#(won't tag the others individually since they're not as prominent)

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

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Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly. 

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

-

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…