Chapter Text
The nest looked entirely barren. Not an egg nor a shell sat in the tangle of branches, meaning only one thing. Tommy was too late. Again! He stood and stared, hoping for even a trace that he wasn't. That he had a chance of getting his dragon that year, instead of having to wait again.
But no.
Of course not.
Tempora sat just above the nest, watching his shoulders sag and eyes wet with tears with a gentle golden gaze. "I'm sorry, littlest." she sighed, lowering herself back into the nest. "Next year."
"You say that every time!" Tommy gasped, more than fed up with the world. Tempora looked at him with only sympathy- what else from a mother of so many- and pressed her muzzle lightly into his hair. "I just-" he stopped himself, choking back tears. Frustration was replaced with crushing disappointment as he fell into the she-dragon's embrace.
Her neck wove around him, her arm cradling him gentle as a mother should be. She hummed softly, her chest vibrating with the sound, calming Tommy's frayed mind. He sighed, pulling back from the dragon. "I'll try to keep one for you next year, I will." Tempora promised, like she hadn't promised the same thing for years before.
He'd be ten next year. This was his last chance to get his dragon ,and he had missed it. Just like he had every year for the past five. He left the nursery, receiving sympathetic looks from the mother dragons present. Myst gave him a soft nudge when he passed, which he returned with a gentle pat on her velvety nose.
"If it isn't the bondless freak!"
"Fuck off, Percy." Tommy snapped back. The boy was his age, nine-and-a-bit, and had bonded with a hatchling at five, the first year they were allowed to try.
"Or what? You'll send your dragon after me?" Percy jeered, a cruel grin spread across his face. His dragon grinned from their place on his shoulder, puffing smoke at Tommy in mockery.
Tommy turned away and left, heading for the children's home at the edge of town- far away from the nursery, and far away from the new hatchlings bonding with their people. The town had always made him miserable. The moment he was left without a hatchling was the moment he was labelled an outcast. No one wanted to even look at anyone without a dragon.
It was a miracle they hadn't exiled him, though he thought that would change the day he turned ten. They had given him chance after chance, year after year, twice every year, and now, after the Winter hatch, he'd have no chances left. He'd be ten at the time of the Summer Hatch, and he already knew he wouldn't be chosen, so he decided right then and there he would give up.
Summer was no different. The sun shone, the hatchlings sang and chirped and danced, rushing from the nests to meet the children. Five, six, seven-year-olds raced in a cheering mass into the nursery. Some hatchlings scrabbled eagerly from their nest, some leapt into the open arms of children, some clung to the mother dragons' tails and made frightened cheeps and squawks until the right child came by to find them.
Tommy stood by Tempora's nest, watching her clutch disperse to the children. Not one of the hatchlings even gave him a glance, all falling in bond with a younger child. He was ten. He was too old. He had no more chances.
"I'm sorry-"
"Save it, Tempora." he huffed. He had come to terms with the fact he was an outcast when he was seven and still hadn't been chosen by Winter Hatch. Every other kid in the town had a dragon by age seven, at latest eight, but he was ten. And ten-year-olds were only given one more chance before they were deemed unable to bond.
"Try another nest, Tommy, there's bound to be one." Tempora suggested with sadness heavy in her tone. She didn't believe her own words, but Tommy followed her advice anyway. She was the oldest and wisest mother dragon, he would be even more a fool not to follow her advice.
No other nest had a hatchling for him, most of the clutches had chosen already, and no one left wanted to even look at him. He couldn't blame them, he honestly felt disgusting about even being there again. His hair, once golden and bright, now matted and filthy. His eyes, sky-coloured when he was young, had dulled to a hopeless grey. He had no chance. Never had, so he decided to simply leave. Better to leave now than be exiled later.
"Tommy?" Myst watched him pass again, her eyes shining a bright blue like his once did.
"I'm going." he didn't look up, he couldn't. He didn't want the young mother to see the despair in his eyes, nor the tears threatening to spill.
She only looked away and let him pass. He knew, she knew, they all knew, they'd never see each other again after that day. The hatchlings had been bonded, either with children, or with caretakers that would one day adopt them out to the townspeople. So, he trudged back to the children's home, ignoring Percy and his friends' taunts and jeers, and their dragons' mocking hisses and smoke. Ignoring the scornful stares and pitying stares from adults. Ignoring everything until he was in his room and packing a bag.
He didn't own much, but it was enough to fill his backpack. Two changes of clothes, pyjamas, a few snacks, and a bag of gold coins. And his favourite stuffed toy- a cow he lovingly named Henry. Now it was a waiting game. Waiting for the village to kick him out Or waiting for the chance to sneak out. Whichever came first.
The forest was cold, despite the summer sun beaming down over the trees. Leaves tumbled with the breeze, drifting to settle on the stream, washed away by the current, flowing into the river and away to the ocean. Tommy watched with a dead face. Red cheeks, and sore eyes. The tears had only just dried, and now he watched the river flow towards the ocean, or a lake, whichever came first.
His bag sat beside him, tipped over but secure. Henry leaned against it, staring with his one button eye at the flowing water. Fading sunlight danced across the ripples, blinding Tommy the longer he looked at it. He didn't care. No one did.
"Why's everyone so strung up on having a dragon anyway?" he asked his toy, whipping around to face it. Henry stared at him and said nothing. Of course. "It's so stupid! And why are the hatchlings so picky with older kids? Older kids show their personalities better, so why don't the hatchlings like them more than the little shitty ones?" he continued, building up more frustration in his chest.
The constant flow of the river starting to get irritating. The rustling leaves droned on above him. Bugs buzzed around his ears. Fish splashed the surface of the water. Little animals shuffled around in the leaf litter.
Tommy's fist closed tight around a stone on the bank. He let out a scream, hurling eth stone into the water. The splash was small, but the throw was a good one. He was damn good at throwing the things, getting plenty of practice when Percy got too annoying, or Miriam couldn't shut up. He pictured Percy's smug face now, hurling another stone into the water, imagining the boy crying for his mommy when it smashed his nose for the third time in a week. Tommy was the sole reason Percy always had a band-aid strapped across his nose and he found it hilarious.
He found it hilarious that someone so smug and uptight could be made to cry for his mommy with a single rock. Not even a big rock, just a pebble Tommy easily bruised his fragile little face with. There was some sick satisfaction in hurting the pompous dick. Something about hearing someone so overly confident in himself sobbing- begging- for mercy, was so thrilling. So gleeful.
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet snuffling sound. He turned away from the river, quickly locating the source of the sound under a leafy fern just under the treeline. He crept forwards, couching low to hear the sound better. He was met with a panicked squeak and the tiny snout of a hatchling. Hissing furiously at him.
A tiny hatchling, wings flared, tail lashing. Fins down their spine, ending at the tip of their tail. Twisting silver horns, and night-dark eyes. Glistening blue scales, almost iridescent green in the setting sunlight, and a white belly bordered with black. And ribs. Their ribs showed clear under their scales. They were too small to even be alive, looking like they had only hatched that day.
"Aww, hey, little guy." he cooed, pressing his chin to the ground, ignoring the painful way the stones dug into his skin. "Are you all alone as well?" he asked, feeling a sudden wave of sympathy.
The hatchling was too little to catch prey. They would be swept away and drowned in the currents if they tried, or they'd starve. They were a runt. The smallest hatching Tommy had ever seen, which was probably why they had been abandoned and left to slowly die. Alone, afraid, and... Just like Tommy.
"I can help." he offered, adopting a much calmer tone, schooling back his excitement t finding a wild hatchling. Wild dragons were so much more diverse than the ones in the town, meaning he could have a unique dragon, better than anyone else's. Way better than stupid Percy.
He offered a hand to the hatchling, letting them sniff his palm. Their fins stopped quivering, their wings drooped with exhaustion, and they fell into his hand. They were tiny, small enough to fit in the palm of one hand. He set them down again on Henry's belly. He couldn't help the giddy smile that spread across his face watching them nuzzle into the space under the toy's chin, never once taking his eyes off them as his rolled up his pant legs.
He needed fish. He needed to feed the baby if he wanted even a chance at bonding with them. Bonding with a domestic hatchling was as easy (for most) as letting them crawl into your arms. Bonding with a wild-born hatchling was a whole ordeal that one could put months of work and care into and still get nothing out of it. It was easier with a younger hatchling, which this one was, maybe a week old at most, but it would still take a lot of time.
But Tommy had time. He was only ten. He had his whole life to bond with the hatchling. He had his whole life to bond with any wild dragons. Or any other village's dragons. He wouldn't be going home, not yet. He had plans. He had plans coming together in his mind as he snatched up a salmon from the river flowing around his legs.
Big plans.