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Dream had become accustomed to the silence and how rarely it was breached other than when Roderick stormed down the stairs to make his demands, such as they were. It had been deafening at the beginning, and still was, catching him unaware at moments he did not allow the guards to see.
So when the roar that shook the foundations of the house rattled the chains holding his cage, making it sway, the panicked shouts were immediate, and Dream looked up from where he had been twisted to avoid the metal spikes at the base of the cage. Another roar, this one louder than the first, verging into a scream.
He stood, slow and deliberate, pressing his hand against the chilled glass, and watched the guards race up the stairwell at a command. The cage was still swaying on the chains, and the roars that echoed, the noise strong enough to make the air shimmer, were letting the cage rock steadily. Not enough momentum to move it forward, nor enough give in the chains, but perhaps…
The same screeching roar came again, and more shouting. Dream pressed both of his hands to the glass and stared at the entrance to the basement. His chance was coming, he could nearly taste the magic in the air of the creature approaching, and if he was right if he was correct with what it was? It would be the last mistake Burgess ever made.
It was a violent flash of blinding bright gold that shoved down the stairs, moving fast enough that Dream caught only glimpses of the creature until it stilled, its wings spread in full glory as a roar loud enough to crack the glass his palms were pressed against echoed in the basement. Dream’s chest heaved, though there had long since been no air in the cage, and he pressed harder against the glass, his arms straining.
The dragon, golden from head to toe with licks of ruby red along its belly, was clearly a juvenile, and absolutely furious. Dream leaned in closer against the glass, watching as they tried to restrain it with heavy iron chains. He waited for them all to be wreathed in fire, but though the dragon struggled and fought viciously with claw and tooth, he did not breathe fire, and Dream allowed himself to frown, confused. What was the dragon waiting for?
“What did I tell you," Burgess snapped, stalking down the stairs. "He does not know how to breathe fire. Defective dragon. Still useful though." He narrowed his eyes. "Now take back what it tried to steal. Those are mine."
Another roar shook the air and Dream watched the cracks on his cage widen further. He could taste the faintest hints of his power, just outside the glass, and he was so close to being free. If the dragon would only-
A flash of vibrant red in the air had Dream's full attention swinging to the dragon. He shifted in his cage, his whole body facing the dragon now. Hanging around the dragon's neck was a black satchel. He narrowed his eyes and frowned as the dragon snarled at the two guards who tried to come closer, but he was getting more and more held down by the second, chains being thrown over his wings.
Their window at escape was shrinking. Whatever was in that bag-
This time the dragon's roar was one of futility and Dream snarled, banging his hands on the glass. In an instant, the dragon was staring at him, warm brown eyes meeting his. Dream felt a spark of recognition, but then the dragon was freezing, all of his resistance gone. He forced himself to inhale against the lack of air and exhale, his teeth bared. Breathing fire came to dragons as naturally as all their other magics. For this dragon to have reached full juvenile age without knowing meant he had been raised without a clan, without a family. Alone.
"Ah, I see you've taken an interest in our guest."
Dream ignored Burgess, and kept his eyes on the dragon. The dragon was almost entirely coated in iron now, and he could see the fear growing in those eyes. None of them had dared get close to his teeth yet. Their chances weren't completely gone. He exhaled hard and bared his teeth once more. The glands a dragon required for fire breathing formed in their first year. Juveniles were at least twenty. This dragon had what he needed.
A low growl escaped the dragon, his scales glinting in the dark of the basement, and Dream nodded, urging him to repeat it. A sharp snap of the dragon's teeth sent the guards scattering.
'Fire,' Dream mouthed to the dragon. 'You must breathe fire.' The dragon's eyes filled with regret and fear and Dream was about to repeat the order, when Burgess' voice rang out again.
"He came here to rescue you, you know," Burgess said, standing beside the moat, glancing at Dream of the Endless. "Stole your tools from my office. And now he'll die in front of you. One more loyal creation of yours here to die, while they fail at freeing you."
Dream banged both his fists against the glass. Whoever this dragon was, how they had found out about him, they had come alone, without clan, unprepared, and now, now they would both be trapped, and he would watch the light fade from those brown eyes and it would be his fault for the death of this beautiful creature and-
The dragon lunged, all at once, straining against the chains, and Dream fell back as blood spattered across the cage and the heavy body of Roderick Burgess, his arm and half his chest missing, shredded by the teeth of the dragon, fell to the ground. Behind him, a rough pain, one of the spikes, pierced his arm.
There was another roar, and this one, this one carried a weight it that Dream knew. That not only he knew, but that he could feel. From the other side of the cage, fire erupted, swallowing the room and his entire cage. It was a never-ending stream, the roar bleeding into a scream from the dragon, and the second the cage buckled under the weight of the fire, the glass shattering around him, the sound abruptly cut off with a wet cough and a softer cry.
Dream stepped out into the basement, the stone beneath his feet still red hot with the temperature, and made his way through the smoke to the body of the dragon that was wreathed in chains. Power was flooding back to him, an avalanche, and through it all, his tools called to him, curled up with the creature he could no longer see. Shadows and smoke became his clothing, and Dream stopped to kneel beside the clearly weakened creature who was whimpering in pain.
Above them, the house was a conflagration that was growing by the second, but here, no fire would touch them again, and Dream knelt beside the dragon, meeting the single eye that opened to meet his. He could see the iridescent shaded blood on the ground beneath them, indications of how the dragon had injured himself, and the way his one wing was twisted violently, broken in several places thanks to his lunge forward.
"You came for me," Dream said, pressing a hand to the dragon's snout. "How did you know I was here?"
The dragon let out a quiet whimper, but then Dream felt the faintest, smallest brush of magic against his own awareness, and a single word flew to the front of his mind, tinged with so much regret and hurt that he nearly buckled under the weight of it.
'Friend.'
Dream's eyes widened as the brown eye closed in shame. "Hob Gadling." Another quiet whimper escaped the dragon, a confirmation in and of itself. A dragon made, when it had been thousands of years since the last, for no modern human could survive the fires required. But Hob Gadling, a man who would never accept death, would have survived the flames.
"Come," Dream urged, summoning a portal to the Dreaming for them both. "You must recover. This is a story that I require." There was a barely there nod from Hob Gadling, but it was enough. Dream allowed the Dreaming to carry them both home, and they crashed into the throne room, only for Lucienne to hurriedly march out of the library seconds later, shock apparent on her face.
Hob Gadling’s breathing was worryingly shallow, and there was a puddle of growing iridescent blood growing on the marble of the throne room beneath him.
~!~
Dream turned a page idly in the book he was skimming and glanced up at Lucienne as she recounted the latest of the Dreams to have returned upon hearing he had come back to the Dreaming. Almost none were missing now, and the few recalcitrant Nightmares would be collected soon enough. What he decided to do about the Corinthian he had yet to decide, but there was a matter of greater urgency that needed to be addressed.
“Lucienne,” Dream interrupted, watching her snap her mouth shut. “It has been four days since your last update on the state of Hob Gadling. How fares he?”
Lucienne’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “He continues to recover, my lord. I do not know when he will be fit for company, but he recovers.”
Dream frowned. Dragons were impossibly hardy creatures, to know that something should be plaguing Hob to such an extent did not make sense. “I owe him a great boon for his retrieval of my tools and my freedom. Will he see anyone?”
“He would see you, if you asked,” Lucienne said with a faint incline of her head. “I would only ask that you do not remove him from the Dreaming, as yet. I know he cannot stay here permanently, but he is not ready to return to the Waking.”
“What ails him?” Dream asked with a frown.
Lucienne turned her head away. “That is a question you best ask him, I think. It is not my place to answer for him.”
Dream stared after her in confusion as she made her way into the library and decided, all at once, to turn down the nearby hallway, twisting the castle to bring him to Hob Gadling’s room. He should have suspected something was wrong when Hob had not left his room for days on end. Whatever ailed him, to pay his debt, Dream would see him healed. He knocked, firmly, on the door.
When there was a low rumble of assent on the other side, Dream hesitated, his hand on the knob. Was Hob still wearing his dragon form? Though he would have healed much faster as a man? He tugged it open and stepped in, before shutting it behind him. The juvenile dragon was spread out near the window, head tilted longingly into the sunshine. A horrified, twisting thought shot through him.
“Lucienne has informed you that you may leave the castle at any time you wish, hasn’t she?” Dream asked, striding closer to the dragon. “You are not a prisoner, Hob Gadling, you are-” a low, dissenting, angry growl was next, and Dream stopped in surprise at it. Very well, if that was how he wanted to behave. “You need not revert to growls, I can understand you perfectly well, dragon or human.”
‘Go away. It all hurts more now. I am not angry with you, but the pain, it hurts. I snap, without meaning to.’
Hob’s voice was low, and gruff, and Dream could hear the aforementioned pain echoing in it. It was clear that Hob was in a great deal of pain, but from the looks of things, his wings and wounds were healing well, so precisely what kind of pain he meant was what he needed to understand.
“Pain,” Dream repeated. “If you are in pain, I would have you healed. I owe you a great boon, and releasing you from this pain is the least I can do. Allow me to aid you.”
Hob lifted his head and turned to glare at his friend, standing a few feet behind him, but even that small motion was enough to make every part of him ache, his scales pulling, and the rough roil of magic and fire he could barely keep suppressed now pressed at his teeth. It was agony to swallow back down, a whimper escaping him as he managed it, and he pulled his head away from Dream once more.
‘I will become accustomed once more. It takes time. I adapted the first time. Even learned to fly. The agony is normal. But I am a risk to others until I can. Unleashing my fire was a last resort, and now I burn.’
Horror curled through Dream as he understood the full breadth of Hob Gadling’s agony. Without a clan to teach him the ways of other dragons, none had taught him control, how to harness his magic, and how to care for himself. Dream stalked forward, a low growl echoing in his throat as he once more carefully studied the golden, shimmering scales in front of him. Reptiles dragons were not, but they shared characteristics.
The anger was almost enough to call Nightmare forth, but Dream sank his claws into the dry and flaking scales on Hob Gadling’s back and ripped through them, shredding the old scales, yanking them off and away from the fresh scales trying to grow beneath them. Hob Gadling had given a startled cry and scrambled, trying to get away from him, until the second time Dream raked his claws along the length of golden spines on his back.
It took hours, and the dry, dead skin, and hints of old scales fell from Hob in waves, until, at last, Dream stood in front of him, his chest heaving with fury that this dragon, the only one who had ever dared to come for him, had dared to call him friend, had been left without any knowledge of what he was and how to control it. Dream reached out to touch the scales along Hob’s face, tugging off the last of the old skin, unwilling to meet the surprised brown eyes staring at him.
“Shifting must have been agony,” Dream said to himself. “You could likely barely move without pain.” He slid his fingers up the length of Hob’s neck on his lower jaw, before pressing at the two glands that allowed Hob to breathe fire. A concerned rumble passed through the dragon, and Dream massaged both of them, gently stroking over them again and again.
“You are breathing as a human. You must learn to breathe as a dragon,” Dream said, continuing to stroke at the scales that were soft as satin now. “Your fire comes from here. Use your exhale to push it out. With time, you’ll learn to-”
‘I think I understand what I can and cannot do after a few decades as a dragon!’ Hob growled.
“Just as you knew you were in pain because you had not allowed yourself to shed?” Dream challenged, staring the juvenile dragon in the eyes. “I have known dragons for hundreds of thousands of years, Hob Gadling. I would not see you in pain. Now, breathe out and force the first out, stop trying to hold it in.’
Hob made a quiet whimpering growl. ‘I’ll hurt you. I would not hurt you.’
“We are in my realm. You could not hurt me if you attempted to do so,” Dream challenged, stroking his fingers along the scales of Hob’s lower jaw once more. “Breathe out. Feel the fire escape you. I will keep us both safe.”
The first exhale, nothing but a thin stream of smoke escaped, and Dream could feel the weight of the magic grow in Hob’s chest. The second, he could see the flicker of flame and the fear in those beautiful brown eyes. He stepped closer, his voice dipping lower, almost a growl himself. “Do not be afraid for me. Release your flames. Let them go.”
On the third exhale, Dream felt the fire grow, blossom, and then explode into life around them as, at last, Hob breathed fire. It was an easy thing to twist the fire around him, to have it dance around the room, a celebration of power, and he felt something ease in the dragon in front of him, because the next breath out, the flame was even more powerful, flooding the room with vibrant flames that danced around them.
Dream lost track of how many times Hob let himself breathe fire before he collapsed, exhausted, but pleasure radiating from his every scale. It was easy to return the room to the state it had been before, and his ruby pulsed with pleasure at the flames that he could still feel. That had been welcoming, a comfort in a way few other things had been. When was the last time he was warm? Deciding to forgo returning to his throne room for now, Dream allowed himself to be pulled closer to the golden dragon, drifting on the pillow of magical warmth bleeding from Hob Gadling’s skin.
~!~
Dream awoke when Hob Gadling regained consciousness, the dragon abruptly tensing beneath him. It was easiest to refuse to move, continuing to press himself against the inviting warmth of the dragon beneath him. “Do you feel less suffocated by your fire, now?”
‘Yes.’ There was a pointed pause. ‘Why are you helping me? Because I saved you?’
Dream stared out across the Dreaming. How long would he have been trapped in that cage of iron and glass had Hob Gadling not come for him, not captured his tools and done everything his power to free him? Decades more? Centuries? What would have become of his kingdom had he done as much? “You saved many in saving me. It is a debt that you shall have to name a significant reward for.”
‘Don’t want a reward. You needed help. I care. I helped.’ Hob answered, letting out a stream of smoke in answer.
Abruptly, Dream remembered the pain-filled word that Hob had hissed at him in the basement of Burgess’ mansion. Friend. After they had last parted, Hob Gadling had every reason to distrust him, and his word, after such a reaction. “I am helping you for the same reason,” he said, feeling out the words, even as the dragon under him shifted, stiffening in surprise. “You needed help. I care. You are my friend. I helped.”
Hob whined, low and deep in his throat, curling his head away from where Dream did not seem to want to stop resting against him. His weight was non-existent, but the scent of him had curled deep into his chest and he never wanted it to leave again. ‘Friend.’
“Yes,” Dream said. “I was wrong to deny you as such, Hob Gadling.” He stood once more and turned to face the dragon who still lounged by his window. “Will you not shift back? With your fire under control, and your movement no longer restricted, you have that ability.” A low, desperately pleading whine escaping Hob was not what he expected, and Dream took a step closer out of concern.
‘I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so many fucking times. I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck for over a decade. I can, I can change size, but I can’t shift back.’ A tremor went through him. ‘I’ve been told I may have lost the ability to, to shed this form.’
Dream scowled and reached out to touch Hob’s neck once more, the warm scales pulsing under his fingertips. “Whoever told you this is incorrect. You may, perhaps, be cursed, but you are not incapable,” he explained. “Tell me how you were changed.”
Hob shuddered, a rough breath escaping him, leaning into the cool touch of Dream’s hand and the comfort it offered. Friend. Dream had declared himself a friend. ‘Was captured on the battlefield of the first world war. Brought back for experimenting when I was found unconscious, breathing, with a massive hole in my chest. They realized what I was. They tested me, and then, they found a spell to turn me into a dragon.’
Dream felt the full-body shudder and the whine that echoed deep in Hob’s chest before it ever became a vocalization at all. He pressed in closer, spreading both his hands against Hob’s scales, offering his presence as it seemed to be a comfort of some sort.
‘I don’t know how long they burned me for,’ Hob said, shuddering once more, the lack of pain making him nearly loose-lipped as it had been so long since he’d been able to speak without an iron grip on his control. ‘But I heard enough to know that I needed a tether. Something to keep me there while my humanity was ripped away.’ He leaned, just a fraction, into the cool hands pressed against his neck. ‘You were what I thought of, Stranger. The chance to apologize to you. It kept me here, and it helped me survive the fire. When the spell worked, at last, they explained.’
“The tether of a nature they speak,” Dream started, feeling Hob tense and growl, low in his throat. “Is based in only the deepest, and purest feelings. It is a bond that is not easily broken, and it ties two such creatures together, unbreakably so. However, this does not explain why you are trapped.”
Hob shifted uneasily. ‘They understood the nature of my bond to you. They have tied this form to it. I can’t shift back unless my bond is returned.’
Now that Hob had pointed out its existence, it was impossible not to feel the created tether between them, alive and pulsing around them in the Dreaming. A fire that he had welcomed into his very being, willingly, not a day ago in this very room. A bond, returned. Now that Dream could feel it, knew it was there, present and tied to this facet, the floor of worry, fear, love, care, and tenderness washed over him in warm waves, just as Hob’s fire had.
Dream swayed faintly, his fingers pressing tighter against the scales of Hob’s neck. He hummed, the sound resonating low in the room and the bond between them flared brighter with worry, and concern. The flood of fear that he would leave, would abandon Hob was colder than his cage had been and Dream struggled to find the words needed for what he must say, what Hob must hear.
Hob gave a quiet huff against him, startling his attention back from where it had drifted along their bond, sinking into the feelings that he could still feel bleeding from the dragon like an open wound.
‘It’s all right. I miss being human, but being a dragon has its perks. Flying, chief among them.’
Dream could hear the sorrow that tinged those words, though in Hob Gadling’s ever-constant optimism, there was a heavy thread of truth in them. Were this his permanent existence, Hob would find a way to rejoice in it, though without his clan, his loneliness must have been acute in every possible way. No one to teach him, no one to train him, and separated from the only type of life that he had ever known, in constant pain…
A low snarl escaped his throat, and Dream felt Nightmare bursting at the edges of him, threatening to torment and kill those who had put his dragon through such torture. His dragon, who they had sought to torment. His friend, who they had forced into a lonely existence, who they had hurt, again and again.
‘My friend-’
“Shift,” Dream ordered, his voice resonating and echoing in the room. The shadows grew from the base of his coat, reaching and stretching across the floor, even as he remained pressed close to the golden dragon. His dragon. His. Hob would be his. He reached out along the bond and reached for the fire, the warmth that he could feel at the very edges of his fingertips. There was a gasp, from him, from them both, as the bond abruptly flared wide, and Dream tumbled willingly into the avalanche of heat, a hearth for him to hide in, to chase away the chill of all that he was.
“Shift, Hob Gadling,” Dream commanded again, and felt the dragon in front of him tremble, violently. “I’m here. You can shift. You can.” He gave a little tug on the bond, and felt the creature in front of him shudder. “You are shedding a coat that you can put on again whenever you wish. Gently.” It was several seconds of low whining before Dream felt the rapid space displacement that heralded the transformation he’d been pushing for.
A quick flick of his hand, Dream had a cloak made of the dawn to wrap around Hob, covering his nudity easily, tucking the fabric around him, as he met shocked brown eyes that were staring at him. He raised an eyebrow and waited.
“You can feel the bond,” Hob managed, his voice rough and hoarse. He lifted his hand and shook as he clenched the warm cloak tighter around him. “You, that’s you on the other side of it?”
“This facet of myself,” Dream answered, reaching out to comb Hob Gadling’s hair out of his face. “With time, you can become more accustomed to all that I am, but it will take time.”
“Stranger,” Hob croaked. “You, this…”
Dream scowled, displeased. Of course they had yet to rectify the most basic of friendship tenants. “Dream,” he interrupted. “My name, here, and for those close to me, is Dream. Dream of the Endless.”
Hob blinked, his eyes widening slowly. “Dream… of the Endless,” he repeated. There was a strange flutter through the bond, a shy happiness, almost like the reaching out of a hand that had previously been held back. He took a step closer to Dream, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“I will help to teach you,” Dream said, his voice firm. “To shed and don your shift. To control your magic, to stoke your fire. How to care for your scales. Your clan should have taught you these things, but until you find one for yourself, I will.” He cupped Hob’s chin in his palm and tilted him up to look at him, leaning in to press their foreheads together.
A wave of possessiveness shot down the bond and Hob leaned into it, unable to keep a small whine from growing in this throat. “I don’t need a clan if I have you.” He swayed closer, until they were pressed chest to chest, the bond between them wide as an ocean and it was so easy to sink into it. Comforting and cool, a home to return to.
“My dragon,” Dream rumbled, low and possessive. “Stay in the Dreaming with me until you can control your shift? I would not see you stuck in the Waking world.” It would give him time to fashion a proper claim, to ensure that there were none who would touch this dragon, all would know that Hob was his.
“Yours,” Hob answered with a shudder, tipping his chin up a fraction to rub their noses together. “As long as I can return, I will stay for now.”
“I will return you to your world, Hob Gadling,” Dream promised, his voice low and soft. “For every night when you sleep, you shall return here, to my side, and I shall await your presence.”
Hob growled in return to the low pulsing pleasure in the bond and surged up to kiss his friend, daring to take what was so temptingly on offer with the slow blinks and pleased curve of his lips. The bond flared once more, surging with the shared passion and possessiveness from both of them. By the time they broke apart, Hob found they had moved to another room, decorated in almost all black. He turned back to Dream (and the little thrill at the knowledge of the name surged through him) and raised both his eyebrows.
“Come here, my dragon,” Dream demanded, pulling the warmth of Hob Gadling closer.
With a laugh, Hob stepped into Dream’s arms, the fire in him ready to burn out of control once more. Luckily for him though, Dream relished in the heat of him, and Hob let himself go, rejoicing in the impossible reality of a bond returned in full by his dear Stranger, Dream of the Endless.