A Dance of Wyverns (Original - Victorian England)

[Erien]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

---

I woke up feeling I had spent the entire night laying on something hard and lumpy. It took the sound of Beithir's breathing for me to register that that was in fact exactly what I had done. I turned my head slightly to the left, coming face to face with an equally tired-looking wyvern. Beithir stared at me, eyes half-lidded… it was also only then I noticed I could actually see her clearly. I turned my head back to the door to clearly see the morning sunlight streaming through the crack between the two halves quite well. Not much, but enough that the room was also not quite as dark as it was the evening before. It was also what lightly woke me, given the fact that I had to raise my hand to block it as I forced myself to stand.

Forced was the important word in that sentence, as the moment I found myself standing on my own two feet a sharp pain ran up my back. Moving my hands back there I rubbed it, grimacing as I carefully twisted myself to look back at my wyvern. Beithir tilted her head, watching me curious as with all of the grace of a dancing drunken highlander I stepped back, then fell backwards onto Beithir's spine. I felt something shift and heard a definite pop as relief filled me, and I let out a long slow breath before turning my head slowly to look at Beithir again. She stared at me, with what I could swear was a look approaching judgmental. I stared back, "don't look at me that way ya dumb lizard. Ya make fer a shite pillow."

She let out a deep breath, bathing me in the scent of carrion. I blinked, then raised my hand to rub it along her snout. "Aye, good point. Ah best be goin'."

Standing back up I make my way over to the door, undoing the latch and swinging it open… coming face to face with the owner in the process. An older man, with thin grey hair that hadn't quite become fully bald, but little enough that in the right light there might as well be nothing there at all. He stared at me with a slight smile, curiosity writ large on his face. "Good morning Arthur. Checking on her?"

I nodded. "Aye, thanks for takin' care of her on such short notice."

The man nodded as well, looking past me towards Beithir. The wyvern was finally getting her own lazy butt up and was padding around in the stable to stretch her legs. "My pleasure. Are you taking her out again soon?"

"No," I replied. "Not for another week at least, may borrow her for some training but the next race isn't until next Saturday." And with today being Sunday… it means I get a day off, without any training even, an unfamiliar feeling.

"Well, have a lovely Sunday then, Arthur," the old man said, shuffling past me.

"Aye, you as well," I replied. Then made my way past him up the ramp and into the yard. Stretching my arms above my head I looked up to see the sun just barely poking up beyond the horizon. Probably seven or so in the morning by my reckoning, I doubted it was much later. For once, the city was quiet during the day. There were still the usual sounds of traffic, both foot and wheeled, and a general buzz of activity seemed to hang over the city no matter the time of day, but definitely the quietest I had actively heard it during the day. The distant clangs of the factories were absent, normally running at all odd hours; it would seem that even in London Sunday was kept as a day of rest. Smiling to myself I made my way out of the yard and back onto the sidewalk, moving my hands to my pockets as my boots clanked against the ground.

My eyes moved this way and that as I walked, the general stench of it was still present in the air but with morning sunlight painting the streets it was almost pleasant to look at. The hotel was still some blocks ahead, so with my hands in my pockets, I set a steady pace down the street, watching the people pass by and enjoying my morning.

"Hey, mister!"

For a few moments at least. I had perhaps gone half a mile before a voice called out from down a side street. Turning my head I looked to see perhaps about four kids sitting on a bench in front of a small shop. The side street was more of a small park between a dozen buildings, with a large sunken area in the middle of it all where a brown pool of water had formed. The kids themselves were eating bread, the one who called out to me holding a rather small loaf between two hands. Not homeless, at least, not going by their cleanliness, but their clothes were rather ragged.

I debated the merits of just walking on for a moment before I turned and made my way down the street, coming to a stop a good dozen feet away from the children. "Yes?"

The kid, who I'd hazard a guess was the ringleader of this little band of likely miscreants pointed at my feet. "What's with your shoes?"

I glanced down at that, they have a slight layer of mud on them along with hay from the night before. But the armor glinted in the light nonetheless. "I ride flying lizards for a living." I answered honestly.

Four loud startled gasps was the reaction to my revelation, and I watched with some amusement as all of the kids hopped off of the bench to look me up and down. For one, an even smaller boy with curly blond hair kept poorly tucked underneath, my identity apparently clicked. "You're Arthur Adair!"

"Aye." I replied. Not sure if I had a fan club or if this was another attempt to rough me up. Probably the first, but with small children one could never know. Vicious wee bairns, the lot of them.

"Where's your wyvern?" One asked.

"Back at the stables," I said quietly, moving to kneel down as I spoke. "She's a lazy thing like that."

"Is racing scary?"

"Terrifying," I replied. "But very exciting at the same time."

That gets a chorus of giggles, before the ringleader scarfed the last of his bread down and stared at me. "Why didn't you use your reins much in the last race?"

I blinked. "You were at the race?"

The kid shaked his head no. "No, but it was in the papers. They said you just kind of hung onto your wyvern."

I smiled at that. "I let the wyvern do all the flying. She's smarter than I am."

"My dad said wyverns are as smart as dogs!" One in the back said, a freckled face covered in breadcrumbs speaking up.

"Aye, and ah've met many a dog smarter than me-"

Another voice, louder and booming cuts your answer off coming from up ahead. "Oi! Ah fed ya brats, don't give ya free reign to hang 'round in front of my shop and bother the locals!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could the kids ran past me, giggling and laughing all the while. I watched after them for a moment, before looking ahead to see who had started shouting so early in the morning. It was a man with perhaps a decade on me, a heavy gut sticking out from a vest that was perhaps just a touch too small for him. His hair, brown, was greying at the temples, and along his clothes and on his fingers was the familiar white powder of flour. I glanced up from where he stood in the doorway to the sign and… yes, it was a bakery. "Yer open on a Sunday?" I asked.

The man nodded. "Just about the only day those kids aren't workin' in the factory. Use the time to prepare for the week and to feed the little bastards." With him not yelling, there's a definitely familiar accent to the man, not quite the lowlands, but familiar.

I arched my brow. "Foos yer doos?"

The man blinked, then grinned. "Aye peckin!"

I grinned back, stepping forward and offering my hand. With a damn firm grip he took it, and with a hearty shake we separated. "A proper man of the country!" I said.

"Aye, an' look at yew with yer fancy boots. Thinkin' yer one of the queen's knights?" He asked.

"Wyvern racer actually," I replied. "Don't suppose yer servin' breakfast?"

The man laughed. "Nae, shop's closed, but ah can whip somethin' up fer ya."

I patted my pockets. "'Fraid I don't have much on me, but if ye wanted help cleanin' the kitchen or the like ah could help out."

"Nae, the hen would chase ya out with 'er roller if ah let ya in back there." He then stepped aside, opening the door for me. "Just come on in."

I nodded, stepping past the man and into a small bakery. It was just that, a counter covered in flour with nothing in the way of seating or comfort. The smell of fresh bread filled my senses, and caused a loud growl to escape my stomach in the process. Above the counter was a blackboard, currently wiped clean, and below it and past the counter was a large window looking into a kitchen where I could see a blonde woman rolling out dough on a long wooden table.

"So what brings ya down to London?" I asked, moving to lean against a wall as the man stepped past me towards the counter.

"Sold me land to ranchers." The man responded. "Nothing for us up north so me and the hen wanted to try things down here in London."

I sighed. "Ah familiar story if ah ever heard one. Ah had my barn crashed in by a wyvern so took my try at the sport."

"That so?" the man pondered. Then reached below the counter to produce some bread to offer me.

I took it gratefully, ripping off a chunk and biting into it. It was… old, but it was also free so I had no room to complain about it. "Thank ya."

As I did so the woman stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and looked me up and down. "Should have said something George, didn't know we had royalty in."

"Just because a man has shiny boots doesn't mean he's the king of Scotland, ya cut that shite out right now." I replied, grinning.

The woman smiled back, and I started to laugh as the door in the front swung open. All three of us turned to look as a familiar devil with red hair stepped in. Morrigan, dressed in a white dress. Her hair hadn't been put up, and a fair bit of sweat was on her face. "Arthur? Where the devil have you been. I've been looking for you for the past two hours."

I stared at her for a moment, then down at the bread in my hand. "Breakfast."

"Want some food miss?" the owner asked, "fraid you'll have to pay unless yer a Scot."

"She's Irish actually," I replied.

Then Morrigan started swearing. Precisely what she said I didn't have the slightest idea as it was in neither English or Scot. But it was apparently heavily therapeutic for the woman, as once she finished her tirade a good thirty seconds later she let out a deep breath and glared at me. "Where were you?"

"Went for a walk last night and almost got jumped by men likely hired by another rider." I replied. "Ended up sleeping in Beithir's stable, only woke up about a half-hour ago. My apologies, was heading back to the hotel but a gaggle of children found me."

Morrigan glared at me for a moment longer before letting out a long-suffering sigh and turning to the owner. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out some money and started to get some breakfast herself.

"You the missus?" the man asked. Causing a deeply offended look to come across Morrigan's face.

I chuckled. "Me and 'er only have one thing in common."

Morrigan shot a look at me from the corner of her vision, and I continued… carefully. "Hating the English."

She stared at me for a moment longer before nodding, handing the money over to the man before turning to face me fully. "Are ya ready Arthur?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I responded. "Not for another week though isn't it?"

Morrigan smiled, icily. "Aye, true for the race. But you've made it to the final rounds, which means you are scheduled to appear at a social event tomorrow. We need to get you fitted for a suit this morning. Then I'll be teaching you the finer points of etiquette and gentlemanly behavior."

I stared at her for several long moments. "Don't suppose we could just set me on fire could we?"

Her smile got just the smallest amount wider. "Oh, you will wish we could Arthur."

 

[Erien]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

---

Cinch. Tweak. Tug.

Such was the order of the day, as a man roughly half my height and a quarter my weight danced around me to take my measurements and fit a suit around me. About a half-hour ago I fully lost the ability to breathe and as of the current moment, I was filling my lungs with annoyance and pure spite for the woman grinning at me from her seat across the tailor's shop. The novel in her hand, some foreign book from across the Atlantic, sat forgotten on her lap, instead, the woman leaned forward in her chair, chin resting on her palm and an irritating smirk on her face as the man yanked the jacket down again.

Despite the man being an older gentleman of roughly three-hundred-and-seventeen, if you had to give a schoolyard guess, his smaller frame belied a strength that served him well to nearly knock you down on several occasions. Until, with a satisfied noise coming from the man's throat, not unlike a frog croaking on a pond during summer, he stepped back, allowing me to truly look down for the first time since I walked onto this pedestal. It was roughly two more levels of clothing than I was used two, and still one more above than Morrigan usually tried to stuff me into. A slate-gray overcoat rests over an eight-button suit with white trimming, while underneath that is a white shirt that shows through the gap between all of that and is decorated by some blue...tie… thing.

A rather uncomfortable pair of pants tweed in color went down to my ankles, and I had some form of black leather shoe that had cut off the blood flow to my feet some time back. To the point where I had the slightly worrying feeling that if I dared take a step forward I would fall and crush the poor tailor like one might a table after a drunken stumble. I lifted the one arm I physically could, looking at the material. It was nice to be sure, but there was also something to be said about putting lipstick on a pig.

"Very dashing, Arthur." Morrigan said.

I looked up to see the woman had left her seat and was now standing but a short distance away, her eyes traveling up and down my new outfit.

"Aye. In the sense that anyone with a bit of sense will be dashin' away from me at a moment's notice." I replied.

The woman snorted. "Never worn more than that farmer's tunic in your life have you?"

"Plenty of times," I said, turning to look at the woman. "You've dressed me in plenty, and I had nice clothes for Sunday. But this?" I glanced down again. "Damn inhumane is what this is."

"Look at yourself in the mirror." Morrigan replied, gesturing to the long-standing mirror mountain against the wall.

I glanced towards the mirror to confirm what I already knew. The outfit hid the vast majority of my body and between that and my trimmed hair and close-shaved face, I was unrecognizable. I reached up with my right hand to rub at my chin, barely any hair greeting me there. "I look like a dandy."

"I hardly think so," Morrigan replied. "Try smiling."

I frowned.

"No, the opposite of that."

I grinned, I grinned as hard as I possibly could to the point my mouth hurt and the corners of my lips pulled up to be nearly as high as the bottom of my ears.

Morrigan stared at me. "That'll do. Now come on."

With a sigh, I stepped off of the small podium I had been made to stand on for the last two hours. Thankfully I didn't collapse, but there was an uncomfortable… squeeze on my foot from where the leather had never had a chance to stretch in its life. Stepping past Morrigan I moved to the door and opened it for her, the woman flashing me a smile before stepping out into the afternoon London air. I followed her a moment later and nearly ran into her elbow in the process.

The woman extended it out, fist pressed against her hip. "That's a good first step, Arthur. Now be a gentleman and guide this lady through the streets to her evening gala."

"Woman? Maybe. Lady? Questionable." I replied, but looped my arm through hers nonetheless and start leading her down the road towards the Nort-

"It's south."

Turning around I led her south. And despite my grousing, I was damned careful to not accidentally drag her, that would simply be rude. And while I was an uncouth bastard I could be a gentleman when I needed to be… even if I wasn't particularly good at it.

"Good boy, now, you will behave at the dinner and not embarrass me."

"It is fully within my ability to lift you with one arm and throw you into the street, Morrigan." I warned.

Morrigan smiled. "You would not survive the attempt."

---

It was… definitely a party of some sort. That was the best and kindest way I could describe it. I had not been to many in my life, and of those, absolutely none were in any way, shape, or form like the one I just walked into. The large ballroom, sitting on the third floor on some noble's estate, was easily twice the size of my barn. It was a golden room, reflective flowery wallpaper covering the walls that ran up to a concave ceiling. On either side of the room were large windows that looked over the city of London and an expansive garden respectively. They ran nearly the entire length of the wall, only broken up by doors leading to balconies or roman pillars running from floor to ceiling.

The scent of cologne, perfume, and far-too-expensive wines were in the air, and my ears filled with the sounds of conversation, laughter, and a small group of musicians in the corner playing what I would guess would be a waltz. Though if you were to ask I would admit I couldn't recognize one musical style from another, the only 'music' around back home was the mooing of the coos. And barring someone playing fiddle at the local tavern you were just rather out of luck, at least on my farmstead. I was also desperately trying to distract myself from the fact that I was rather drastically out of place here, something I could tell immediately.

I recognized some of the people here from the tournament, but the vast majority were completely foreign to me. "An' here ah thought there'd be more peasants." I said quietly, leaning slightly towards Morrigan as I did so.

"Not hardly," Morrigan replied, looking ahead with a small smile on her face. I had known the woman long enough to tell that it was practiced, not genuine. "I shall mingle, I would suggest you keep your head down, perhaps try some of the food. Most people here know who you are already so don't worry about any introductions."

"Then what was the point of all the lessons?" I asked, walking forward again with her.

"So that you don't embarrass yourself in case something stupid happens," Morrigan replied. Smiling a touch wider and raising a hand in a wave as she walked past a woman she apparently knew. "You'll be fine, just don't hit anybody."

"No promises." I replied, then stepped to the side so that she could go forth and mingle. I for my part made an immediate pivot to the right and wandered over to one of the long banquet tables set out. I idly watched the woman for a moment as I walked, the red-head moving with practiced grace through the throngs of people before starting some jovial conversation with a woman that looked roughly three times her age. I watched her for a moment longer before coming to a stop by one of the tables, it was a long thing covered in a white sheet and large metal trays filled with… all sorts of things, most of which I could not name.

Drinks, desserts, meats and cheeses. I reached down, carefully picking up what looked like a small piece of lamb with a toothpick in it. It was oddly pale, but it didn't smell bad. I experimentally popped it into my mouth and… whatever it was wasn't lamb. It was bland, but it wasn't lamb. Tilting my head slightly I swallowed it, before reaching towards the nearest glass and wiped out the flavor with the taste of something fizzy and… vaguely alcoholic. I blinked, looking down at the now empty glass.

"Not a fan of Champagne?" A familiar male voice asked.

I looked to the side to see Crawford approaching, the man was alone without his wife, but he was dressed in the same blue outfit I first met him in all those weeks ago. "Tastes too expensive." I replied. Setting the glass back down onto the table and grabbing another as I did so.

I started to raise it to my lips before I paused, my eyes locking onto a familiar figure towards the back of the room. A rather large man, pompous by his bearing and impeccably dressed. He was talking amicably with a small crowd of people, seemingly enjoying the night's festivities. Wellbrook, the very man who got me into this situation, to begin with. I felt the scowl coming on before I actually did, but I forced myself to look back towards Crawford.

Crawford looked back curiously before turning back to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Up for a talk on the balcony, Arthur?"

I nodded, casting one last glance back towards Wellbrook before moving around the table and towards the wall. With a turn of the knob, the door to the balcony overlooking the garden was opened, the crisp night air washing over me as I stepped through. The difference in the environment was immediate, gone quickly was the scent of expensive perfumes and the notes of the band. Instead, it was filled with the scent of London and the sounds of a fountain splashing in the garden below me. It was a beautiful thing, all forms of flowers growing in well-manicured beds spread about the distant grounds below. In the center of it all was a large fountain, three bowls of water built on top of each other and pouring down from the top.

"My apologies Arthur, for absconding with you," Crawford said, moving to stand beside me. "Didn't want to take any chances of a scene starting."

"Ah wouldn't have." I replied, "ah'm here for a social function. Startin' a fight would hardly solve that problem."

"That wasn't what I meant, Arthur." Crawford said, the man turning his head to look at me.

"Then what did ya mean?" I asked. Staring down at the water below me.

Crawford didn't respond to that. Silence passed between the two of us before I spoke. "Ah'm no good with these kinds of events. Morrigan is in there doing what she does while I just keep out of the way."

The man beside me chuckled quietly. "I'm unfortunately used to them. One learns over time."

"I don't plan on picking up the skill," I admitted. "Were you not always doing this?"

Crawford snorted, the sound unfamiliar coming from his usually dignified tones. "Not hardly. I grew up in the city but my family was decidedly middle class. We were not poor by any stretch, but far from wealthy. My father came into a windfall however with some exotic product and we had to learn rather quickly." The man lifted his glass to his lips, taking a deep drink before letting out a long breath. Whether from satisfaction from the drink or his thoughts you couldn't say. "I became entranced by wyverns, and ended up going to the same school you did."

I blinked at that. "You were taught by Morrigan?"

He shook his head. "Not her specifically, back then the school had more teachers. But that was still where I learned."

I hummed. I never did bother asking Morrigan if she was the only teacher, but with the school being out of season I never much thought of it. "Are you looking forward to our race next week?" I ask, changing the subject.

"I am, and I am expecting it to be a good one. Do you have a wish?" He asks, trying to sound innocent. Curiosity fills his voice despite his attempt to hide it, however.

The wish, as the wyvern rider's called it. The winner of the race would receive a cash prize, but to most of the wealthy fops competing the prize was just icing. The true prize, for those who had too much money to care about winning more, was a meeting with the queen herself; they said one could ask her for a favor. Help with a farm out in the middle of nowhere of Scotland would be within the might of the crown. A new barn, workers to help with the heavy labour that a cripple couldn't hope to achieve, and a quiet life. It sounded like a dream.

"Simple, ban wyvern sports." I replied, bringing my glass to my lips again.

Crawford's head snapped to look at me so fast I was briefly worried he broke it. He then laughed awkwardly. "That's… a tall order."

"Aye," I said, bringing the glass back down to rest it on top of the balcony. "And ah'm sure it'll be refused. But it's worth a try." I gestured towards my left arm with my right. "Ah can never farm again, and Beithir will have scars the rest of her life from her mistreatment. If ah win ah'll ask that that kind of abuse be removed. The same for the damn wyvern fights as well."

Crawford said nothing for several moments, looking down into his glass. "A noble goal. But I'm afraid I can't throw the race for you. Too much is at stake for me as well."

I smile, leaning over the rail to look over the garden again. "Wouldn't expect ya to." I replied. "At this point ah just want to be done with all of this."

No response from Crawford yet again, so instead I merely started at the water bubbling in the fountain in the garden. Surrounded by blooming flowers it was pretty in the moon's light.

There was a shove against my back.

My eyes widened as I attempted to grab the railing of the balcony, but my hand merely slapped the glass that went flying back. I dimly heard it shatter as I was forced over the side of the balcony. I tumbled over, good arm waving wildly as I went hurtling towards the grounds below.

Then there was nothing.

 

[Erien]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

---

It took more than a little effort to force my eyes open, it was… lethargic, the lids unusually heavy as my senses returned to me. I regretted it as well; the light was painful. I groaned, the sound little more than a croak coming out of my throat as I moved my hand to rub at my eyes. At least… I tried to, I felt a numbness across my entire body that was quickly morphing into a tingling pain. I blinked repeatedly, attempting to jerk my head up to look at myself to no success. My head trembled to slightly lift then fell back against the pillow, and I drew in a deep breath as my eyes darted around the room. It smelled of soap and linen, and light from a window behind me painted the room. I could hear a carriage coming to a stop, a horse whinnying clear in my ears. No matter how hard I tried though I couldn't tilt my head back to see the window, so instead, I kept my focus on the room itself. It was… a lot of white. White walls with a black and white tiled floor I could only make out on the very edges of my vision. Against the far wall to my right was a long table with what looked like cards and letters set up on it, but my vision was far too blurry to make any of it out.

I drew my eyes back, straining due to the efforts of trying to look as much as possible without actually moving my head. I glanced down, and to my annoyance my entire body below my neck was covered in a white blanket, large enough that I couldn't actually see any part of my body. Past the bed, a simple metal-framed thing was a wooden door set into the wall, the brown clashing rather starkly with the black, and with my swimming vision looked impossibly far away. Just above it was painting, a mix of greens and browns that I couldn't make heads or tails of. I sighed, my throat painfully dry. It's a hospital, that much is clear, I could make out talking outside, but I couldn't summon enough energy to speak even if I wasn't particularly inclined to try. I just settled my head back onto the pillow, trying vainly to make my arm or legs move. Nothing, just a distant but rapidly closing pain and numbness that ran up and down my body as if the entire thing had managed to fall asleep at once. It's an odd feeling, I could sense my limbs, all of them thankfully, but I couldn't manage to move any of them. Like a man stuffed with cotton, it just tingled when I tried.

Was I paralyzed?

That was the first thought in my mind. I could move my head but nothing below it. Not a twitch, not a jolt, not a pull or tug. I closed my eyes and tried to think back. I remembered the party, talking to Crawford. I remembered someone pushing against my back and I tumbled over before I could catch myself. Then it's a blur and… waking up here. Given that it appears to be the morning after I would guess that I had fallen into a coma. Something similar happened in town once when one of the neighbors got kicked in the head by a horse. He was down for about two days before waking up, always talked with a lisp after that too.

Holding onto such thoughts, or even the man's name, was rather difficult. As the pain grew more intense a wave of lethargy washed over me, thinking becoming more difficult, though I was just trying to distract myself from the fact that I was likely paralyzed. It's been one thing after another since this all started. Lost my barn, lost my neighbors, lost my arm and now possibly lost the ability to move at all besides my head. Not quite sure I deserved that, but at the moment there was precious little I could do about it.

Maybe I was too stubborn.

Hell, maybe I should have gone with Mary to the city. Though… I suppose I found my way there anyways, didn't really give much thought to my neighbors that had moved away. Wonder what they would think if they could see me now. Lord knows I was always a stubborn bastard, and that was frankly how I managed to find myself in this mess altogether.

Doesn't change that Wellbrook was a bastard however. Likely the man that pushed me over the edge in fact. I let out another breath, allowing… at least some calmness to come over me. I didn't know how much time passed before I heard the door click open. Could have been five seconds, could have been five hours. The numbness had completely suffused my body up to the head, making any conscious thought near impossible. I strained my ears to make out the sound, boots, familiar heavy boots.

"Good morning Arthur. Awake?" Morrigan asked.

I tried to open my mouth to speak, but nothing happened. I couldn't open my eyes or move my head anymore either. I could hear her moving, but I couldn't move at all in response. The scent of her perfume washed over me as she approached, lilac… I thought, I grew crops, not flowers as a general rule.

The walking stopped, and her soft accented voice spoke up again. "I'm… very sorry Arthur." She said, an emotion I had never heard in her voice until now. "I dragged you into more than you were prepared for in an effort to… do something."

I felt a hand press against me, vaguely. There was a weight against my chest and I assumed it was a hand. It was damn near impossible to pinpoint where it actually was. "I used you, and you have gotten hurt repeatedly for it. Just… wake up when you can. I'll handle things until then."

I then felt a hand against my cheek, and something wet pressed against my forehead.

Speak.

I felt the hand move away.

Speak.

I heard her boots on the tiles again.

SPEAK YA RAT JOCK.

"Nay." I croaked out. Pain throbbed in my throat as the words left my lips.

The walking stopped, then started again rapidly towards me. "Arthur? Are you awake?"

"A-aye." I managed to say. "Can ya kindly pry open my eyes?"

I felt her hands press against my face, then suddenly light filled my senses once more as her fingers forced my eyes open. The shock of it filled me with new energy, and I blinked rapidly as I took in the sight of Morrigan standing above me. She was in one of the lovely blue dresses she seemed fond of, and was staring down at me with more than a little worry… and consternation. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"When ya started to walk away." I responded weakly. The pain still throbbed in my throat and it was painfully dry. But I talked regardless.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "And how would you know I was walking away?"

"Because I'm lying to you," I said. "How long have I been out?"

"Asshole," Morrigan muttered. "Three days. You've been out since you went over the edge."

"Explains why my throat is so dry," I replied. "How bad is it?"

Morrigan frowned, clearly trying to find the words to say. After a few moments she seemingly gives up, and instead pulls down the blanket for me to see myself. It's…

Well.

I supposed that was just how my life was going. My left arm, the one that was previously a shattered wreck, was now just completely gone. A bandaged stump all that was present shortly below the shoulder. Beyond that, I had a series of bandages around my stomach and a rather large one around my knees. Alright. "What happened exactly?"

"You fell three stories and caught the top section of the fountain with your arm. It was… pulverized. But it slowed you down enough that when you hit the water you were fine besides damaging your knees. The doctors had to amputate the arm however, I'm sorry." Morrigan said.

I looked back up at the woman, and found she was looking away from me deliberately. "Who pushed me?"

"We… don't know. It was someone who wasn't on the guest list. Crawford thinks it was one of Wellbrook's men." Morrigan admitted. "Crawford had already beaten the man within an inch of his life before the security got there. The man that is, Wellbrook had already left the party."

I nodded. "Is Crawford okay?"

"He is. But you should worry about yourself first I think… you are taking this rather well."

I stared at her until she looked at me, then replied simply. "Would it help?"

"Pardon?"

"Would me p-panicking help in any way?" I asked. "Ah assume ah am out of the races."

Morrigan nodded. "You are, though your fans wished you well enough." She turns her head towards the table and I followed her glance.

It is covered in cards, flowers, and small letters. It's mostly cheap things, handmade or very poorly drawn on bits of card paper. I felt my fingers twitch, and forcing the matter I threw my arm out, ignoring the pain as I gripped the side of the bed and yanked. Morrigan let out a yelp as my right leg swung over the side, and I pulled with all my strength until the rest of me went over as well. Morrigan caught me just before I hit the floor, my one arm straining against the cool tile as my legs slid painfully down. It slipped a moment later, causing me to fail chest-first onto the ground and sharp pain to erupt once more, especially around my left shoulder, but the entire time I kept my head looking towards the table, mind racing despite the pull of the medication and pain attempting to pull my focus away.

I stared up at the cards. Not saying a word as Morrigan desperately tried to right me. I didn't recognize any of the names I could make out, but I could imagine them being written by the urchins I had run into, or the baker, or anyone else I had met in this city who was more on my level of society.

"They sent in money as well, I don't know if it would be enough to buy Beithi-"

"Ah d-don't care." I replied, cutting her off.

Morrigan finally sat me down against the bed frame, my back propped up against it as a truly god awful throbbing ran its course up and down my body. "What do you mean by that?"

I turned my head slowly, looking Morrigan in the eyes. "Where does W-Wellbrook live?" I asked, grabbing at the tile once again with my good arm as I tried to steady myself. "Where?"

 

[Erien]

Thanks to @armory for the beta!

---

The carriage jostled as it made its way through the winding roads of London. With every shift, bump, and jostle my grip on the balance strap built into the carriage roof tightened further. Each motion let new and interesting pain wrack through my body, and by that point, I had damn near chewed through the side of my cheek to mask any cries of pain. I had insisted on taking a carriage to Wellbrook's estate, and by the time I had been loaded into the back of the carriage the lethargy and medicine hiding my pain had washed away completely.

I was. To put it bluntly. Not a well man. But then, I would probably never be again either with the way things had been going for me. I leaned my head back against the cushioned seat as the carriage trundled along, idly turning my head to see Beithir shifting in the cage behind it. I watched her for a time, the wyvern unable to find a comfortable position as the carriage moved along. Well, that, and she insisted on looking at everything as we passed through the boroughs of northern London, her natural curiosity at odds with her desire to simply lay down in order to avoid being jostled like a leaf in a windstorm. Watching her paws… claws, whatever you wanted to call them move about the cage to find some form of purchase did bring a smile on my face, something that lasted until I turned back around to look at Morrigan sitting at the other side of the carriage.

She was still glaring at me, and I couldn't say I blamed her. I couldn't say I cared much either. She was still dressed in that same getup she wore in the hospital, while I was dressed in the same clothing I had that night I was injured. It was brought with me, and beyond some bloodstains, it was still wearable. Perhaps not sanitary… but only so much could be done on such short notice. The doctors were just as against me leaving as Morrigan, but they could not keep me there and I was a desperately stubborn man when I wanted to be. It was, generally, genuinely, and lately as a matter of fact, to my detriment. But at this point I simply wanted… I didn't know what I wanted anymore. My head turned more to the side to look out the window, people stopped to stare at the carriage carrying the beautiful wyvern as it went past, and I could make out a few children calling out 'Beithir'. She was as much of a celebrity as 'I' was, a peasant who managed to make a small name for himself.

Of course, the cost of my 'status' was having an arm shattered, then being defenestrated, and prior to that losing my home, any friends I still had, and… well. I supposed there weren't many great parts of my move to London in general. I closed my eyes, lolling my head back as I did so. I was a broken, tired man, and I can't help but wonder what my parents would think if they could see me now. I wonder if the farm is even still there? A rancher could have easily just 'claimed' it when nobody was paying attention. Could always set him on fire I supposed, Beithir was good at that.

I could hear a voice calling out my name from outside the carriage, another child. Likely excited to peek at a genuine wyvern-rider in the flesh. I lurched forward, ignoring the… fascinating taste in my mouth that sprung up as I did that and turned towards the window. A cheer rose out from the child… a whole gaggle of them actually, and a few adults as well were seemingly glad at my apparent miraculous recovery.

"You managed to become popular quickly, Arthur." Morrigan said, and I looked over at her.

She was still glaring at me, but she was also smiling. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Likely both at the same time I supposed. "People like the underdog." I replied, laying back against my seat once more.

"You have gained a reputation for coming out of nowhere, yes," Morrigan admitted. "But you efforts with such things as rescuing that family from the Channel made the rounds as well. Along with your relatively humble personality."

"Ah wasn't aware my rescue had made the rounds, and haven't done any interviews either." I replied.

"I've done what I can to help you, Arthur." Morrigan replied curtly.

I grunted, then let out a groan of pain as the carriage hit a bump. Morrigan's glare dropped instantly, a look of worry coming over her face. "Ah… know ya have." I replied. "Just wish things 'ad worked out better."

"It still could." Morrigan replied. "You have enough in donations to simply buy Beithir entirely."

"Aye." I said. "But then what? Can't farm, can't really race. An' it's been made perfectly clear that ah'm hardly welcome."

"The people seem to be welcoming you plenty." Morrigan replied.

"Aye. But they aren't the ones controlling the system. Or tossin' me out of buildings. I just… want to ask Wellbrook why. Ah honestly fail to see what made him do it. Might kill 'im. But talk first."

Then, there was nothing but silence between the two of us as I closed my eyes once more, trying to ignore the pain as the carriage made its way out of the city. It took longer than I would have liked, but then, by the time the carriage actually came to a stop I was blurring in and out of consciousness. They opened slowly as the door to the carriage opened, and I found Morrigan stepping outside. By the time I even started to move she was already on the ground and had turned around to face me. "You don't have to do this Arthur."

"Ah'm fully aware." I said, gingerly lowering myself to the ground on unsteady legs. My hand shot out to grab onto the side of the carriage as needle-like pains ran up my body, legs shaking under my own weight. I held onto it, then forced my body to turn around with a wild motion, I didn't so much walk as stumbled like a drunk as I made my way to the back of the carriage and towards Beithir's cage. The wyvern stood up as I approached, stretching her wings as much as she could in the tight confines before leaning forward to press her snout against the metal bars. I leaned against the cage, raising my arm to rub against her snout, the wyvern letting out soft trills as I did so.

"Ah'll be back in just a bit girl, then we'll figure somethin' out." If perhaps, things went perfectly and it turned out Wellbrook was innocent I could buy her… then figure something else. If Wellbrook did do it, well, I supposed I knew things would end rather poorly.

Turning back around I found Morrigan staring at me with a rather complicated expression, and I gave her a crooked smile before hobbling past her. At least, that was the plan. She grabbed my arm and looped hers through it, serving as a point of balance as we made our way up to the estate. "At the very least you won't be stupid alone."

"Appreciated." I replied, then looked up at the building itself. It was, as I might have expected, a rather grandiose structure, three stories and set in the hills of the country outside of London. The grounds were covered in all manner of trees and statues of men I didn't recognize, and two beautiful marble fountains sat to frame a large staircase that led up to the main entrance. I stared at the steps with more than a little worry but moved ahead regardless.

No point stopping now.

---

The parlor I was led into by the butler upon entering was nice, but then, I hadn't expected much else. I had been in more 'nice' places in the last few months than I could have reasonably expected in my entire lifetime. Past a certain point, they all started to blend together. Beautiful polished floors, good furniture, rooms too large to be actually practical, statues and busts of men I had never heard of… and a fireplace for every room inexplicably. The butler backed out as we entered the parlor, and I found myself standing in the room with naught for company but Morrigan, myself… and Wellbrook sitting on one of the red and golden couches that were placed around the unlit fireplace. The man was looking remarkably relaxed, and was smoking idly at a pipe.

His attention turned to the two of us as we entered, and when it did he placed the pipe onto the table beside him with a dull clink before beckoning us forward. The scent of tobacco filled the air as I approached, and with all the grace of a drunken cow I sat on the couch opposite of the man, Morrigan taking the spot to my immediate right.

"I'm glad to see you moving about Arthur." Wellbrook said, moving his hands to place them in his lap as he focused on me. As he said this doors on the far side of the room opened, and in walked… men not too dissimilar to those who accosted me on the street a short few nights prior. Which answers a question I had I supposed.

"Thank ya fer thinkin' of me." I replied. "I see ya've brought some friends around."

Wellbrook smiled, slightly. "Never hurts to be careful. It's hardly polite to arrive unannounced."

"Aye. Much the same how it isn't polite to toss a man over a railing. Don't suppose ya would admit that was yer doin'?"

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid I simply can't, as I did nothing of the sort."

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could he spoke again.

"My men did, and I am sorry that it came to that." Wellbrook admitted.

I froze, staring at the man as his thugs spread out around the room, with a pair of them moving behind the couch myself and Morrigan were sitting out. "Why would ye admit to that?"

"You asked." Wellbrook responded, reaching down to pick up his pipe again. He fiddles it in his hands as he stares at me, tapping his fingers lightly against the wood. "If it is any consolation you were supposed to die. You've become something of a rather annoying sensation, and while you would be a martyr… for a short amount of time, the masses would quickly forget about your existence with your death. So yes. My apologies for the maiming."

I felt a stabbing pain in my hand, and I looked down at it to see Morrigan was gripping it so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

"And it doesn't matter that I do tell you. It would never be tied to me anyway." Wellbrook admitted, shrugging his shoulders before stuffing his pipe back into his mouth. "You see my good man, you are… well, I wouldn't say nothing. But you are worth very little. No land, no possessions beyond my wyvern. Even the clothes on your back belong to a disgraced member of the landed gentry."

"True Wellbrook." Morrigan replied icily. "But I am still powerful enough to cause you problems if you try anything."

A pair of hands clapped onto my shoulders, and I jerked my head back to see one of the thugs pressing me down into the couch. Another has done the same for Morrigan, and I turned my head back to look at Wellbrook as the man let out a sigh. "I do think you are a good man Arthur, genuinely. But you've managed a bit too much and have become rather obnoxious, and have become a rather annoying threat in the process."

"What do ya intend to do about it, kill me?" I asked. Feeling like I knew the answer to that question already.

"Not a second time, no." Wellbrook said, "what I have done is called the constabulary. For the crime of stealing private property along with breaking and entering, specifically the theft of my wyvern months ago in the colosseum."

Morrigan moved to say something, shock clear as day on her face, but Wellbrook continued. "You think I didn't know who freed her? A red-headed woman in the dead of night? Use a little sense. No. I was hoping this folly with Arthur would lead you to your own destruction without me needing to involve a messy affair with the constabulary. But… I suppose things got rather complicated, didn't they? As it did land on his property I have pointed out Arthur as the co-conspirator, so if it is any consolation you two shall be arrested together."

"I…" I started, but didn't find what to say.

Wellbrook stood, removing the pipe from his mouth and tapping it against his palm, allowing the ashes to fall to the floor as he walked over to me. He stopped a good six feet away, staring down at me with a smug expression. "With the two of you arrested the beast will fall under my purview, and I suppose I'll just throw it in the wyvern fights to get rid of it. A shame to waste the time and effort someone else paid to train her, but she is just about as popular as you turned out to be."

The arms pressed further down against my shoulders. But it did little to distract from the roar I felt in my ears. I was in a terrific amount of pain, and the hands pressing down against me were strong. But at the moment all I could focus on was the man standing in front of me. I lunged forward, ducking so that the hands gripping me lost their clutch. My body fell forward towards the floor, and my good arm, my only arm, the only arm I had due to this man latched around his leg and yanked.

With a yelp Wellbrook fell to the floor, the pipe clattering against the floor and spilling embers across the carpet as Wellbrook landed. I leapt from my prone position, falling on top of the man and slamming my fist into his jaw with all the force I could feasibly muster. There was a loud crack, and I felt a sharp pain in my fist.

A moment later I was dogpiled by five men.

Wellbrook's head lolled to the side to look at me as I was pressed against the ground, men stomping on me and attempting further injury.

I kept staring at him.

Wellbrook simply drooled with a vacant, unblinking stare.

I smiled, and I kept smiling until someone pulled a bag over my head.

 

[Erien]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

---

As a youth I wandered, going from town to town in the lowlands and generally bothering the people near me, I wasn't too proud to admit that. I drank, I fought, I made a damn fool of myself more than once and did things that I would need to explain before God someday. Lost loves, forgotten memories, and enough whisky to turn a preacher to sin. It was years ago, but it was still a part of my life I remembered with some fondness. A man is only a youth once, and it's his job to adventure and live before settling back down and doing what God intended for him to do on this Earth. There were some regrets, some stupid decisions. And yet I had never been in a jail.

Now in three months, I had been in two.

It smelled less than pleasant, but then this place was little more than the local drunk tank from what I had gathered. There was a lot of punching, swearing and kicking after they got the bag over my head, and it was only removed as I was being shoved into the back of a police carriage along with Morrigan. From there it was a speedy ride through the city, then we were thrown into opposite cells with little in the way of luxury… or anything connected to cleanliness for that matter. I sat in a seemingly permanently damp room that was just tall enough to stand in, and just wide enough that I could pace if I felt the urge. The walls were a faded brick, and the floor was an uneven stone that was remarkably more comfortable to sleep on than the iron bed. I would know, I had been in there for two days already.

I sat with my back against the wall, dressed in the slightly too small prison garments that had been generously provided for me. They did little to fight the cold and the wet of the cell, but then, Morrigan was hardly in better straits. She sat in the cell across from mine, the building itself wasn't large, maybe large enough for twelve cells in all, from what I could make out, but the conversation between us had been mute and stilted when we bothered to speak at all. In the past two days, I had hardly moved from the spot I sat against except to stretch my back, two long days of the police having seemingly little idea of what to do with us. But then, it was just a matter of waiting.

I could be called dramatic, but my life was over. No home, no wyvern, no money, and I had likely killed a man. It surprised me to realise I regretted all barring the last, but then that was just another sin amongst many. Letting out a breath I leaned my head back against the brick. My body still ached, and would likely for some time still. Distantly I could hear the clang of an officer moving about, the now-familiar jostling of his keys echoing down the hall.

"Ah don't suppose ya have any Irish shenanigans to get these doors open?" I asked quietly. The foul scent of the cell entered my mouth as I did.

"I can pick a lock, as I told you yesterday." Morrigan replied, looking up from where she had been staring at the ground.

"But ya left yer picks back at the school." I finished, allowing something resembling mirth to creep into my voice.

A small smile came onto Morrigan's face at that, allowing her to at least resemble the woman she was a few days prior. With her prison garb and without her usual makeup, she looked like a remarkably different woman. But the smile was recognizable. "They make a rather poor accessory for dinner parties."

"Apparently ah do as well," I replied. "Things are a bit of a mess."

Morrigan shrugged her shoulders, moving around in her cell for a few moments before sitting down onto the bed. "Having second thoughts about your choice in career Arthur?"

That got a chuckle from me, though little else as the smile dropped. "Ah was one of few men of my age left in my hometown Morrigan. Ah ever tell ya that?"

"You did not." Morrigan said, her head turning to look at me as she did so.

"Just about everyone moved to the bigger cities for work, ah was too damn stubborn a fool to do so." I smiled again, a crooked thing. "Damn near everyone ah knew that ah went to school with did so, and ah was about to lose my farm to the ranchers, couldn't make near enough to keep hold of 'er. Ah had maybe another season or two before ah would have had to sell it. Then Beithir came crashing into ma barn."

My smile turned wistful, and I looked towards the ceiling as I spoke. "Ah was just planning on getting a quick payout, but then that whole thing with Wellbrook happened. Ah suppose ah wanted more than that though."

"What do you mean?" Morrigan asked, now sounding genuinely curious.

"Ah suppose ah wanted an adventure, or somethin' more than what ah had. Ah like my farm, and it was in my family for generations, but it was a losin' battle. Wanted to… experience more ah suppose. Fly in an airship, or visit another country. Ah was in a place ah couldn't win, and ah was just bein' stubborn about it then lied to myself about my own objectives."

"Well, you got an adventure out of it." Morrigan admits.

"More of a Greek tragedy, ah think." I replied.

Morrigan laughed, the sound rich in the otherwise dreary space. "There you go again, referencing things I would assume you did not know. When do Greek tragedies come between crop rotations?"

"Ah talk like a farmer, ah walk like a farmer, ah have the strength of ah farmer. But that doesn't make me near stupid. Ah enjoyed my studies. Couldn't afford books or anythin' like that. But ah learned whatever was put in front of me." There was a lot, I was one of the few in town that paid attention. Of course, I also had a good teacher, but I doubt that alone was enough. "This is the moment before the curtain closes and the fate of the hero is left unrevealed."

"I would imagine they'll just execute you." Morrigan offered.

"Oh, absolutely," I agreed. "But a man is allowed to dream." I then closed my eyes again, letting my head rest against the brick. I let out a deep breath, trying to relax even a little, ignoring the faint pains. The only sound is that of the faint city outside, and the jingling of keys… that are getting closer?

I opened my eyes again as they approached, it was after breakfast and still too early for lunch. I expected to see the guard coming down the hall, and I did. But I saw Crawford as well. The shock I felt at that must have shown on my face; the dandy smiled at me as the jailer stopped in front of my cell. "Would that make me Horatio then?"

"Ah have no idea who you are talking about," I answered honestly. But stood up shakily as the door to the cell creaked open. Without a word, the jailer turned around to do the same for Morrigan's cell, and I gave Crawford as questioning a look as I could muster as I walked quickly through the threshold.

"Unlike you and Morrigan, I still have friends in this city. I purchased a surety for you two until your actual court date… which may be a while, they are rather busy at the moment. We'll discuss what you owe me later, at the moment you are expected."

"What do you mean by that?" Morrigan asked, stepping out of her cell.

"In due time," Crawford replied. Then held out our clothes. "For now I suggest you make yourselves decent."

---

I expected to hear the usual bustle of the city as I stepped outside the jail.

What I got instead was a roar. A large crowd has choked the street in front of the jail, men, women and children letting out a cheer as I step out of the building. I paused in my steps, nearly tripping as I took in what I was seeing. My head jerked towards Crawford, and the man explained before I even needed to ask.

"You were always popular amongst the lower classes Arthur. Wyvern racing is a rich man's game, so seeing one of their own was something rather unique to them." Crawford explained. "I just happened to let slip what Wellbrook did. On top of other offences you have suffered, the lower classes have taken it rather poorly. Such demonstrations have cropped up all over the city."

I turned my head back to the crowd to look over the dirty but united people, factory workers, street laborers, all sorts of people, the majority of which the type I saw on the outskirts when I was first arriving in London itself. "Ya turned me into a revolutionary?"

"I was rather upset with Wellbrook, and they were rather poor of having to deal with freed wyverns and tired of the bread and circus act. They've propped you up as some sort of symbol I'm afraid."

I processed that but didn't follow up on it. Instead asking the main question running through my mind at the moment. "Where's Beithir?"

"She has been moved to the stadium, her first match is today." Crawford answered.

I glanced around the city, the building was gigantic, and even in the middle of town, it was not hard to spot poking out from the other buildings. My feet started walking towards it automatically.

"Where are you going Arthur?" Morrigan asked, moving to walk beside me.

"Getting my wyvern back." I replied. Moving through the crowd as their hands touched my shoulders. I kept walking, ignoring any pains and aches as I started down the streets.

And an army marched behind me.

 

[Erien]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta, and thank you all for reading!

—

I was never a particularly popular man. Not due to any unfriendliness on my part, at least, I hoped so. But it was more the fact that my town was small, and popularity was generally waged in terms of reach. People knew me, but everyone knew everyone, and I was far from famous. I was a quiet farmer, rather onerous, but quiet, and I was quite happy with that. Now I had a crowd roaring around me, and with every step, it grew.

It was a small army that followed me through town. Crawford had sparked a protest that had grown to encompass the factories and the working classes, and they had staged demonstrations across London, and as we moved… they converged. People came in from side streets, signs, shouts, curses and general rabble-rousing filled the scene, and I was at the forefront of all of it. The people were tired of being prey to the beasts let loose haphazardly by the nobility, tired of the bread and circus games, and apparently rather upset that their underdog was mauled repeatedly. Morrigan stood just to my right, keeping pace with me… such as my uncertain and somewhat drunken pace was. Her arm was around my shoulder, helping me along as we made our way down the streets towards the colosseum. Those few still on the streets ahead of us were rapidly going into buildings or pulling their carriages off of the road, while ahead, at the far end of the street, I could see a police barricade rapidly being set up in front of the arena itself.

We were a slow-moving thing, and gave ample time for anyone to respond to our action… but we were also rapidly growing too large to stop. My body filled with strength as I moved, it was still a stumbling, pain-filled thing, but energy I hadn't felt in days now filled me as I walked. Something that only grew as Crawford grabbed my other shoulder. I was quite a sight I'm sure, dressed in a bloody, torn suit, missing an arm, limping through London with a fop on one shoulder and a witch on another. Truly the thing revolutionaries were made of.

The police got out one 'halt' before the crowd rushed out around me, charging forward and running the poor bastards over. Punches were tossed, things were thrown, and I paid attention to none of it as Crawford and Morrigan hurried me along towards the arena itself. The guard normally at the door wasn't visible, either having retreated inside or joined the police, I didn't know, and I didn't care. My hand landed on the door for the entrance to the VIP staircase, and I swung it open, looking up at the staircase.

I heard a roar, distantly, one I recognized to be Beithir. And I stepped forward, my foot hitting the stair. Morrigan and Crawford weren't behind me anymore, I wasn't sure why, but I found it hard to focus on that as my steps grew more rapid. They echoed in the staircase, but so did the roaring of both the wyvern and the crowd, the sound mixing in the stone chamber to a distant but still all-encompassing echo.

What was I doing? What was my plan? Where did Morrigan and Crawford go? Are the people outside okay? I had no answers to any of these questions beyond the first, and as I swung open the door to the VIP booth it was a rather simple one. I was getting my wyvern back. The men in the booth looked at me in alarm as the door slammed open, it was all men I vaguely recognized.

"Good morning, gentlemen." I offered, then looked past them towards the arena… for about a second, before I was swinging open the side door and for the first time in days running down the steps. Beithir stood near the edge of the arena, roaring and spewing fire. Along her side was a gash, bleeding… didn't look particularly lethal, but that wasn't why I was running. Charging her across the arena was a familiar brute; big and green, the same one that had won that first wyvern 'fight' I saw.

Nobody tried to stop me as I sprinted down the steps, I could faintly hear voices back in the booth calling my name, but they were barely audible above the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. The arena itself was surrounded by a dome of glass, for the protection of the crowd. The only way into it was via glass doors that the referees and announcers used to enter and exit as needed. They were also locked for the crowd's safety. I raised one arm in front of my face and slammed into it, the glass shattering as I crashed through it and onto the steps that led down into the arena floor itself. Shouts and gasps followed behind me, but I was already moving again, ignoring the stinging pain on my face from shards of glass as my feet finally touched the floor of the arena once more.

The ground trembled around me, the heavy footfalls of wyverns thundering in the air as Beithir ran from the chasing brute. Beithir was far faster, but the brute was far stronger, Beithir's wings flapped to give her extra speeds, but the design of the dome was as such that a wyvern couldn't stay in the air indefinitely, and even then the range of the brute's flames was enough to reach to the apex of the dome.

And I chased after.

My good hand, my only hand, reached up to my lips as I let out a shrill whistle. Beithir's head jerked towards me at the sound, and her feet dug into the earth as she rapidly turned, her wings slamming against the ground to steady herself before she changed direction to sprint towards me. The brute for its part had no such grace, slamming against the wall and stumbling.

Beithir slowed down, slightly as she approached me, a happy sound escaping her. I stepped to the side, then as she moved past me I leapt, my one remaining arm threatening to tear itself out of my one remaining socket as I grabbed onto the joint of her wings and hauled myself onto her back. She had no saddle or stirrup, and my legs clamped around her sides and my good arm gripped the back of her neck as she did a wide turn around the edge of the arena. My head snapped to the right at the sound of heavy footfalls, far heavier than Beithir's own. And I looked to see the beast sprinting across the arena, flame painting its mouth alight as it charged.

"Up!" I cried, shifting my legs up and hoping Beithir understood the command.

With a single flap of her wings Beithir lifted off, blowing flame against the ground to gain lift. Flames slammed against the wall where we were just moments prior, the stone blackening with the impact. Beithir swung around, blowing her own flame onto the brute before landing back down onto the ground. The beast roared in pain, disappearing in the flames, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for it. The thing was covered in scars, injured, and likely had been used as a show animal all of its life. But there was nothing I could do about it. The crowd in the stands were standing on their feet behind the glass, apparently shocked by my sudden appearance, and I took a moment to look around the arena. The 'exits' for the wyverns were one of two methods, a large metal gate that was currently closed and that I didn't have the ability to open, and the elevators that I couldn't access either. My musings were cut short by a bloodcurdling roar, and my gaze snapped back just in time to see the beast charging forward once more, Beithir moved to leap out of the way, but not before it got its claws to scrape against her leg.

I tumbled off, landing on the ground with a groan from the speed of which Beithir moved without stirrups. I slammed my arm against the dirt a moment later, forcing myself up. What I saw… was Beithir laying on the ground, one leg bleeding heavily, the other pawing against the ground as she attempted to right herself and scramble away at the same time from the beast stomping towards her. Beithir roared, scratching against the earth.

I whisted, as loud and as piercing as I could muster. The brute paused in its movements, turning its head to look at me. Flames still bedecked it, small little spots where Beithir's fire took hold. It gave it an almost demonic appearance as it fully turned around to face me. And I whistled again.

"Aye, come on ya dumb lazy beast. Ah'm right bloody here!" I shouted, waving my arm around. I leaned down to grab a clod of blood-soaked dirt from the arena, and threw it at the wyvern. That did it.

It started to run, it was easily thrice as tall as I was, and far wider and heavier. Flames lit its mouth, bright enough that I had to cover my eyes from the light. But I never closed them, I wanted to watch.

…

Not my death of course.

The whistling was only partially to get the brute's attention. It was also to get Beithir's.

The brute let out a roar of pain as Beithir slammed into it, her mouth clamping around the beast's throat and letting out as much fire as she could muster. The brute jerked wildly, spasming in place before it fell to the ground, it's throat burned through. It didn't even twitch as it lay there, and I let out a long and deep breath before walking forward to run my hand along Beithir's side. She turns her head to look at me, a soft trill escaping her. "Aye girl, ah've got ya. Sorry about that."

Her head ducked down to rub against my hand, and I acquiesced to the request and ran it along her forehead, the wyvern's eyes drifting shut as I did so. My gaze turned back to the beast, it's skin… bubbling in places. I wish there was more I could do for it, but… I just didn't have the time.

Beithir's trilling brought me back, and I smiled, feeling right for the first time I had in some time. Then I removed my hand and pointed down to the ground. Beithir let out a chirp and laid down, and I slid myself onto her back once again. She then rose a moment later, and I let out a long and slow breath as I turned her towards the gate. To my surprise, it was already opening, swinging inwards to reveal my 'army' had forced the door. I took in the sight, then trotted Beithir forward towards them. The crowd parted as I moved, people cheering and shouting as I made my way back outside.

There… It was quite a bit of chaos. More of the police had shown up, and the crowd was now in the midst of an all-out brawl with them. Those that held the door open quickly ran back to join the chaos, and I could see Crawford and Morrigan moving towards me. They both came to a stop at the same time, and Morrigan spoke first. "Are you alright Arthur?"

"As alright as I could be. Making a lot of noise I see."

Morrigan smiled, and Crawford spoke. "Rather out of control, actually. Are you fleeing the city?"

I looked down at Beithir. "Something like that, but first there's something I have to do."

"What would that be?" Morrigan asked, and there was a wary tone to her voice.

I smiled at her. "Thanks for the help so far." Then I nudged Beithir and we took off into the air with a mighty flap of her wings. Straight up, then around to land on top of the VIP box. The stone cracked underneath her weight, and the crowd screamed from my sudden reappearance. "I would recommend leaving!" I shouted out, and Beithir let out a roar.

The crowd scrambled, running towards the exits as fast as they could, panic filling the air as they ran from the arena. I let out another breath, running my hand along Beithir's neck. Before pressing my knees against her side. Beithir let loose a gullet of flame down onto the now vacant seats. Searing fire washing over the steps and stone. The flame caught immediately, the wooden planking used as a base and the seats burning like matches from the heat. I then set Beithir in a circle around the arena, blowing down flame until the entire structure was burning, smoke rising into the sky and the glass flashing.

"Good work, girl," I said quietly, patting Beithir on the side… then slid off of her to land on the roof of the arena. I stood on top of one of the boxes… possibly another VIP box, possibly one for the announcers, it truly wouldn't matter much longer. And I looked out over the city where fires had sprouted up all over. Shouts filled the air, and the whole city laid in a state of pandaemonium… not what I wanted, but what was given to me. The ground was at least two hundred feet below me, and I watched the chaos in amazement for a few moments, idly wondering if I was supposed to give a speech or the like. Beithir let out a soft trill, pressing her head against my side, I turned my attention from the chaos and the crowd, focusing instead on the giant little beast that had become the focus of my life for some time now. "I met ya in fire, seems about fitting for how this should end aye?"

I ran my hand along her head, then pushed back gently. "Run along girl, best ya leave the city."

Beithir tilted her head, clearly confused. "I'll be fine, just trust me."

The wyvern stepped back, still clearly confused. And I pointed my hand out towards the town. "Go, girl!"

At my shout Beithir flapped her wings, slamming them briefly against the arena before taking off into the air. I watched after her, hand moving to shield my eyes from the morning sun as a silver missile took off over the city. She disappeared in the shine of the sun, and I smiled as I lost sight of her. "Aye Beithir, don't think ah'm goin' after ya this time." I then laughed, turning to start making my way towards the stairs. "Not sure if that makes ya loyal tho-"

I heard the crack before the round hit me. I stumbled in place, my knees giving out beneath me as I lost the ability to stand. I looked down, to see the white shirt underneath the suit quickly turning red with blood, and I shakily turned my head towards the crowd where I could see a mob of people taking down an officer that was holding a gun. I let out a long, slow breath, then pressed my hand against the ground and stood up. It was an interesting pain, a new one, and I had had a lot of interesting pains lately. It was sharp but cold, and I could feel what little strength I had leaving me rather rapidly.

The crowd surged in apparent anger, and my eyes looked over it for Morrigan to no avail… I suppose it didn't matter. I could feel the heat of the flames at my back, and I stepped forward towards the edge as a wyvern's roar sounded out.

I smiled.

Then fell over the edge.

—

"Do you need any help with your bags ma'am?" the driver asked me. And I shook my head before tossing them into the carriage.

"Fair enough ma'am, er, Morrigan was it?"

"Yes. How long until we get there?" I asked, leaning back against the seat and pulling my hat off of my head to set it beside me.

"From here? Only about an hour, not much out that ways though."

"As I have been told yes," I replied.

The driver gave me a skeptical look, but turned back to his horses and snapped the reins, and a few moments later we were off. My eyes wandered the countryside as we traveled, it was… a rather pretty place, nothing like home, but lovely. With trees and rolling hills, why they called it the 'lowlands' was beyond me, the number of hills here made most parts of southern England look amusingly flat by comparison. But in either case, it was enough to keep my attention along the way and true to his word an hour later I was dropped off at my destination… a small abandoned farmhouse. It sat squat in a field, abandoned with cattle grazing all around it, grass grew with abandon in sunken rows that were clearly once cared for fields, and beyond it was a town that rather looked almost abandoned.

It was… nowhere, basically. Ranchland and little else, with nothing in the way of excitement beyond the cows… or coos I believed they called the breed. I stared into the house, wondering what it looked like when it was still in use, which had to have been a year ago at least. Then I started to walk, making my way down the path, past the farmhouse towards the town, it was just as ill-populated as I imagined. Those few who still lived there worked on the ranches around it, and the vast majority of buildings were shuttered or just abandoned with little care. I glanced around, more than aware I looked out of place, before my eyes landed on an old man sitting in front of what appeared to be a schoolhouse.

I… Arthur mentioned this man yes, one of the few times he actually talked about his hometown besides rants.

"Excuse me," I said, approaching the man. "Are you McDunnough?"

The man looked up slowly, wrinkled face framed by glasses that rested low on his nose. "Yes? I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure miss."

I smiled, slightly. "I'm… a friend of Arthur, do you know him?"

McDunnough frowned. "Arthur died in London. But ah did know him, taught him when he was just a lad."

"I went by the farm, it was bought?" I asked.

"Aye, shortly after he died. Landlords snatched it up, they own most of the valley now." He replied, then his eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. "You Morrigan?"

I blinked. "... Yes."

The man let out a low breath then closed the book he was reading. "Good to meet ya ma'am. Arthur Adair is dead, if ya are lookin' for the rest of the family they live in a valley north of town. Just follow the road and take the second right." He then points off towards a distant hill. "You'll find 'em in there."

I stared at him, confused. Then nodded. "Thank you." I then stepped past him and went through the town. Arthur never mentioned relatives… but the families aren't as small as the English like to keep them. The path north of town was much the same as it was to the east, fields upon fields of cattle and cash crops, and it took a good half hour of walking before I was heading through the valley where the old man had pointed me. There… it was mainly a forest, and the further along I went the rougher and older the path became. Until eventually it came to a stop in a clearing perhaps a hundred feet in every direction.

Within it sat a cottage, a simple thing made of stone and lumber, looking rather recently built going by how unweathered the stone was. In front of it was a field, in the midst of being plowed. Walking through it was a silver wyvern, walking along with a hoe strapped to its back. And saddled atop it was a man, he had bright red hair and a beard, and as he turned to look at me he raised a hand in a wave. Just one, as he was missing his left. The wyvern let out a happy trill as it turned to look at me.

I smiled.

Fin.

 

[Erien]

For those interested the story is now available on Amazon in a compiled format.

A Dance of Wyverns https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NLF412Y/ref=cm_sw_r_apan_glt_DAREYQ1WKS3HH3HT5XZ6