing you back to my hoard. Oh, but I got you dirty.” 

He tilts Ren backwards, forcing Ren to throw his head back, and takes advantage of the opening to again lick at the bloody wounds on Ren’s throat. Ren makes some noise of protest, but the dragon ignores him. 

“I can’t leave you covered in blood,” the dragon says. He follows the trail of blood down Ren’s neck and to his chest, shifting to hold Ren with one large arm so he can tug Ren’s shirt down with his newly-freed hand. He chases the blood down to Ren’s collarbone with his large tongue, pressing the warm thing wherever he determines it’s needed to clean his new charge. 

Ren’s body still trembles with cold, but his face is hot with what he assumes must be shame. It warms his face and flutters in his chest, and it leaves him squirming under the dragon’s attention. 

The dragon pulls away, finally satisfied. When he looks down at Ren, he seems proud of himself. 

“Red suits you,” the dragon says. 

“I’m not bloody anymore,” Ren says, somewhat confused. 

“That isn’t what I meant,” the dragon replies, “You look as though you’ve enjoyed yourself.” 

“I haven’t,” Ren says. The dragon looks unimpressed with his lie, shifting Ren to hold him again in two hands. 

“Then I’ll try again,” the dragon says. Ren expects the dragon to move toward his neck, but he doesn’t—instead he leans down for Ren’s lips, capturing Ren’s mouth with his own. 

The dragon’s lips are dry and cracked, an effect of the endlessly cold air that circles him. His kissing is hungry, pressing against the lips of his knight. 

His eyes are open as he watches Ren, bright and piercing, observing the way Ren’s eyes blow wide. Ren feels the dragon’s smug smile grow against his mouth. 

“Relax,” the dragon coos, parting just to speak. Ren continues to shake in his arms, and he only laughs. “You’ve already given yourself to me, Ren. Let me make it worth your while. When was the last time someone kissed you?”

Ren says nothing. True shame floods him this time, a far more juvenile and mundane embarrassment.  

“Knights are meant to stay faithful to their cause,” Ren says. The dragon scoffs. 

“Don’t tell me no one has ever kissed you,” the dragon says. Ren looks away, and the dragon shifts his hold, making Ren look at him. “A beautiful, perfect thing like you, and no one kissed you? That village really did not deserve you. I’ll fix it.” 

The dragon leans down again, kissing Ren. His kiss is gentler, less forceful, at least at first. Ren doesn’t kiss back, though he tilts his head, giving the dragon easier access to whatever he wants. 

The dragon’s tongue slips out, warm and increasingly familiar, licking at Ren’s shut lips. Ren shivers again at the feeling, unsure if it’s solely the cold that shakes him, and closes his eyes. 

Already this far gone, Ren kisses him back. 

The dragon’s tongue pushes into Ren. He tastes of iron, his kiss tinged with Ren’s own blood. 

Ren’s reciprocation only emboldens the dragon, who nips at Ren’s bottom lip. He grazes Ren’s lip with sharp teeth, but Ren finds that doesn’t scare him. 

When the dragon pulls away, Ren chases him, chest heaving as he can suddenly breathe again. The dragon snickers, kissing Ren’s nose. 

“This is hurting my neck,” the dragon says, “I have a better place to continue this. But I need to warm you up before we do anything else.” 

Ren nods—without the dragon’s tongue against his body, he again feels cold, and he turns his face into the dragon’s chest to chase the chill away. 

“You’re way underdressed to fight an ice dragon,” the dragon says, beginning his walk deeper into the cave. He snuffs out Ren’s forgotten torch as he does, plunging Ren into complete darkness. 

“Wait, I can’t see,” Ren says. 

“I can,” the dragon says, “You won’t need sight. I’ll take care of your every need.”

“And if I wanted to see you?” Ren asks.

The dragon pauses. 

“I can arrange for some light,” he decides, “Anything you want, I'll get for you.” 

“What if I wanted to leave?” Ren asks. 

“Leave my cave?” the dragon asks, “Or leave me?” 

“Either,” Ren says. 

“My cave, we will leave together. Dragons roam. We’ll find a cave which suits you, where you can be comfortable. I’ll take a palace if that’s what you want,” the dragon says, “But me? There is nowhere you can run where I won’t find you.”

Ren shudders again. He doesn’t think it’s because he’s cold. 

The dragon walks in silence, holding Ren close to his chest. After some time, Ren hears running water, and the dragon slows to a stop. 

“You can’t see it,” the dragon says, “But this is a large room with a small pool of fresh water. This is where I sleep. There’s a bed of furs of my past meals, a soft spot I’ve prepared for you, as soft, weak-skimmed humans aren’t meant to lie on rock. That’s where I’m taking you.” 

He stoops down as he talks, setting Ren somewhere soft. The last of Ren’s armor clinks as the dragon sets him down, and then he hears the dragon move. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he still flushes when he feels claws on his waist, seeking out the fasteners on his armor. 

“You have no need of this,” the dragon says. He cuts the fasteners and tosses the metal aside, then lifts both of Ren’s legs with one hand, seeking out the fasteners keeping his bracers secured. He snaps each one individually, moving from the bottom up, crawling up Ren’s legs and toward his hips. He crumples each piece of armor as he removes it, tossing it violently to the side. 

“You don’t need this,” the dragon says, finally removing the last piece. He sets Ren’s legs down, and Ren hears him shuffle. There’s a loud thump, both in front of Ren and beside him, and Ren realizes the dragon is lying down. He paws at Ren’s waist, tugging an arm around Ren and pulling Ren closer to him. 

“Let me warm you,” the dragon says. He pulls Ren flush against his own body, wrapping both arms around Ren’s torso. Ren curls against him, chasing the paradoxical warmth of the dragon’s body. 

When he has Ren close, the dragon kisses Ren’s forehead, gentle as can be. 

“My knight,” the dragon says, practically purring with approval. He slips a hand up the back of Ren’s shirt, rubbing his back, trying to chase away the cold. Bit by bit, it works, and Ren feels himself grow warmer. 

Feeling brave in the pitch blackness, Ren leans forward, kissing the dragon’s collarbone. He half expects the dragon to retaliate, but he keeps Ren close, focused on his mission to stop Ren’s shivering. 

“What happens now?” Ren asks. The dragon laughs. 

“I’m going to warm you up, and then I guess I should figure out a light source, since you wanted one.” the dragon says, “And then it’s up to you. I want what you want.” 

“What if I wanted your name?” Ren asks. The dragon stutters in his movements, but only for a momentary surprise. 

“Then I would give it to you, of course,” the dragon says, “Martyn. All yours.”

Notes:

I haven't even watched Fantasy SMP yet.

Leave a comment if you liked this. I wrote another one of these things, so I decided to make a series for the two of them. If I write more standalone pieces, I'll add them.

Series this work belongs to: