Chapter Text
Adjustment is an amazing human trait.
At first, something seems beyond your imagination. Like living on a desert island. But once you find yourself in that situation, you have no choice but to get used to it. To adapt. Find ways to make your life in those circumstances more tolerable. Maybe even find some positive aspects. And then you don't notice how what you thought was impossible becomes your daily routine.
The same thing happened to Simon.
The first days on the island were a nightmare. Every time he closed his eyes, he wished he would fall asleep and wake up to find that it had all been a dream. Just a dream. But as the days passed, and every morning he opened his eyes in the same cave, and at some point it didn't seem so terrible anymore. Simon began to get used to it. He knew that Wilhelm would bring the same fruit for breakfast, they would eat in silence, sitting by the cliff overlooking the vast sea. Then they would go down to the shore to continue their search for the boat, and spend most of the day by the water. As the sun begins to slip toward the horizon, Wilhelm will take up his spear to catch fish, while Simon and the little creature will sit on the rocks keeping him company. After fishing, they will go back up to the cave, cook the fish, eat dinner, and spend the rest of the day sitting around the fire.
Simon marks the days that have passed, drawing charcoal lines on the wall next to his bed. He pays no attention to which of these lines life on the island ceases to seem unbearable.
“Good morning,” he greets Wilhelm as he joins him at the start of the day.
Wilhelm frowns slightly as he hands him the fruit. Today it's a small round fruit with a purple rind and bright yellow flesh. Simon watches Wilhelm eat it first to see what part of the thing is edible. It has a far more interesting taste than those pink fruits, but only until the white rind is caught. Simon wrinkles his nose at the bitter taste, while Wilhelm appears to be amused.
“You don't eat that white stuff.”
“Yes, thank you, I've figured that out,” Simon says, still feeling the bitterness on his tongue.
“Have you never eaten one of these before?” judging by the intonation, the thought first crossed his bright mind.
Simon takes a sip of water from his cup. “No, where I come from grows a very different kind of fruit. And I also don't think I've ever eaten so much fish.”
So flavorless, without any spice, he'd like to add. But that would sound judgmental, and Simon can't really be judgmental about not being able to cook something better. At least they cook the fish before they eat it, which is an accomplishment of sorts.
“What do people usually eat?”
This becomes the main topic of conversation for the next couple of hours as they make their way down to the shore. As he talks about food habits in his home, Simon suddenly realizes how much he misses human food. Not just the way it tastes, but even the simple smell of it. Like the smell of fresh bread in the morning, or tomatoes fresh off the bed that smell warm and sunny. And just thinking about the aromas that waft through the house when the kitchen is cooking something with oranges, be it meat or desserts, makes his stomach rumble.
Eventually they finally found a boat that was feasible to fix; it hadn't yet had time to rot from the water, and the damaged bottom and a hole in one side could be patched up. At least they would try. Good planks can be stripped from the other wrecks, though it's difficult without the proper tools. Wilhelm is good with a rock, using it instead of a tool, but even his skills are sometimes not enough.
Simon suggests making a couple of tools to work with wood. He explains the idea to Wilhelm and the latter agrees, but it takes time to accomplish. At first, Wilhelm takes the job himself, as he already has some experience, but eventually Simon convinces him to show how to do it. Who would have thought that sharpening a stone could be so complicated?
“Then how do people build their houses if you don't know how to handle the materials?” Wilhelm asks in a puzzled expression as he watches Simon.
Actually, this question really hits him.
“Are you trying to say that I'm useless?”
“No,” the answer is sincere, of course, but only because Wilhelm is very kind to him.
Simon sulks for a few minutes, more aggressively chipping the stone with his knife (God bless the existence of at least some human tools on this island). After a while, however, his indignation wanes, and he continues the conversation himself.
“In human society, everyone does what they are skilled at. There are people who know how to work with metals—we call them blacksmiths—or wood, there are those who build houses, work the land, take care of animals… I haven't had to do any of that. That's why I'm so useless.”
Whence this sudden flow of self-criticism? Simon himself isn't sure, to be honest. It might have something to do with the way new circumstances had made him reassess his skills. He had no skills in forging or farming, but he is literate, speaks three languages, and is an excellent horseman. Now which of these would be more useful to him?
“If I was given a—what did you call it, an axe?—I wouldn't know what to do with it. I hardly ever have a need for such things. Apparently, you had no need to know all of these things. That ain't a bad thing.”
Simon chuckles, shaking his head, but he can't help but admit that those words comforted him. He doesn't think Wilhelm is useless because he doesn't know how to use a fork, does he?
“Well, you were the first to insinuate that I'm remarkably unfit for living,” he says angrily.
“I did not mean it like that. Did not intend to offend you. What you said about the different roles explains it all.”
“I'm not offended, Wille. It's okay.”
Simon doesn't know at what point he stops feeling the constant tension around Wilhelm. It just happens on its own. It's been days since his last… breakdown, and all this time he has been acting very friendly. Occasionally he would ask Simon something related to human life, the most mundane little things that came to his mind. Simon would happily answer, though it was still a bit strange. Some things seemed so simple and obvious to him that he didn't know how to explain them. Like what a cat was, for example.
The question arose by chance. One evening he found Wilhelm sitting by the cliff, the little creature curled up beside him. Wilhelm, without noticing it, stroked the creature's stiff fur, receiving a quiet rumble in return.
“It reminds me of our cat,” said Simon, coming closer.
“What is a cat?” the question follows almost immediately.
Simon never had to explain what a cat was. Everyone knows what it is, don't they? How can it even be explained in such a way that a person who has never seen a cat in his life understands what it is?
“It's… the sort of animal,” he says uncertainly. Simon sits down next to him, so that the creature lies between him and Wilhelm. It opens one of its yellow eyes to look at him. “Small, furry, big ears, a tail. Almost like this one. People get them as pets. So this one,” he touches the animal's nose with the tip of his index finger, lightly and quickly, “is very much like it.”
Wilhelm smiles, looking at the creature. “I didn't get her. She just tagged along on her own.”
Simon snorts. “Yeah, that's very cat-like, as well.”
Even that little bit helps him get used to it.
He continues to learn new things. Fixing a boat, oddly enough, is the least likely to require new skills. Physical strength rather than skill is more important here, so Wilhelm is still much more efficient. Simon learns other things from him, though. First, how to start a fire, in case he needs to do it while Wilhelm is not around. Then he explores the rainforest so he can pick fruit on his own. Finally, Simon asks Wilhelm to teach him how to catch fish.
“There's nothing complicated about it. You just have to focus and act fast.”
“Are you sure these things go together?”
When Wilhelm shows how it's done, it looks simple. He stands in the water, knee-deep or so, looking out for fish swimming around. As soon as one swims close enough, he stabs it with his spear in one swift motion. In his performance, everything is neat and coordinated.
Simon's is not so smooth.
For the most part, he lacks speed. By the time he plunges the spear into the water, the fish manages to notice the movement and slip away. Time after time. After an unknown number of attempts, Simon makes it to shore, disappointed.
“Maybe I'm just not cut out for this,” he grumbles.
“You did not expect to succeed at your first try, did you?” smiles Wilhelm. He tried his best to guide Simon, but guidance alone is unfortunately not enough here.
“Well, I didn't think it would be so–”
He doesn't finish his sentence because he slips on the wet rocks and starts to fall. Simon instinctively waves his arms around, hoping to grab onto something, and Wilhelm comes to his aid. He scoops him up under his arms, keeping him on his feet, and allows Simon to grab onto his forearms—also mostly instinctively. Damn, that was close. Another fall would have left him with broken bones for sure.
“Thank you,” Simon exhales, his breathing still rapid. “No wonder that–” he interrupts, feeling the grip on his arms tighten.
Lifting his head, he meets Wilhelm, whose gaze is focused somewhere around his neck. He is tense—Simon could feel it in his tight grip—and focused. His palms grow hot.
Fuck.
“Wille,” Simon calls out, trying to keep the panicked notes out of his voice. “Wille, it's okay. You can let me go.”
Wilhelm doesn't seem to hear him. His chest heaving frequently, his skin growing hotter, and he has absolutely no reaction to anything said. When Simon makes an attempt to free his hands, it proves to be the worst decision in the current situation. A familiar glow flashes under Wilhelm's skin, starting as always from the very center of his chest. His fingers dig even harder into Simon's skin, and he yanks Simon closer to himself, with a growled “mine” escaping his lips.
Simon feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest-or stop, depending on what comes first. Now he's scared out of his wits. However, it ends as quickly as it began. The glow fades, the grip on his arms loosens, and now Wilhelm is backing away, looking either frightened or guilty.
“I–… sorry,” he whispers.
The look on Simon's face probably doesn't help much, because he knows for a fact that he's looking at Wilhelm in horror. He rubs his arms, still feeling the mark of the other man's fingers. He wishes he could somehow comfort Wilhelm, but he can't even comfort himself right now. The most trivial “it's okay” would be obviously a lie, because it's already clear that nothing is okay. Simon is scared to death. Just a little more, and he might…
Without another word, Wilhelm turns around and hurriedly leaves.
He is gone until the morning. For the first time, Simon feels uncomfortable sleeping alone in the cave. It's hard to say whether it's the fact that no one is around him or the fact that he doesn't know for sure where Wilhelm is and how he's… doing. Simon himself doesn't fully realize that his uneasy feeling is not caused by worrying about his own life.
He's worried about Wilhelm. And somehow misses him.
In the morning, he wakes up earlier than usual, anxiety keeping him awake. Simon is about to go down to the lower cave to look for Wilhelm when the latter comes to him. He doesn't look very well. He seems paler than usual, with pouches under his eyes, as if he had been up all night, and fresh abrasions all over his body. The night clearly didn't go too well.
“Morning,” Simon greets him. He can't bring himself to say it's a good one.
“Hey. Sorry, I-I'm probably later than usual. And I haven't been down yet, I was going to-”
Simon interrupts his feeble attempts to articulate his thoughts. Whatever was affecting Wilhelm more, fatigue or fighting the dragon, he was clearly having a hard time speaking.
“Wille, it's okay,” he can say it now. “Come sit down. I've already brought us food,” he points to the fruit he had gathered. He needed something to occupy himself with in the morning.
They eat in silence. However, “eating” is a bit of an exaggeration, since they have barely touched their food. Simon is so worried that he is feeling nauseous. Wilhelm takes a very long and slow time eating half of the fruit, most of the time just glaring at the floor of the cave. This is very awkward.
“I am sorry about yesterday,” Wilhelm breaks the silence.
Simon stares at him for a moment, deciding what he should say. Since the initial shock had passed, he had been thinking more about Wilhelm than himself. Now, seeing the abrasions on the man's body, he couldn't shake the urge to somehow… help him.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says finally.
This is clearly not what Wilhelm expects to hear, because he looks at Simon as if he has said some nonsense.
“What are you talking about? I nearly-”
“Exactly, Wilhelm. Nearly,” he tries to keep a calm expression on his face. “You resisted the dragon. You didn't hurt me in any way, so you have no reason to apologize.”
Wilhelm stares at him for a while longer, as if Simon has suddenly started speaking in an unknown language. Okay, maybe they started off on the wrong foot, because why does he expect Simon to react worse? His anger and fear don't prevent him from adequately perceiving the situation. He is coming to realize that Wilhelm is not to blame for what is happening—for that matter, it was Simon's fault for yesterday's incident, with his clumsiness and wet rocks. Wille had managed to hold the dragon back. Why would Simon be angry with him now?
“Don’t get me wrong, I am afraid of the dragon. Yesterday, for a moment, I thought that… it was it. That you lost it. But you didn’t, and that is what we should focus on. Our fears will not help us in any way.”
After a few minutes of silence, Wilhelm resorts to his favored tactic: changing the subject. He suggests going down to the shore to work on the boat. At first, Simon considers asking him to rest, to stay in the cave today, but almost immediately he realizes how futile such an idea is. It would be better to get busy and thus distract themselves than to sit here and think about what has happened over and over again.
They work mostly in silence, too; after their previous long conversations, this silence feels heavy, uncomfortable. Strangely enough, it is the wind that makes them break their silence. It's always windy by the water, so Simon wouldn't even notice, but Wilhelm straightens up, looking out to sea.
“What's the matter?” Simon approaches the other man. To be honest, he's glad for the opportunity to distract himself from the repair-he's pretty sure he got a splinter in his finger a few minutes ago.
“The wind is changing,” Wilhelm replies, frowning. “See?”
Simon tries to follow his gaze, but all he sees is a vast blue sky and a few birds soaring in the distance.
“What exactly am I supposed to see other than the seagulls?” he sounds uncertain now, unsure of where to look.
The answer comes in the tone with which the most obvious things are voiced. “The wind.”
Oh yes, Simon thinks. The water is wet, the sky is blue. The wind. Whatever that means. Luckily, Wilhelm catches the confusion on his face.
“Can't you see it?”
“Wille, I'm afraid to disappoint you, but humans don't see the wind. Not literally, at least.”
At first, all he gets in response is a thoughtful huh. He rolls his eyes softly, but doesn't get seriously indignant for a second. Simon enjoys watching how Wilhelm reacts when faced with something unfamiliar.
“But in that case, how do humans travel? Don't your ships depend on the wind?”
“Mostly we travel overland. On foot or by wagons, only very strong wind can get in the way. And ships mostly rely on the rowers, not the wind.”
It's hard to grow up by the sea and learn nothing about ships; Simon, who had been obsessed with the idea of traveling the world as a kid, knew quite a bit about ships. Although it was not reciprocated by ships—on several occasions during sea journeys, Simon had episodes of seasickness.
“Can you… see the wind?”
Wilhelm nods, his gaze still fixed on the distance, tracing wind flows invisible to the human eye.
“Like all the dragons do. It helps us fly.”
Perhaps he doesn't notice it himself, but Wilhelm extremely rarely used 'we' when referring to dragons. Whereas at first this might have been surprising, by this point the reason was obvious. He didn't associate with them. Maybe he just didn't want to — denying that part of his being was a common thing for him. Hearing that 'we' was unexpected.
“What does it look like?”
“I can show you.”
There is a plant blooming on the shore a few steps away from them. Wilhelm plucks a flower and kneads it in his palm, separating the petals. Then he steps next to Simon, looking into the wind patterns that Simon can't see. Raising his hand up, Wilhelm releases the first petal, which is immediately picked up by a stream of wind. One by one, the petals slip out of Wilhelm's palm and swirl in the air, repeating the patterns of the wind.
Simon watched it, mesmerized. Why would he be mesmerized? Had he never seen leaves lifted into the air by a gust of wind? Of course he had. But now, at this very moment, he finds it the most beautiful vision of all. The pink petals in the air, the clear blue sky, and the vast sea ahead. And Wilhelm, watching the petals with a smile. He is so happy every time he is the one who can show Simon something new, because usually he only asks, wanting to learn from him about humans. A smile suits him very well. It softens his features, making him even more handsome. If he lived among humans, a lot of women would dream of drawing his attention to themselves.
But right now, all his attention belongs to Simon.
“Do you see it now?”
Oh, yes. Simon does see it. “I do. It is beautiful.”
Even if his answer is not about Wilhelm's demonstration, it is still true. All of this is very beautiful. Too bad it can't be seen without some help.
“And what does it mean? You seemed concerned when you noticed the change.”
Perhaps that ruins the moment a bit. Wilhelm looks away, and while he no longer looks worried or sad, there is no longer the lightness in him that was there a moment ago.
“There is going to be rain, perhaps even a thunderstorm. We should prepare for it.”
The preparation was to protect the living cave from the rain. The holes that allowed so much light to come through would let water in just as well. It was decided to make a canopy using sails from sunken boats. The task was not an easy one. They spent several hours on it, finishing after it got dark.
As soon as the last knot securing the canvas “roof” was tied, Simon collapsed on his sleeping place with his arms out to the sides. Wilhelm, who didn't look nearly as tired, took a seat a little to the side.
“Why haven't we done this before?” Simon looks up at the ceiling, now confined by the cloth. Somehow it made the cave look better. At his side, Wilhelm snorts quietly. “I'm serious. Actually… why haven't you done this before?”
It's one of those questions that makes Wilhelm's shoulders grow tense. It happens less often as they get used to each other, but as soon as Simon asks him about the past or about dragons, this reaction always follows.
“I had no need for it.”
“Have you been living down there in the dungeon the whole time?”
Simon would never believe it. Not because the living conditions even here left much to be desired, but because in this very cave he had noticed signs of someone living here before. Sure, it easily could have been one of the dragons that had lived here before Wilhelm, but then why would he choose to punish himself so much by leaving his relatively cozy dwelling to live in a dungeon? Something is not right here.
“No,” it's almost a relief that Wilhelm doesn't try to deny it. “I used to live here, before I was left by myself.”
Simon sighs. “You really don't like talking about your past, do you?”
“Yeah,” the answer is even more direct than the previous one. “When I think about it, I feel… weird. In a bad way. I get restless, heavy in my chest. Like it hurts, but not the way a wound hurts.”
“You feel sad.”
It is so strange to hear someone trying to describe a feeling without knowing the right words. This, in its own way, is also sad. Some people say that pity is a bad feeling, humiliating. Perhaps these people just don't see the difference between pity and empathy. The ability to empathize is one of the most human traits a person can possess.
Simon can't help the pinching feeling in his chest.
“Probably,” Wilhelm shrugs.
The air between them is getting too heavy. Why do their conversations come to this so often?
“And here I thought you just didn't want to tell me anything.”
He says it half-jokingly, but Wilhelm does not smile for a moment. Simon lifts himself up on his elbows, looking at him.
“Wilhelm? You don't… you don't want to keep me unaware deliberately, do you?”
He can understand if Wille keeps quiet about something because it hurts him to talk about it. That's a valid reason, Simon respects it. But if Wilhelm is again using his stupid logic, in which his lies and silence “protect” Simon—he won't accept that.
Wilhelm looks away, resorting to his usual consolation of putting his palm down on his chest, rubbing a certain point with his fingertips. The sight of him at this moment is the best visualization of guilt you can come up with.
“I don't want you to know everything. You won't like it.”
Oh, and it had started out so well.
“Why don't you let me decide for myself?” is the most peaceful version of what Simon can say in this situation.
“You…” Wilhelm takes a deep breath, gathering his wits. “When you find out everything, you're going to hate me. Even more than you do now.”
So part of his silence lies in a willful reluctance to let Simon know certain facts after all. That… should make him angry, but somehow Simon isn't. A little annoyed, perhaps, but certainly no desire to shake Wilhelm and demand answers.
Now Simon sits down; at first he wants to reach for Wilhelm, maybe touch him to urge him to look at him, but he knows better. He can manage with just words.
“Who said I hate you?”
Wilhelm's lips curve in a sneer. “You hate the dragon. It's the same thing.”
This is the second time in the last day that Wilhelm has consciously referred to himself as a dragon, but this time he does it in a fit of self-criticism. Except Simon doesn't agree with him.
“Look at me, Wille,” Simon asks, in a very soft and calm tone. He waits for his request to be fulfilled. “I don't hate you. I can be angry at the dragon and afraid of it, it's true. I can also be upset with you, but that's far from hate. So, again: I can decide for myself. You don't need to make assumptions.”
At least this time, Wilhelm isn't looking at him like he's crazy. He's thinking about something else, first looking at Simon, then lowering his gaze to his hands. He picks at the skin a little with his fingernail, another bad habit.
Wilhelm doesn't say anything more on the subject, but after a while, when it's bedtime, he suddenly asks: “Do you mind if I… stay here tonight?”
Simon, of course, does not mind one bit.
The rain starts sometime during the night; by morning everything is already soggy, with puddles everywhere and streams of water running down from the top of the cliff. The canvas they pulled up last night was a great and very timely solution, because everything they couldn't cover was caught in the rain. There are gaps in the old sails somewhere, so even their shelter is not completely insulated from the water.
It was the sound of dripping water that finally woke Simon up. It was the repetitive drip, drip, drip that had kept him awake since he had first woken up in the morning. After a little twisting in his place (which was nowhere near as comfortable as tossing and turning in bed, unfortunately) Simon sat up, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his hands. One could immediately sense the change in the weather, because the sun, hidden behind gray clouds, had not begun to warm the earth since sunrise. It was also darker than usual because of the overcast weather.
Standing up and stretching, Simon went to the water source to clean himself up. It was at that moment that he was reminded that he had not slept here alone tonight. Wilhelm was still asleep; he was lying on his side, curled up, with the small creature sleeping next to him in the same position. Simon couldn't hold back the smile the sight caused. Not wanting to be creepy and stare at the sleeping man, Simon went to the source after all.
The heavy rain completely changes their daily routine. In the morning, they eat the fruit they have picked beforehand, sitting under the protection of a cloth. The sea today is dark, almost black, with white streaks where the waves roll in. There is no storm ashore yet, but it seems only a matter of time before it arrives.
By the middle of the day, Simon begins to suffer from boredom. This day reminds him of his time in the northern principality, when he spent most of the day indoors. But there he still had something to do. Here, all he had to do was watch the weather. And Wilhelm.
Who, in turn, busied himself sharpening his fishing spear. It seemed a very meditative activity. The man sat cross-legged and trimmed the sharp tip of the wooden spear with a knife. The sound of the blade sliding on the wood was added to the sound of the rain and wind, as if it was part of their sound.
“So is this how your days used to be?” Simon remembers what Wilhelm told him yesterday, but he still isn't ready to give up on the idea of learning more about him. Besides, this question doesn't involve revealing anything personal.
Wilhelm seems to agree with him, because he answers very calmly, without thinking. “More or less, yes.”
“But it's terribly boring. Have you not wanted something more than this? You said other dragons traveled the world. Why don't you do that?”
He has no intention of sounding rude or ignorant, but Simon genuinely doesn't understand how you can choose to live like this when you have unlimited freedom. It costs nothing for a dragon to just take off to the edge of the world. Simon would never turn down such an opportunity.
“That would mean giving up control to the dragon. I don't want to do that.”
“So… have all those dragons before you lived at peace with… this part?”
Wilhelm clenches his jaws so hard that the tense muscles become visible.
“I don't know what they thought of this part,” he replies in a more heated tone. “But they all agreed to the ritual. Knowing that is enough for me to know that I don't want to be like them.”
“You still aren't going to tell me the nature of it?”
Simon had realized from day one how important this ritual was to dragons. This, however, did not eliminate a lot of related questions. How exactly does the ritual take place? What does it accomplish? He only knew the part where the humans agreed to give their daughters to the dragons to keep the dragons from destroying their homes. But why exactly do dragons need human maidens? Simon has several assumptions, one worse than the other. He would like to know the truth.
“Ask something else.”
And, well. He offered it himself, didn't he?
“Promise to answer?” Simon sits down closer to Wilhelm, who, seeing that he won't be getting any peace anytime soon, puts aside his knife and spear.
“I promise.”
Simon has so many questions, he doesn't know which one to ask first. But there is one that interests him the most. The answer to that question should clarify many things.
“You said the Dragonslayer killed another dragon. Who was it?”
This particular moment in Wilhelm's story is what keeps him most uneasy. The Dragonslayer's arrival has divided his life into before and after. The after, Simon can see for himself. But what was the before?
Everything in Wilhelm's posture now gives away his tension, almost making Simon regret the question. Is it too personal? Too painful a memory? He prays that the dragon will not get angry by talking about his slain kin.
“My ancestor. I think humans would call him my father,” the man frowns.
Oh. So it's really personal, then. Not that it was hard to guess, because who else would he be living here with if not a member of his family? It makes sense, but it's still good to get confirmation.
“I'm sorry,” Simon whispers, not sure if he's sorry for losing Wilhelm or for asking.
“There's nothing to be sorry about. He was a monster,” Wilhelm says coldly. His eyes, however, reveal a different sentiment.
“He was your father.”
“That means very little to my kind.”
Seemingly, this should be the end of the conversation. Simon doesn't feel confident enough to keep asking. He does not put his curiosity above other people's feelings, and Wilhelm explicitly admitted that he does not like to talk about his past. However, to Simon's surprise, Wilhelm continues to talk.
“When I was younger, I admired him. He seemed so strong, so powerful to me. I wanted to be like him. I was meant to be like him. But then, for the first time, I saw human things. I wondered—what if I became like them? And when it was my time to become a dragon, I… did not want it. He was disappointed, but he couldn't help it. You can't become a dragon against your will.”
Simon listens to him, holding his breath. It is the most detailed and most personal story he has ever received from Wilhelm, and Simon is able to appreciate how special this moment is. He can't help but think about the fact that he is the only person in the entire world that Wilhelm could have told this to.
Another “becoming a dragon” doesn't escape him either. Wilhelm keeps talking about it like it's some special event. Another ritual, perhaps? But his father was a dragon without a doubt, which means Wilhelm was born a dragon too.
“Why did you change your mind?”
“The pain and anger of that loss drove me. It felt right at the time, it was the one thing he wanted for me. I even thought about getting revenge. But as soon as I first turned, I realized right away what a mistake I had made. My father was a monster, and I had awakened the same monster in me. But it was too late. In the end… it turned out exactly the way he wanted it to. One dragon took the place of another.”
Now it is clear why Wilhelm was so fundamentally concerned with controlling himself. He hated the dragon from the start. That must have been the reason he spent his nights in the dungeon, where he said it was safer. His fight with the dragon had begun long before Simon had appeared on the island, and it was unlikely to end when he left it.
Sooner or later.
“You say 'become a dragon', but weren't you… born that way?”
For some reason, Wilhelm chuckles. Perhaps this time it's Simon who sounds naive and unaware, and he finds it amusing.
“Yes and no. We have it embedded in us from birth, but to truly become a dragon, you have to… let it out. Awaken it.”
“Another ritual?” Simon raises an eyebrow questioningly. Dragons seem to have a certain fixation on rituals.
“You can call it anything you want. We call it the first flight.”
“Is it secret, too?”
“No,” Wilhelm thinks about something for a moment, his lips quivering in a smile. “You could pass it,” of course, Simon answers him with a questioning look. Wilhelm doesn't hesitate with the clarification. “You have to jump off the cliff. Exactly where you…”
He doesn't finish, probably unable to find the right word. Or maybe he just doesn't feel like talking out loud about Simon almost killing himself.
Simon isn't sure what emotion is reflected on his face. Can you tell from the look in his eyes how horrified he is at the thought of someone having to jump off that cliff to 'awaken the dragon within'? Is it obvious how sorry he is that Wilhelm had to go through that? After all, he didn't even want to do it. It was an emotional decision, made in a fit of desperation after his father was killed.
Dear God.
He bites his lip guiltily, looking at Wilhelm's profile, because he looks away as usual. Maybe he shouldn't have asked at all. But there's no turning back time, and one must be consistent in one's decisions.
“Thank you for telling me,” those words make Wilhelm look up at him. What big eyes he has. “I know it wasn't easy. Now I… see why.”
Still, he doesn't regret asking. Simon wanted to get to know Wilhelm, to understand him. Now he feels like he's starting to understand.
“It's not that bad,” Wilhelm says thoughtfully. “I always had a hard time thinking about it, but now… I began telling you about it and it got easier. The words came by their own.”
Simon smiles. “Yes, that's the beauty of heart-to-heart talks. Sometimes if you tell the other person what's bothering you, it gets easier.”
Who knows, maybe after today's conversation, Wilhelm will be more willing to talk about his story. Now that he knows it's 'not so bad' and in some ways even enjoyable, it's unlikely he will be so hesitant. At least about something he does not think will make Simon hate him.
But how could he hate Wilhelm? Every day he grows more familiar with him, with his awkward charm and his strength. Yes. Simon sees it clearly now, Wilhelm is incredibly strong. And it's not that the years of living on the island have hardened his body, making him strong physically. This man's inner strength, allowing him to stand up to a dragon and ancient ritual magic, is far more impressive. Simon is even a little ashamed that in the beginning he blamed Wilhelm for what happened and took his despair out on him. If it wasn't for Wilhelm's efforts, he would have been dead the first night.
Simon cannot hate him. If anything, he feels he might actually like him. Not as an idea, not simply because his presence make Simon feel less lonely. No, he likes Wilhelm as a person now.
And that can become a problem.