#huehuehue kimchay childhood bestfriends trope

[wiccawrites]

Dragon!Porsche, the deity who has been guarding a perilous mountain range for almost a thousand years now. He's bound to these mountains – the result of a curse he placed on himself centuries ago, when his own foolishness led to the death of his own brother.

Porsche keeps to himself; is careful that the occasional caravan of traders or group of bandits doesn't know he's there. He does send his pet tigers after the bandits sometimes, if he sees they're the especially bloodthirsty kind who won't spare innocent lives but he makes sure his presence is undetected.

Solitude is his penance.

He's spending another evening watching the stars when he hears ruckus coming from a nearby pass. There is screaming, but not the terrified kind that Porsche has gotten used to. Instead, it sounds like an argument.

"I can't let you do this!"

"How did you even follow me? I took the fastest stallion here!"

"Would you please stop changing the topic? Your Highness. You seriously cannot be trusting some half-crazed old man's advice on how to save the kingdom."

Kingdom?

Porsche knows there's a human settlement on the other side of these mountains. Or at least, it had been a settlement centuries ago. He and Porchay used to slip into their human forms and visit there, under the guise of travelers.

Was that settlement the same kingdom these two humans were referring to? It could be. The number of traders passing by these mountains had grown significantly over the centuries.

Out of curiosity, Porsche follows the sound of their voices.

"If it can save the kingdom, I'll take advice regardless of who it comes from."

"What if it doesn't work? You'll bleed out and die!"

"I've instructed Arm to distribute rations to our people. Ships and caravans are ready. Pete will lead our men. Kim has already planned an escape route that will guarantee the survival of most of our people."

Porsche is close enough that he can see two figures -- a man and what sounds like a boy barely breaking into adulthood. The man has his back turned to Porsche but the fine quality of his clothes are certainly fit for a royal. His broad frame hides the face of the person he's talking to from Porsche's line of sight.

Porsche is close enough that he can hear the man's voice grow soft.

"It will be difficult, but I trust my brother to lead our people. He'll take care of you, so please look after him for me too."

"No. I won't do it. No. Please, Your Highness. Please don't do this. Please. You can escape with us."

"The moon is almost at it's peak. You should go."

That it is.

The moon is full tonight and she lends her light to the darkness. It's thanks to her that Porsche sees the blade glisten in the man's hands, hidden behind his back.

The boy tries to plead some more, but he runs out of time.

As soon as the moon rises to its highest point in the sky, the man pushes the boy away. He turns around, slices his palm with the dagger and lets his blood drip into the earth before turning the knife towards himself.

The metallic scent blood fills the air and Porsche looks on in regret as he hears familiar words uttered into the night before the man finishes what he'd set out to do.

The thing about being nigh immortal is being able to witness the stories about you turn into tales, which then turn into lore, that somehow evolves into a legend. To this man's credit, he does have his facts right.

Had Porsche been a weaker deity, a selfless blood sacrifice made at the height of the full moon would have bound him.

But Porsche is much more powerful than that.

He watches as the man falls to the ground, a pool of his own blood already beginning to form around him.

"P'Kinn!"

The man's companion rushes to his side and Porsche freezes in place as he sees tears flow down the boy's face.

No. It can't be.

Porsche is stepping closer to get a good look of the boy's face before he can even think about throwing a glamor on himself. He steps on a branch that snaps loud enough for the boy to look up, red-rimmed doe eyes the exact same as they had been nine hundred years ago.

"Please," the boy's voice wavers as he begs, completely oblivious to the fact that Porsche had never been unable to deny him anything since they were born. "Please save him."

Without even thinking about the consequences – the bond he'd be forming with a virtual stranger, the life force that he'd be sharing with someone who he wasn't even sure was worthy saving, the target he'd be placing on all their backs if the wrong people found out – Porsche takes the dagger and gives in to his brother's request.

(Later, when the three of them are safely in Porsche's home, the man he'd saved wakes up. His name is Kinn, and he is the king of the relatively small but prosperous kingdom nearby. There is an invasion brewing and all plans of negotiation have failed.

"They will need to pass through these mountains if they want to get to us. Please, protect us."

"Done."

"You won't ask for anything in return?"

Porsche holds up his hand, shows Kinn the fresh scar on his palm.

"You've already paid the price. You're a king, aren't you? The ritual you performed binds you to me. As I am bound to these mountains, so shall you be."

"You're saying I'm your slave and I can't leave this place," Kinn says grimly. Porsche nods, lets him assume the worst; hopes this interpretation of the bond will keep Kinn as far away from him as possible . "For how long?"

"This is not a bond that can easily break."

"Will you keep protecting the kingdom?"

Porsche sneaks a glance at Kinn's attendant. The boy called Chay, who was currently napping beside one of Porsche's tigers.

"Sure, why not?"

"Then so be it.")