"And what exactly makes you think this is acceptable, huh?"

The fist glanced off Gideon's shoulder, sending him stumbling into the dirt. A second blow to his stomach folded him over, and he was rendered helpless against the rain of assault descending on him. The weight on his belt disappeared.

"Toss him in with the dragons," The man snapped to the watching thieves. He tossed the coin pouch, now considerably lighter, back to him. "The boy and his useless lump of a dragon get no dinner tonight."

~*~

Ten thousand gold pieces.

Turqion stared at the two copper coins Gideon held in his hand. Master Wake took a cut of all successful heists. The quartermaster took a share to maintain their supplies. A little bit here, a little bit there, and eventually, those two coins were all Gideon had left to add to his meager savings.

"Don't worry about it, Turq," Gideon would say. "A little bit can go a long way. That's what Mother always used to say."

And every time, Turqion would respond: "But how many more 'little bits' can you take? You risk your life every time you pickpocket, every time we make a raid." To which he would receive no answer.

Ten thousand gold pieces.

And Gideon would be free.

~*~

Everything that had gone wrong with their raid that day, had gone very wrong. Finn’s saddle came loose; he was thrown, then trampled when his dragon went down under a spear.

Asher's dragon, discomforted by the sharp bit of his reins, bucked his own rider like a deadweight. And then another dragon, enraged by gods-know-what, torched an entire wagon of supplies until the night stank of ash.

This was all somehow Gideon's fault. He was, after all, supposed to be the stable boy for all these unstable reptiles. How was it his problem if the riders couldn't control their own dragons? Because he was responsible for their wellbeing. And well. They weren't "well" that day.

The growing heat near his elbow woke him from his reverie, and he gave Turqion's nose a gentle nudge. The dragon had fallen asleep, smoke rising from his nostrils. Gideon rubbed the bruise on his arm, the purple welt swollen and angry. The copper coins, warmed by his hands, did little to soothe it.

~*~

His belly made the usual complaint. This Gideon was used to. Master Wake's words were law. He'd had that beaten into him since he was nine.

Light pierced through the locked doors of Turqion's cage. From where he sat, Gideon could see a sliver of the full moon. He wondered what it was like to sleep under it, sheltered by trees, and caressed by wind.

"It's delightful," Turqion murmured. "I miss it."

~*~

When Gideon’s hand slackened in sleep, Turqion nudged the two coins free and set them carefully in the corner of the cage.

One hundred copper coins now.

Too many "little bits" for Turqion's liking.

Illinto

She had watched the disastrous excuse for a heist from afar, having no obligation to dive into the fray herself. The younger dragons acted out, torching up wagons and what have you for the pure thrill of it. It did not turn out well. Her sister had behaved, carrying her rider in and out without issue. She couldn’t say the same for the others, in fact it was rather difficult to watch the unruly behaviour unfold.

Illinto had not bothered to acquire herself a rider, besides there weren’t any spare humans to go around. Her presence was merely graced for the benefit of Dharial. Her sister was more brutish than herself despite being younger by at least a half a century. Their mother had chosen a different sire the second time around, having been dissatisfied with the way Illinto turned out. Dharial was behemoth in size, densely packed muscle in thick limbs with strong wings that could carry her on a week long flight without tiring. Scales a smoke grey, tinges of purple that sometimes showed in the sunlight.

Illinto was proud of her sibling, more so for her prowess in battle than the choice to take on a human rider. It had been so long since they had trusted humans. Sealing themselves away in the rocky mountains, killing any creature that ventured too close to their nesting site. Their numbers were still pitifully low, each new egg was a blessing.

So when Dharial announced she would be joining this rather prickly group of humans, Illinto demanded that she accompany her. She did not trust the humans as readily as her sister did and refused to let Dharial’s naivety be her downfall.

Now, she lay beside her sleeping sister, watching the moon glow from between the bars. This captivity was driving the dragon crazy, she longed to glide through the crisp night air and embrace the stars once again. It had been so long since she had been allowed outside freely, her scales were dull and lifting from her skin. Eyes without a spark, her wings were stiff with disuse.

Upon their arrival, Dharial had been saddled up but with no spare rider, Illinto was left in the dragon holding prisons. Even if they tried to force a human upon her back, she would slash them in half before they could lay a finger on her. One day, Dharial would tire of this life and flee during a raid, but for now Illinto would remain by her side.

She did not sleep, when dawn broke and cast a warm orange light across the jagged rocks she rose to her clawed feet and stretched the ache out of the muscles. Her sibling lay asleep beside her, as did many of the other dragons. In the distance, nearest the wall she spotted Turqion and his human. The closeness some of her brethren had with these people bewildered Illinto.

Callisto

The work was always the same. It had made his muscles strong and his mind painfully numb. Fallen from the grace and elegance of nobility, Callisto was trapped in the repetitive cycle of trying to survive the day. He worked many jobs, but for the biggest chunk of his day, he hacked at the dying trees and lugged them back into the town to sell. It wasn’t very stimulating, but at least he kept his body moving, the churning of his muscles kept the chill from his bones even in the deepest parts of winter.

He had been young when his family had fallen destitute. Almost a man, he had promises of a wondrous life stripped away from him and he was left to fend for himself. His mother had passed soon after their downfall, contracting an illness that didn’t seem to heal no matter the remedy they tried. His father, well, he had fled the night his mother had died. Not a word of farewell, no note, nothing. Simply his missing coat and boots.

Suddenly, Callisto was alone. Painfully alone.

The rickety wooden cart bounced along the uneven first road as Callisto dragged it behind him, hands tight on the handles. He needed to gather as much as he could today, the morning frost had begun and promised the return of winter within the next month. Stock piling dry firewood would be the difference between life and death.

As he raised his hatchet to strike his first tree of the day, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back into his memories. Bang, his tool met the hard wood and he wrenched it free to strike again.

Blessed with the freedom of wealth, his childhood had been perfect. Running around with other noblemen’s children, teasing and playing together from dawn till dusk. Mannerism classes, strategic meetings, learning how to one day replace his father. At the time, everything had been boring apart from the strategy classes. Now that he could sink his teeth into, it required intricate planning and precision and it was addictive. To plan something out and have it work perfectly, he loved it.

Unfortunately, now he was stuck hacking down trees for a living. No war meetings, no dualling, no critical thinking. Only chop, chop, chop. He dreamed of using his mind again, of doing something important. But he had to staunch the hope of ever being more than a labourer. If he dwelled on his hopes and dreams for too long, his chest hurt and he felt the prickling sensation of tears in his eyes. He needed to push down the emotions and nostalgia to keep himself sane.

The tree creaked, a death call before toppling to the ground with a strong thud. The frost had melted in the time it took for him to fell the tree and the sun was warm on his back by the time he finished cutting it into manageable sizes.

That one tree had filled half of his cart, one more small tree and he could take it home. Then he might have time to come out again and get the same again, it would be a productive day.

Gideon

Gideon woke to find himself rested against the thigh of his dragon. He turned over to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of his companion's flank and laid a hand upon the soft silver scales. Out of habit, his mind flashed back to the days of his childhood, when his parents would regal him with stories of the past, the dragonriding warriors they descended from. These past few years had been anything but regal, but nothing beat the exhilaration when Turqion bunched his haunches and launched them both into the air.

A shadow descended over them. Gideon looked up to see Asher standing on the other side of the bars, looking annoyed as ever. "You are to join the training session this morning after you're done with the chores," Asher said. "And I want you to show me how the hell you stop your dragon from throwing you off." Gideon had to admit, that sight had been a pleasure to see yesterday. Asher unlocked the cage door and reached inside to grab him.

"Get off me!" Gideon snarled. Turqion lifted his head, ready to defend him. Gideon made a quick gesture, and the dragon relaxed. "I can pick myself up."

"Then hurry it up. Father's orders."

Gideon murmured a brief word to Turqion, who only harrumphed and returned to his sleep. Must be nice being a dragon, Gideon remarked to himself. Who's the one who has to clean up after you? Asher locked the cage door behind them, preventing the dragon's escape, though Gideon didn't think the lazy silver dragon was even capable of planning such a scheme.

"Do my dragon first," Asher ordered.

"You're not the boss," Gideon retorted. "Stop telling me what to do." To that, Asher's response was to charge him. Gideon was older and stronger than the brat, but Master Wake would have another conniption if his boy was hurt by his hand. Instead, Gideon stepped aside, revealing the bucket he had just dug out of the closet. Asher went crashing into a pile of brooms, rakes, and lye. Ignoring his cries, Gideon set to work. Asher would eventually run out, shouting some taunt that Gideon wouldn't hear.

Wash the remaining feeding buckets and tubs from last night; clean and polish the dragons' equipment until no splinters remained and the leather shone; inventory the supplies they had taken in the raid; and fix anything broken, like some faulty cage doors the dragons had broken. Doing all this only earned him a bed (at Master Wake's discretion, of course). It was better than nothing, he supposed.

Turqion had been a bonus. He wasn't supposed to have a dragon, but for some reason, the small creature with silver scales had chosen him as his rider and refused anyone else.

He was on the other side of the hold now. He stopped in front of one of the newer dragons, whose shadowed scales a contrast to Turqion's iridescent silver.

He called her The Dark One as a joke. They had tried to saddle her once. He hadn't ever heard a creature roar so loudly he not only couldn't hear, but couldn't see either. Since then, Gideon had kept a healthy distance, and Master Wake had her kept at half-rations to avoid another incident. But still, he couldn't help but be enamored by the fascinating creature, as dull and peeling as her scales were. He slipped a dried jerky between the bars. Two, actually, for the quiet one behind her. He grimaced, knowing the siblings were close. They only ever relaxed when they were with each other. One day, Master Wake would find a way to break them apart.

Turqion

Turqion whined when Gideon left the dragon hold for his chores. Some of the dragons still sneered at him becoming a human's obedient pet, but Gideon had been nothing but good to him. He felt sorry for the others having to put up with such brutes for handlers. He stuck a nose through the cage, pulling and spitting at the bars to no avail. Still fireproof.

No dragon was permitted to leave the hold without the Master's permission. Turqion even more so. He never quite understood how Gideon had come under the man's ironfisted authority, or why Gideon even still revered the man. The Master was an unnecessary barrier between Turqion and his human. But then, humans never made any sense. Even though Gideon was his rider, and he was Gideon's dragon, he still belonged to Master Wake. A matter of who found his egg first.

He turned back to gaze at the hold. A pile of rocks. That's all it was. That wouldn't stop him from becoming King of the Hill though.

"O friends!" he cried, leaping upon the tallest mound. He cleared his throat when it came out with a squeak. He had to do this right. He had seen how Master Wake addressed the others, and it wasn't with a squeak. He cleared his throat again, tapping his chest with a paw. And with a full breath, and his whole chest--

"O friends!"—he began the old poem Gideon had once taught him, though it sounded better (to him) with all his embellishments—"dragons, and all dragonkind, lend me your dragonly ears..."

Illinto

Being the first to rise, having never truly slept, Illinto watched the loud approach of one of the humans. They were all harsh, brash and obnoxious. Heavy-footed imbeciles, however these imbeciles had imprisoned her rather effectively. At least Dharial could make brief escapes into the outdoors, she was not only imprisoned but chained to the group with a hefty iron clamp around her hind legs. It was long enough to walk around, but she couldn’t reach the other side of the hold.

In silence, she watched Asher interrupt the sleeping human Turqion was so enamoured by, slinging barbed words through the metal bars that separated them. She would almost feel pity for the man, but he was one of those that kept her cooped up in this hellscape, so for that she would happily watch him be yelled at. Even if he was one of the nicer ones, he was still a human.

It was a similar event every sunrise, the man would be ordered about, scolded and bullied. Then he would clean, feed and prepare for the training sessions of the other dragons. Never her.

It still gave Illinto a sick satisfaction to remember the horror stricken faces of those men when they attempted to throw that saddle upon her back. Dharial had scolded her for causing such chaos, but Illinto didn’t care. It did mean she ended up locked away, which wasn’t exactly what she was aiming for. She would have to deal with the consequences, either way she would outlive these little humans and their measly lifespans.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the scent of food slicing through the mildew. Craning her neck to look in front of herself, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion towards the outstretched hand. Clutched between his fingers were two thin strips of meat. Behind her, the long blade of her tail lifted from the ground, it was scratched and chipped from being caught on the cramped rocks in her prison. It could still easily kill a man in one idle swipe.

Illinto lowered her narrow maw down towards the human, hunching her shoulders with the movement. It didn’t smell like anything foul, simply meat. There was human-scent clinging to it, but everything was like that here. She let the man stand there a moment longer than necessary before bellowing out a hot puff of air from her nostrils. The force of the air perhaps a little enhanced purely for entertainment of watching his hair fly back with the power of it.

Sliding out her slender teeth, they flexed forwards before her mouth opened completely. It unnerved dragons, so she could only imagine what these humans thought of her.

Taking the small scraps of meat between her teeth, she turned quickly around. The pale expanse of her malnourished spine caught the light for the briefest of moments before she slinked back towards Dharial and placed the meal gently before her sister’s nose.

It took no time for Dharial’s purple flecked eyes to dart open and spot the meat, tongue snaking out to take it into her mouth and gulp it down in one go.

Illinto watched, sitting back on her haunches, just about to turn back and observe the human once more when Turqion’s voice boomed around the cave.

She winces, spines along her back pricking with startlement before she rose to her full height and cast him a seething look.

“Far too energetic, that one.” Illinto muttered, her voice still as ethereal as the day they caught her. The echoing of her words not only from the cave but its natural cadence.

Dharial snorted, padding up beside her sister, completely contrasting the tense musculature of Illinto in the casual way she held herself.

“He’s young, younger than me and that is saying something. What can you expect when there are no proper guardians for him here. He can just do as he pleases.” Dharial was right, Illinto twisted her neck to look back at the metal bars to where Gideon was working still. The pair of them didn’t particularly have a guide in life, or at least a decent one.

Illinto

The dragon narrowed her eyes as she watched the young male arch his neck and try to recite whatever rubbish his human had taught him. Just as he went to say the next line, the chain around his leg was pulled, sending the poor thing tumbling from the rocks he had conquered to start his poem recital. Whilst he was irritating, she didn’t exactly think that was necessary.

However, she was not going to get involved. These dragons were broken creatures, with short-tempers, cruel words and even crueler bites. Despite being amongst the eldest of this group, Illinto was no match for the brute strength some of the youngsters possessed, at least not when she was confined to the cave’s interior. If she could just get outside, she could enjoy the night sky.

Even with the failed heist, she had been forced to attend on foot, wings pinned against her body by a leather contraption the humans had only managed to secure onto her after threatening Dharial. Her sister called her an idiot for obeying, all they would have done to her was a mere flesh wound.

She looked away once Turqion had pulled himself up from the floor, watching as Dharial went to scoop up the second slither of meat Gideon had given her. Just then, Turqion’s voice was suddenly very close. It made Illinto whirl her head around, eyes narrowed in immediate suspicion of the male. Ignoring the puff of hot air that greeted her, she dropped her maw open and prepared to give back some snide comment about behaving and he would have his own, then Dharial piped up.

“You can have it.” The grey female stood up from the floor, flicking her foreleg to send the jerky piece skittering across the stone towards the male. “But stop antagonising the others, all they do is complain. It gets tiring to listen to.” Dharial’s voice was gruff, like a roiling ocean in a storm, in comparison to the ghostly essence of her sibling.

Now at her full height, she was almost double the size of Illinto with a wingspan to match. “You’ll get your human in trouble again if you keep poking at their tempers.” With that the big female turned to tend to her grooming, picking at old scales.

Illinto snapped her jaws shut as she watched Turqion take the jerky, only mildly irritated that Dharial had given it away. After all, that piece was technically hers, she had given it to her sister.

As if the morning couldn’t be any more draining, she heard the cacophony of Asher’s voice returning to the hall outside the prison. Still cast in the shadow of the cage, she watched the two humans with mild disinterest.

They were posturing at each other in some sort of strange silent vying for dominance, it was clear who had the higher social standing but if Gideon wanted to change it she couldn’t understand why he didn’t just kill him.

That’s what dragons do. If you wanted a higher social standing, you challenged the dragon that held that position, if you won then congratulations. If you lose, expect death, exile or demotion.

“Could he hurry up with these saddles, it’s dreadful in here.” Dharial mumbled, glancing away from her grooming to look at Gideon before quickly shooting her sister an apologetic look. She would be trapped in here whilst they got momentary respite of seeing outside. Alas, she had been out last night, perhaps she could savour that memory while the day continued on.

Illinto gave no reaction, instead she moved to the front of the cage, letting the mild light illuminate her white head, the rest of her body remaining in the shadows. She spied the back of Asher walking away, the soft click of his footsteps fading into the distance.

If only the humans did not have this strange metal, she could escape with ease and leave the men dead in the dust. Her eyes locked onto Gideon, watching the twitch of muscles and steady rise and fall of his shoulders.

Gideon

They would be trying The Dark One today. Gideon grimaced, rubbing the ear that had taken most of the damage. He had no idea why that reclusive creature even bothered showing up if she was so adamant against cooperating, but Master Wake had laid down the law. If she didn't end up working out, they would have her killed. Why continue wasting resources?

A scowl crossed Gideon's face as he heaved another saddle into the cart. Dragons had been extinct until Master Wake came across a few hatchlings years ago. Instead of using them for raids, why not make more dragons? Kings and nobles would pay out entire treasuries for such rare creatures. He'd be one to know. The Carona House had once been famed dragonhandlers. Their last dragonrider had died generations before he had. His name alone was the only reason Master Wake tolerated him. Supposedly, dragons were supposed to flourish under his care, but beating and chaining them up wasn't helping his task. Master Wake was simply too scared to let them run free.

Master Wake's voice boomed from down the hall. "Gideon!"

"Coming!" He dumped the rest of their equipment in a hurry and wheeled it to the front.

Turqion

“Yes! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Turqion tossed the jerky in the air, singing his thanks before snapping it down whole. Shame Gideon had to spend money on it, but Turqion would never refuse food. Which was why he had it withheld from him so often.

"One day, we'll get out of here and we'll have all the food you can eat!" Gideon had said. Of course, that had been years ago when Gideon was optimistic about paying off the familial debt. Now, they had a plan. In one of the next few raids, they would take that chance to leave, and they would fly elsewhere, somewhere where he could have dragon friends, and somewhere Gideon could be very far away from raids and raiding. If he had wings, why not use them? Instead of staring longingly from a cage, he’d fly to the mountains himself.

His wings stretched wide in excitement, muscles trembling after being cramped in sleep.

He sent a puff at Illinto and Dharial again. "So tell me. Tell me, tell me. You guys are from mountains, right? What're they like? Is it true it snows all the time? What's snow like? And what food is there to eat? It's gotta be better than old cows…"

He broke off when the doors to the hold re-opened. Master Wake and his group of raiders and Gideon behind them with their equipment. They fanned out, each to their own dragons, with Master Wake, Gideon, and one other person approaching him. Out of habit, Turqion lowered himself to the ground respectfully, eyes averted and wings tucked into his sides.

"Good boy," said the Master, rapping Turqion's head with the flat of his heavy palm. “Now, Gideon. You won’t like my plan, but there’s no other way. You’re a terrible thief. A worse fighter. Turqion’s strength is wasted on you.”

Turqion blinked. Did Master Wake really say what he did?

"Turqion will be re-assigned to the newbie."

"What?" Gideon blurted.

"What?" said Turqion, wings twitching.

Master Wake didn't stop. "If you want to ride, you can figure out how to work with that bitch dragon over there." He gestured to Illinto, who looked less pleased than he or Turqion combined, then pushed Turqion's saddle into the new recruit's hands.

"Now, get going, you stupid dragon," Master Wake snarled, looping a hand around Turqion's collar and dragging the reluctant dragon to his new rider.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Gideon storm up to the Master.

"No. Take your anger out on me if you want. I can take it. I can take being ordered about. I can take being locked in with the dragons. See, they tolerate me, not you, that's why you're still keeping me around. If you want me to keep being your stable boy"—he snatched the saddle out of the recruit's hands—"don't touch my fucking dragon. I don't want you breaking him."

Everyone went silent, save for the other dragons and their clicking chains. Gideon never dared to speak to anyone like that before, much less the Master himself. Without a second glance, Turqion hurried after Gideon and out of the hold to the training hall.