agoodyarn | an arrangement (for jon)

an arrangement (for jon)

There is an arrangement between the people of this land.

No one knows how long the arrangement has been going and no one knows when it will end. There've been leaders who said that it was archaic, ridiculous, that more than likely, there isn't even a dragon at all; those who are left out as sacrifices either die or leave to another place that still wants them. But in the end, the arrangement is always honored and the price is always paid.

The crops are healthy.

The kingdom is peaceful.

The people live long, fulfilling lives.

It's never been a problem, of course, because there's always a princess. Always. There are some who think that the lineage has just adjusted that way, to the magic, because it's always been simply done: the first born is a girl and the second a boy. The firstborn is offered and disappears and the second rules. This is how it goes.

Except this time, Prince Jon is born a year or two before Prince Timothy. And the question becomes what to do. And how to do it. And whether this will honor the agreement. Which is silly, really, because the agreement had never actually said anything specific about a princess. It hadn't been specified.

All the same, as the date had approached, there'd been increased scholarship but mostly to no avail. There's only one option for this, so says that is how Prince Jon ends up tied to a stake in the middle of nowhere, supposedly for the dragon.

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They'd never hidden it from him, the fate of the firstborns. He remembered their father solemnly telling him of his older sister. Of the sacrifice she'd made for the kingdom. He remembered the change in the way his little brother had looked at him, when he was old enough to know what that meant.

Tim had been the one who had learned to rule at their father's side, to be charismatic and diplomatic and bold. Jon had grown up quietly, for all the usual furor of the castle, mostly with his grandmother and the scholars. When he'd asked, they'd shown him everything they had on the agreement.

It wasn't much.

The histories said it had always been a princess. So did some translations of the original agreement, and Jon seized on these as a youth, but when he was older, when he could read the old tongue himself, he knew better. Every firstborn of every king. His aunt. Him. And someday, Tim's daughter or son.

It had been Tim, of course, who'd spoken loudest against letting Jon go, long angry arguments with their parents, with the scholars, and eventually with Jon. But he'd been the one to come with Jon to the hillside.

"Last chance to run," he'd told Jon.

"After all this time, do you really think I'd leave when I'm about to find out the actual truth?" was Jon's answer. He'd practiced it, and was glad it came out without a quaver. As if it wasn't already too late, the captain of the guard respectfully tying the knots around his wrists.

Tim stayed as long as he could, until the evening light turned blue. But now night's fallen, and it's only Jon and the clear steady torch left atop the tall stake at his back, filling the clearing with gold.

There's no noise to the approach. It comes in the darkest, blackest hour of the night, and it comes silently at first. The only indication that someone or something is there is the tug on the ropes and the way they break under a clean slice.

Then there's the voice, soothing and low... and massive, right behind him.

"Close your eyes. I won't hurt you."

And then there's the feel of three massive solid bars curling around his body.

Close your eyes is a hard order to obey. If it weren't for the feeling of unreality, and the fatigue that's set into his bones from his hours of waiting, he couldn't have. Still, he stiffens as the shapes wrap around him, one hand lifting before it can be caught against him.

That's fine. The voice doesn't speak again, but the faintest light from the stars shows that the shapes around him are great rounded claws that catch the light with their golden sheen.

Then he's being lifted up, higher and higher, until they're higher than the highest tower in the castle. They're moving, though, flying through the air, just below the clouds. It's a little colder up here, but there's a warmth to grip around him keeping his core warm.

They travel for about ten minutes before they're gliding back down towards the ground, the sound and the scent of the ocean gentle in the air. It's dark, so very dark on this moonless night, but the mouth of the cave is limned in starlight. He's put down.

"Go in. I'll join you shortly."

The entire flight, Jon is still, all but rigid, his whole being focused on two things. First: that the claws of the creature holding him are each larger than his entire arm. And the second following on that: he isn’t sure if something so large would even notice if he fell. The golden claws don’t offer much in the way of purchase, but he holds tight all the same. By the time they land, his arms are trembling and not from the chill. He straightens himself, staring at the mouth of the cave for a moment without moving, and then turns abruptly around to face the voice.

What he faces is too large to hide in the darkness, its shifting, floating coils moving shapes in the darkness that catch the light on the edge of each silver scale. The head is nowhere near him, turned elsewhere, but that gives Jon a good look at the massive maw, big enough to devour him in one bite. It turns to him and the eyes focus on him, but there's no hunger in them, no malice. Instead, there's a silent, gentle 'shoo shoo' motion.

The voice, when he speaks, is still gentle. And slightly amused.

"I'll be in in a moment. Go ahead."

Edited 2021-12-16 15:36 (UTC)

There’s a small, inarticulate sound in Jon’s throat when that immense head turns to him, his mouth too dry to make more sound than that. The shape beyond is too large to make sense of, at least by starlight.

He looks at the cave, and up at the- the dragon again.

“Come into my parlor, said the very large spider to the fly,” he managed, not quite under his breath, as he half-turned, heading into the mouth of the cave without quite turning his back on the dragon until he had to.

"Why would I want to kill you inside my home where you'd leave a mess? I could do that over the ocean."

Very matter-of-fact as he pads along behind Jon, shrinking a little to fit into the cave opening until he's about the size of a bear. But even as he does, a faint luminescence begins around him, blue as the ocean to light the way through the cavern.

"You have questions, I'm sure."

Edited 2021-12-16 19:51 (UTC)

"A few." His tone is dry, if not as steady as he'd like. The light helps, since he can't help but stare, only glancing away to make sure of his footing.

"What's the point of all of this?"

“For you or for me or for everyone else?” He asks as they keep walking. The cave is warm, not uncomfortably so. The walk is pleasant enough.

"For you." He's studied the alleged benefits to everyone else for years. For himself, not a question he'll ask.

"Companionship," he says as he keeps walking; there's some light coming from the distance and the dragon swirls happily as they near his home.

"What did you think it was?"

"There have been a lot of theories. That you- that you eat us. Or use us in some ritual."

'Companionship' was not at all on the list of theories.

"It's not really a ritual," he says as he slides into the air, shrinking smaller to float over him to lead the way, "but it is part of the magic that keeps your kingdom prosperous. And it started... much differently."

He pads forward, getting bigger as he leads into a much bigger cave. There were gentle candles that flare up and brighten as he walks in, and a great deal of others light as they enter to reveal the room.

The cave is not full of gold and jewels or art or treasures. Instead, half the cave is a lovely, beautiful, almost magical looking pool. The other half is crystals that faintly shine in the darkness and that reflect the lights from the candles. There's one big cushion far in the back away from the water and a few bones off to one side of what is probably cattle, cleaned and somewhat neately pushed to one side. There is also, surprisingly, some human sized couches and chairs and cushions, as well as a few bookshelves near the entrance to another section of cave.

"It's simple if you think about it."

"I doubt it," says Jon under his breath, taking a few steps away from the dragon's side as he looks around at the room. The bones get a hard look, but he's quick to note their size. His gaze catches on the shelves, but he doesn't approach them, instead standing beside the water's edge, an arm wrapped around his chest.

"Is my aunt Gertrude here, somewhere?"

That comes with a soft chuckling sound as he floats up and over to the cushion, shaking his head as he turns to look at Jon. There's paths through the cave that lead to all of the major areas. The place is clearly made for someone to walk through as easily as one might fly.

"Gertrude left some weeks ago, just before winter broke," he says honestly, "and she was more than ready to go. She's always felt a little restricted even with our trips and activities. Your presence gives her freedom to live the rest of her life as she wishes."

A dip of his head as he settles on the cushion.

"Rest assured I gave her enough gold to enjoy the rest of her time."

He looks back at the entrance, shoulders still stiff. He's not sure he knows how to unwind, at this stage.

"A few weeks ago, I still hadn't made my decision. If I would come," he says, equally honest. "My father left it up to me."

He lifts his head from the cushion and turns towards the table and other furniture. If Jon looks now, there's food and drink laid out for him there, and plenty of it.

"That is your decision. And your father's decision. But her time had been served."

It hadn't really been a decision. Not when he'd done his reading, compared the history of their kingdom to every one around theirs. If the legend and the agreement were true, and if it didn't matter that he wasn't the traditional daughter, there wasn't any other choice he could have made. But he'd explored the thought as if it were a choice.

"If I hadn't come, what would have happened?"

He tilts his head a few times before trotting over towards the food and drink. Jon had been out in the elements for the whole night. He should eat!

"My blessing would have faded without a focus of royal blood." He looks to Jon. "Your family is tied to the kingdom itself, your blood the lifeblood of the country. The kingdom prospers through my bond with one of you. Without a focus, that good fortune is more diffused and less helpful. Less powerful."

Edited 2021-12-18 04:57 (UTC)

Following him to the table, Jon's more interested in the fact that the food wasn't there before than he is hungry.

"Do you know how little we know about this? We have second-hand stories and old legends. The oldest writing we have of the agreement itself is from two generations after it happened. When- when no princess was born, this time, it took the scholars years to stop panicking."

“…they could have left a note. Or asked me. I come whenever someone stays in that spot for long enough.”

He doesn’t sound surprised but he does sound faintly amused.

Jon rubs a hand across his face, mostly to hide the stunned little chuckle he can't quite stifle. A note.

"Might have been nice to know."

“That has never changed. Your castle should keep better records.”

He seems to consider something before he stretches up and starts shifting form into something… something almost like a man, except the antlers and fangs and claws remain.

“Is this… easier?”

Edited 2021-12-18 05:41 (UTC)

"It's been over-" Jon stops, his hand still over his mouth as he watches the transformation, eyes round.

"... I- Honestly, I'm not certain," he says earnestly. "Yes, maybe." This is a lot.

“Over- you were saying something”

He moves to sit.

“I was told it’s uncomfortable to eat while someone’s just watching.”

"It's been over three hundred years," he finishes. Unfolding a little, he obligingly takes the opposite seat, looking at the dishes spread out between them.

"... What made all of this?"

"A little more than that. The first..." he lets that settle in the air before he continues, "was here his entire life. The rest have gone when their duty was done."

He looks out over the food before turning to Jon.

"I made the food. I only took it out from where it was so you could eat it. I didn't want to make you wait while I cooked after what you'd had to endure."

After a little more pause, Jon serves himself from some of the closer plates. He isn't hungry. Dread's claws still have a good grip, though the questions are helping. But the food is warm, and the wait was long and cold.

"Thank you. There was a feast, before we- left. But I wasn't able to eat very much."

“That’s usually the case,” he says with a nod as he makes a portion for himself of, well, mostly meat.

“You’ll have to tell me what you like.”

"I can cook," he says quietly. "I enjoy it."

“Then I’ll have to bring you things to cook,” he says with a dip of his head. “I didn’t want to assume. And you won’t have to cook every time. We can share that.”

He nods in return, watching the dragon thoughtfully. "So I will be here for about thirty years... as your companion. What are my- what will that time look like?"

"What do you want your time to look like?"

The tone says it hadn't even occurred to him that Jon wouldn't be making decisions for himself.

"What do you enjoy?"

Jon sits back in his chair, still fidgeting with his fork, and glanced aside at the shelves.

"Scholarship. I've spent half my life in the library." But he'd never bothered to cultivate any other hobby, really. He didn't expect to have time for one.

"I have some books. Gertrude liked them as well. But we can go to the cities and find more."

He leans on one arm.

"You should probably look through what's here, first. Gertrude and the others have left most of their collections."

He nods, slowly pulling his gaze back. "Do I have any responsibilities here?" Since asking it obliquely hadn't worked.

He blinks.

"Do you want responsibilities?"

A short huff of breath, and Jon sets his fork down, hands clenching together instead.

"I want a direct answer. I don't know what to expect here. That I've lived this long- that's already half a surprise. You talk like I'll be free to do as I wish, and travel, and eventually leave, but none of my predecessors have so much as communicated with the kingdom after being taken."

He lets his hands settle in his own lap under the table, keeping the claws out of sight. He watches Jon as he speaks and at the end, he nods.

"Would you want to talk to people who sold you, sight unseen, for your country's good fortune?"

A pause before he adds.

"And how many of them do you think worried what else they would be asked to do, to give up, if it was known that they were alive? Most of them, as you say, were women."

He leans back and folds his arms.

"You seem to think I'm your jailer, and that I hold your country's fate in my hands as a game. But it couldn't be further from the truth." He bows his head. "I continue this bargain out of love for the first prince, and those I have loved since. If no offering was made, I would accept the choice of your king and depart."

"I'm not-" Jon exhales, forcing his hands to relax somewhat. "I'm not trying to be accusing. I'm just trying to understand. To- to know how to adjust my expectations." He sighs, looking aside.

"I know my aunt didn't have a choice. My father told me about her, about how angry she was. He wanted to make sure I had the choice, but he couldn't-" He shakes his head, with a tight smile. "He named me 'Given,' after all. He said it was my decision, but I always knew I had a responsibility. That it mattered. That my- my going would almost certainly mean more to our people than my brother's whole reign."

He started to fold his arms, and then consciously unfolded them, trying to relax his posture.

"I haven't, until tonight, had any way to think of you as a person."

"And I'm not trying to be defensive. But you can't know things until I tell you them. If you're to know me as a person, as I intend to know you, things should be made clear to you."

He dips his head again.

"All those who come here, forced or no, understand responsibility. As do I. But it should be chosen."

Jon nods, and for a moment, he watches him quietly. And then he begins to eat.

"Can you tell me about the first prince?"

He looks up from the food, and there's something softer in his face at that.

"What would you like to know about him?"

"Anything. I don't even know his name." There's apology in his voice - it's wrong, he knows, that he doesn't. "The histories say it's always been women."

“His name was Tetsu,” he explains softly, “his mother was from another land, one far from here. It was her offerings that led me here. She asked a dragon to bless her first born son and I was near enough to hear her request. Everyone thought her crazy to call attention from something like a dragon, but in her homeland, we’re revered.”

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an arrangement (for jon)

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