#buobba

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (3)

warnings: threats, fear, arguing, cliffhanger

-

The first obstacle to their little road trip was convincing Roman to dress appropriately for the journey.

The armor itself wasn’t all that stand-out. Patton had seen plenty of well-funded mercenaries out there who could afford an enchantment or two for their greaves. The coat of arms stamped on everything, on the other hand…

In all fairness, they had kidnapped the guy. He’d already been uncertain about, well, just about everything in the situation so far, and now he was being told that he couldn’t even wear his favorite accessories.

Patton would have had a little bit more sympathy if the accessories in question weren’t all emblazoned with the decorative sigil of Faerin, a kingdom that had personally victimized his best friend, as well as frequently seeming to make trouble whenever and wherever it pleased.

Plus, the other thing was—

“If you walk into town with that on, we’re all gonna get jumped,” Virgil said bluntly, waggling the blade of Roman’s dagger at the coat of arms brightly emblazoned on multiple pieces of the knight’s armor. “Seriously, ditch it.”

Roman huffed, holding a scandalized hand up to his chest as though Virgil had told him to strip down to his trousers and jump into a briar patch. “We will not get attacked! Faerin isn’t currently at war with any of the nearby territories.”

“Wow, real gracious of them,” Virgil replied flatly, and Patton jumped in to prevent the tensions from rising any further.

“Roman, kiddo, it’s not really about the war,” he explained, holding his hands up peaceably. “It’s more about all the taxes. People really don’t like the kingdom’s policies, so as soon as you get clear of the enforced territories, well. Folks out here tend to atax first, ask questions second when it comes to Faerin.”

Virgil snorted, leaning back against the wall and twirling the blade in his hand smoothly. He had flatly refused to give the dagger back to Roman even when Patton asked him in private, which was how he knew this little venture was really putting his friend on edge.

It wasn’t fair of him to ask Virgil to do this, not really, but he couldn’t help but ask anyhow. To meet another survivor of one of the worst days of his life and find that they’d developed a hatred of the very one who’d saved him that day… it was too sad to bear, so Patton was going to fix it! Or, he was going to try really hard to, at least.

The fixing process would have gone much smoother if the pair of them would stop jumping like startled cats every time one or the other did anything, but Patton had no say in that. Virgil was twitchy by nature, and Roman had proven rather reactive himself.

“These could have perfectly useful applications as well, you know!” Roman huffed, running his fingers over the embroidered underlayer he’d been about to put on. “Imagine if we run into a fellow Faerin knight out there? My kingdom’s symbol could grant us an ally, as simply as that, giving us more protection from malignant forces!”

Patton resisted the urge to grimace at the very idea.

Less restrained, Virgil reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment, and then huffed out a disbelieving exhale, sheathing the dagger. “Okay, sure, let’s imagine that. After you get done exchanging obnoxiously overdramatic greetings with this imaginary knight who somehow survived out there without getting robbed, what then? What do you think your fellow knight will have to say when you let it slip that I’m a dragonwitch, infamously the number one enemy of your kingdom?”

Roman immediately descended into sputtering, his shoulders hunching at Virgil’s sharp critiques. “We— Obviously I would inform them of the specifics of the situation, and let them know that despite what it may look like, there’s no reason to worry and nothing to fear, for I have everything well in hand!”

At the words, Virgil went still for a moment, a sudden edge of danger seeping into his rigid posture. Pushing off the wall, he stalked closer to where Roman stood, gaze flinty and mouth slanted. For every step closer he got, Roman’s shoulders bunched up further with tension, his hand dropping to his hip as though to draw a blade that was no longer sheathed there.

Patton thought about getting involved, and then decided that he couldn’t step in every time the two of them started bickering. He had to let them do some olive branching of their own! Virgil wasn’t the best gardener, but anyone could wield a spade if they tried hard enough! It would probably be fine.

… Emphasis on probably.

For his part, Virgil leaned forward slowly until he was practically looming over Roman, and let his leathery wings slowly rise like the mantle of a bird of prey, the early morning light reflecting off his scales like oil gleaming in a lantern’s glow. He tilted his head with a menacing, narrow-eyed smile, sharp teeth on full display. “Do you have everything well in hand, Princey?”

Roman swallowed, lifting his chin to meet Virgil’s gaze head-on. “As far as anyone needs to know, yes.”

Despite his bravado, his hands were clenched into shaking fists at his sides. Virgil’s malicious smile eased into something harder to read, and he rolled his eyes before backing off.

“Just get rid of the sigils. We don’t need the trouble.”

Roman’s brow furrowed for a moment, his expression hard to read, but this time, he didn’t protest.

—

The second obstacle to their road trip was convincing Roman to actually get on the road.

Or, rather, on the dragon.

“There is absolutely no way I am literally placing my life in the claws of a dragon,” Roman stated plainly, expression dour. He was trying to look aloof, but the effect was ruined by the way his gaze kept roaming back to rest on the large footprints Virgil had left in the dirt when they’d first arrived back home, unconscious knight in hand.

“That’s probably the smartest thing he’s said all day,” Virgil added unhelpfully, picking dirt out from beneath aforementioned claws with his pilfered blade. “Give the guy a prize.”

“Virgil,” Patton said, exasperated, before turning to Roman. “There’s no need to worry, Virgil is a very safe flier. Plus, you’ve already done this once before, remember?”

“You know, I actually don’t recall! How strange,” Roman retorted, re-adjusting his pauldron in short, jerky motions. “It’s almost as though someone clubbed me over the head with a big rock or something. Imagine that!”

Patton’s cheeks went a little hot, and he cleared his throat pointedly. “Well, I was there, and he was very careful to make sure neither of us got hurt! To be honest, I was pretty darn nervous being that high up, too. Really, heights like that aren’t always fall they’re cracked up to be!”

“Don’t add pun-based insult to my injury, I beseech you,” Roman replied, grimacing. “And I’m not afraid of heights themselves, I’m afraid of being dropped from them!”

Virgil snorted, finally sticking the sheathed dagger in his boot and ambling away from them. “If you want to avoid assassination attempts, maybe stop giving out free ideas, Princey. Not that it matters. If I was going to kill you, I’d do it human-shaped. More fun that way.”

Ignoring Patton’s exasperated look and Roman’s squawk of offense alike, Virgil walked over to the middle of the clearing, taking care to circle around the daffodils Patton had planted as he went. He stopped once he had a wide stretch of space between him and any potential obstacles, glancing back over briefly with his lips pressed tightly together.

Patton gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, mostly to encourage and support him, and a little bit to remind him that no matter what happened with Roman, Patton would always be there at his best friend’s side.

Virgil offered him a slight upturn of the lips, more grimace than smile, but he seemed a bit more relaxed when he closed his eyes and turned away from them, hand lifting to press against the little purple stone set between his collarbones.

“Wait, he’s not actually going to—,” Roman started, only to be cut off by Patton flapping his hands at him in a shushing gesture, eyes still locked on his friend.

Virgil rolled his shoulders, drew his wings close around himself, and then began to stretch the leathery appendages out, wider and wider. There was a thick crackling noise, like bones snapping or lightning running through an old tree, and with a twist, Virgil shifted into his largest form.

It only took a few moments, the air around him warping strangely, and then, there he stood, tail brushing the ground as he shook himself like a very, very oversized dog after a bath. The dust stirred around them from the intensity of it.

Roman had yelped and skipped back a fair few steps, but Patton didn’t bother even shuffling out of the way. Sure enough, none of those huge claws even got close enough to think about grazing him.

He knew his friend, and so he knew that Virgil was a worrier like no other. Frankly, Virgil’s pinky finger probably held more caution in it than a grown man or three had in their whole bodies. His human pinky, not the dragon one, to boot.

Patton was probably the safest he’d ever been, standing in the shadow of Virgil’s wings. He sure felt that way, at least.

“Hey, kiddo!”

Virgil perked up at the call, shuffling around a bit to lower his big scaly head into closer range. He was rumbling low in his chest, not necessarily loudly, but still definitely big enough that Patton could feel the noise in his bones.

He reached out and embraced the surprisingly soft snout as Virgil nudged it lightly against him, huffing lightly and waiting patiently for Patton to get his fill of impromptu dragon cuddles.

Patton smiled to himself. This was a far better sight to see than the nervous, flinching way that Virgil had acted that first time he’d shifted, when he kept sneaking glances at Patton like he was waiting for him to realize what he was and run screaming for the hills.

When he finally pulled back and turned to grab their bags, he found Roman standing only a few meters away, looking more strung out than a ball of yarn rolled down a hill. His hand was once again hovering near his side as though seeking a weapon to draw, a nervous tell.

“Is he still… He’s kept his mind?” Roman asked, eyes flickering down to Patton for the briefest moment before returning to the intense stare he was directing at Virgil.

Patton reminded himself that in Roman’s eyes, the only reason a dragonwitch would take this form would be to wreak havoc, and managed to keep himself from frowning too overtly at the knight.

“Virgil is Virgil, no matter which form he’s in,” he replied, forcing some pep into his step as he scooped up the first of their bags. “He’s just a little more… caught up in his instincts, when he’s in this form.”

That was how Virgil had explained all the happy rumbling and gentle nudges the first time, at least. Patton had made the merciful decision not to tease him about the purring.

“Oh, so murder is still on the table, then,” Roman muttered, finally breaking the stare-off to avert his gaze as Patton sent him a pointed look. “Joking! Just a joke, much like the one our reptilian associate made mere moments ago!”

“Mhmm,” Patton hummed dubiously as he turned back to Virgil. “Well, Mister Jokester, it’s time to get moving! We wouldn’t want the daylight hours to drag-on without us!”

Apparently feeling more confident now that he was the size of a house, Virgil yawned loudly— the sight of which made Roman go a bit grey— and then settled into a resting position to allow Patton to clamber up onto his back.

It only took a handful of minutes for Patton to successfully haul up and tie down their bags, with Virgil’s ears carefully flicking back to listen to his humming as he made sure everything was tightly secured to the spikes along his dragonic friend’s spine.

It took more than twice that time for Roman to stop staring dumbfoundedly at Virgil and actually begin to approach.

Of course, the moment he got within a few meters range, Virgil’s large slitted pupil flicked over to watch the knight, making him freeze mid-step like a deer before a mountain lion.

Patton resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he slid down to stand at Virgil’s side. At this rate, they wouldn’t even get off the ground until noon.

“That’s Roman, remember?” he reminded Virgil, reaching up to pat his shoulder in the hopes of helping him refocus on the task at hand. “You looked after him while he was sick, and now he’s traveling with us for a bit.”

Virgil blinked, his gaze still following Roman’s every move, with far less irritation than Patton would have expected. His pupils had even rounded out slightly, making him look far more friendly in Patton’s opinion.

For some reason, this didn’t seem to reassure Roman.

“C’mon!” Patton gestured for Roman to approach, and Roman shook his head vehemently, as though Patton was insane for even asking.

As though prompted by the exchange, Virgil rumbled and shuffled around a bit in place, his paws creeping forward and head dipping lower in a pose that Patton didn’t recognize until he noticed the dragon’s tail swishing back and forth behind him.

Roman picked up on what was about to happen much quicker, going by the way he went pale and immediately attempted to scramble away.

“Virgil, wait—,” Patton attempted, and then sighed as his friend lunged forward like a cat pouncing, eliciting a terrified shriek from the knight they were supposed to be befriending.

Well. At least none of the bags had been jarred loose by the motion.

The screaming was a little concerning, but Patton was sure that Virgil wasn’t going to murder the guy or anything, so he didn’t bother rushing as he circled around to see what was going on.

What was going on was that Virgil had neatly pinned Roman down with one clawed paw, and was now snuffling at him intently.

Huh. That was a lot less aggressive posturing than Patton had expected, honestly. The more he watched, the more it looked like Virgil was checking Roman over the same way he had inspected Patton for injuries earlier, all gentle nudges and enquiring chuffs.

Not that one would have guessed listening to them. Roman yowled like he was being murdered for at least a solid half a minute after it became clear that there was no mauling going on. Patton pursed his lips, trying not to look too amused at the knight’s expense.

“He’s just checking on you,” he took the opportunity to say once Roman’s shouts had wound down to bewildered, rapid breathing. “He did the same to me, remember?”

Roman shot him a panicked, disbelieving glance from under his impromptu dragon-paw prison. “Yours was far less intensive than— than this!”

Patton shrugged. “Maybe he was just more worried because you were so sick for a while there?”

It made sense, when he thought about it. Virgil had always been a real mother hen whenever Patton so much as got the sniffles, and that was with a much smaller fraction of a dragon’s instinctual possessive worry. Patton had always endured his best friend’s neuroses about illness with as much patience as he could manage, but Roman hadn’t been willing to let Virgil do so much as a checkup once he’d woken up properly. Virgil’s pride wouldn’t let him insist on looking after the slayer after he was conscious enough to be kind of a jerk again, but not knowing the condition of someone he’d been responsible for had to be driving his friend crazy.

“Worried wasn’t really the impression I was getting from Virgil,” Roman gasped out, the tension in his frame slowly leaking away the longer he remained unharmed.

“Really?” Patton asked, a little surprised despite knowing his friend wasn’t exactly the open type. “Well, there’s your first lesson: Virgil’s always worried.”

The dragon in question glanced over at Patton a little sourly, and whuffled at Roman one last time before withdrawing, apparently entirely unapologetic for nearly scaring the soul out of their guest.

Roman lay on the ground for a moment longer, looking a little like he’d been struck by a runaway carriage. He sat up and patted himself down as though checking that he was still all in one piece.

He was, of course. Virgil sent him a slanted, disdainful look for thinking otherwise.

“Are you ready to give this a proper try, now?” Patton asked with an encouraging grin, reaching out to offer him a hand up.

Roman cleared his throat extensively, looking a little red around the ears, but ultimately accepted the help without much protest. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure.

This time, when he turned to survey Virgil’s draconic form, it was with more wary determination than outright fear.

“Very well,” he said, stepping forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

—

The third obstacle to their road trip was finding a place to stop for the night.

Not, as one might assume, because of a lack of safe or viable options on the ground below. No, it was convincing his companions to land at all that was proving to be the issue.

As it turned out, Roman’s fear of the flight had lasted for about as long as it took for Virgil to do his first midair spin, at which point he’d whooped with astounded delight so loudly that even folks on the next continent over had probably heard him.

“Gods above, you’re fast!” he’d gasped, clinging to Virgil’s leg as the land flashed by distantly below them. “There’s no way you could do that from higher up, though.”

It seemed Virgil was easier to goad than ever in this form, because he’d immediately taken a sharp incline, earning him yelps from his passengers. Between the two of them, the bulk of their flight was spent doing gravity-defying tricks and thrilling dives to just barely skim the mountains below.

Patton was glad they’d found something in common at last. He would have preferred they bond over a hobby that wasn’t so terribly dangerous and liable to make him so dizzy he upchucked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers!

He really was begging to reach land soon, though. Best friend or no, there was only so much strain a guy’s poor heart could take.

Plus, he’d plotted out their course with a little detour, and if they kept racing on like this, they might overshoot it completely. They were traveling all this way, it would be a downright shame if they couldn’t at least stop by and say hello to one of Virgil’s other buddies!

—

The fourth obstacle in their road trip was that Patton had forgotten just what kinds of acquaintances a Dragonwitch might have.

Or more importantly— what these acquaintances might think of the company Virgil was currently keeping.

This particular obstacle arrived at their camp that night in the form of an arm suddenly wrapping around Patton’s neck from behind, tugging him into a barely bearable chokehold as Virgil bolted to his feet and growled out a vicious warning.

Across from him, Roman was in a similar situation, but with a wicked-looking serrated blade pressed right up against his jugular, and a pair of unearthly yellow eyes visible over his shoulder.

“My, my,” a smooth voice broke the silence, making Virgil twitch. “I wonder what business a Faerin knight and his tagalongs have in my stretch of the woods?”

Uh oh. It looked like maybe their little detour would take longer than he’d expected…

[wanderingrestlessly]

well my spop fic buobba has finally “””Made It””” i guess bc i got someone reading all 68+k of my fic only to tell me in multiple comments that ‘this sucks’ and ‘the motivations of the characters don’t make sense’ like ???? don’t like don’t read buddy it really is that simple

(also for the love of everything please don’t be leaving critiques on my fics okay like. i write fanfiction for fun and to de-stress and that means there’s gonna be mistakes here and there and if u don’t like that then don’t read it)

[tedosterone]

ngl this shit killed me

(also if you haven’t read be unbroken or be brave again by @wanderingrestlessly you need to click that link ASAP it’s real important)

[delimeful]

Virgil inventing and reheating dinosaur nuggets at 3am:

Roman who just wanted a glass of fucking water:

yeah this checks out xD

[delimeful]

You meantioned in an older ask that buobba Virgil is really bad at pertending to be human, and that Patton had his suspicions about him not being human. What were some of the things Virgil had done or said that made Patton realize?

#just virgil things

- eats stuff he absolutely shouldnt be able to - lowkey rumbles when hes pleased or grumpy - really bad balance for someone so stealthy  - always running a few degrees hotter than he should - has tapetum lucidum 

[delimeful]

i love your stuff! but what are your favourite pieces you've done?

hmm i have a few unpublished pieces that im still honing & am quite fond of but for published ones... 

my dragonwitch virgil AU & my dukexiety superpowers oneshot make me smile whenever i reread them!

[delimeful]

...

a realization

in both wibar and minecraft au, when Roman and Virgil met, there was at least a brief mutual "I'm going to protect Patton from you, don't you dare try anything."

(I love that trope btw)

this also happens in my dragonwitch!virgil au! its almost like im always self indulging in tropes i love or something /j

[delimeful]

aw are there only two chapters of "Be Unbroken or Be Brave Again"? It's a really great series; I love it ajdjaksnaknsa

at the moment, sadly! i have big plans for that story though :)

[delimeful]

Speaking of Buobba (cause its just so good) when his glamour fell from the potion did he go full dragon or just the wings, tail, horns and eyes?

the potion simply revealed his normal features! (if he’d gone full dragon he would have ended up Way Bigger) dragonwitches are basically humanoids with a dragon form, so virgil being human-shaped with a few extra appendages is his true form, so to speak. full dragon is his Angery form lol

[delimeful]

hey uh hi i kinda stumbled onto your work by accident scrolling through g/t stuff and completely unexpectedly buobba utterly and completely stole my heart. i really hope you continue it, but if not, i'm excited to see what you come up with next!! your writing is so fun and you really nail the characters and i love the humans-and-monster-mutually-scared-of-each-other-but-both-secretly-babey trope please keep making cool stuff ok bye

aw, im so glad you enjoyed! i love that trope too ^w^ cant wait to write more for it!

[delimeful]

ik your fics are meant to be read as platonic and/or familial but the dragonwitch virgil one gives me INTENSE moxiety vibes like hhhhhh

thats the fun of ambiguous relationships in fic, you can read them as platonic or romantic depending on your preference <3 

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (1)

here it is! an AU ive been working on for a while that i am publishing today, 12/19, for our favorite emo nightmare’s birthday! :D hope you enjoy! 

warnings: blood, mention of illness and murder, injury, roman is a jerk but he’s just being an idiot, hurt/comfort

-

Virgil frowned, studying the tracks on the ground. Horse hooves, but more importantly, the treads of heavy boots. The same boots that had been following them from a slowly-decreasing distance for months now. He sighed, scuffing his own bare foot against the ground. 

The hunter was gaining ground too fast for comfort. 

If he had been alone, he could have lost the human easily. Would have lost him on day one, in fact. The reason his kind were so hard to track was because of their ability to take off and vanish into thin air, after all. Assuming they weren’t too busy starting massive fires, that was. 

Still, he wasn’t alone, and he had no plans to reveal his true self to the one person alive that tolerated him, so walking it was.

He turned to circle back around to camp, his leathery wings fluttering once on his back. It was dumb of him to let the glamor down in the open like this, but he couldn’t help but want to release the spell whenever he got the chance. It was taxing, hiding a bunch of his true features all the time, even in sleep. He would put it back up before he got to camp, but for now his horns and scales would stay, the same deep violet purple as his wings and tail. 

Those features were undoubtedly the reason the hunter was after them in the first place, probably to harvest his parts or slay him for the greater good or whatever nonsense Knights were always spouting about their reasons for murdering a whole species. He grit his teeth, fangs pressing into his lips near hard enough to cut.

He was used to such treatment, but Patton was perfectly human, and now he too was in danger because of Virgil. He should have taken more measures to hide their trail, shouldn’t have let the hunter catch his scent. Maybe he should have killed the last few that came after him. He imagined the look on Patton’s face if he ever found out and shook his head to dismiss the thought. He was as soft as ever when it came to humans, and he’d continue to be that way until he inevitably died. Probably his mom’s fault.

… Whatever. He’d make up some excuse to get him and Patton on the road again, take some shortcuts to lose their pursuer, and be more careful in the future. Lesson learned. 

A scraggly-looking tree he had marked earlier reminded him that he was getting closer to the clearing, and he quickly touched the stone between his collarbones to re-cast the glamor. It settled onto him like a heavy cloak, his senses becoming slightly muted, and he made sure to check his reflection in one of his daggers before moving on.

The clearing was fairly quiet, shielded from view by thick brush, but he could hear the soft movements of someone shuffling about in the dirt. Patton had already gotten back from gathering kindling, then. He pulled the canteens from his bag, to show that he had completed his own task.

“Hey, Pat, I found a river near-” His voice cut off as he realized that the man crouched in their campsite wasn’t Patton.

He was tall, with heavy leather armor covered in red sigils over every inch of him, kneeling in the dirt with one hand brushing the footprints that the two occupants had left in the camp. The same exact thing Virgil had been doing only minutes ago. Unquestionably a hunter by attire alone. 

The Knight’s head had snapped over to look at Virgil the moment he’d called out, and now they were frozen in a silent staring contest. Virgil let his gaze dip slightly to the sigil on the Knight’s shoulder, and paled at the sight of it. It was the Faerin coat of arms. 

A Knight from the Faerin Kingdom, known far and wide to be the most vicious and merciless to Dragonwitches. A Knight from an empire that he knew didn’t care about collateral damage any more than the dirt under their feet. 

A Knight that could hurt Patton, if the human got back to camp while Virgil was fighting him.

Without another thought, he bolted, the canteens dropping to the ground as he fled. There was a yell behind him, and he felt a wave of relief as the sound of footsteps took off behind him, a glance over his shoulder confirming that he was being chased doggedly. The Knight was taking the bait. Patton would be safe.

Now all he had to worry about was saving his own skin. 

He sprinted through the forest, twisting and ducking in case the Knight had projectiles. Maybe he didn’t even have to fight him. If he could outstrip the guy, he could double back and lose him, go back to the camp and get Patton and book it-

Twang!

He barely had time to register the thin, near-invisible wire he’d plowed through before something heavy and rough hit him head on, knocking him to the ground. He twisted around and dropped the glamor, trying to flare his wings and tail to get the offending object off, but it only got him more tangled in the metal netting. The trap- for what else could it be?- was weighed down at the edges by solid metal balls, so he couldn’t even rise to his feet to try and keep running. 

In a moment of desperation, he reached for the power of his other form, the one already snapping for control like a cornered animal. Nothing. The metal burned unnaturally against his skin, no doubt enchanted for the very purpose of holding him.

Loud footsteps made him still for a moment, and he summoned up a hateful glare as the Knight approached with an air of casualness. The bastard didn’t even seem out of breath. 

“Gotcha.” He said, voice arrogant, and Virgil snarled inhumanly at him between pants. “Oh, don’t be like that. Not my fault you were too slow.” 

He stepped closer, ignoring the threatening growl building in Virgil’s chest, and grabbed the upper arch of his left wing, entangled firmly in netting. He jerked away anyways, trying to thrash the limb, but the Knight’s grip held firm, fingers digging into the delicate flesh. “Let go!” 

“In a second, in a second.” The Knight’s face fell into a frown, deepening the longer he stared at the wing he was pulling on. “I suppose they look black in the right lighting…” He hummed, releasing the wing and circling back around to face Virgil from the front with a speculative gaze. 

Virgil’s lip curled up into a sneer. With the focus on his wings and scale color, this guy had to be a skinseller. Perfect. Just what he wanted to deal with today. Not.

The Knight flipped an ornate dagger from hand to hand, wandering slowly into range. He threw the dagger into the air with a frankly unnecessary amount of flair, and Virgil followed the shine of the blade carefully. “Committed any notable atrocities lately, monster?”

“Nothing more atrocious than that outfit.” Virgil shot back, voice rough and gravelly. He eyed the distance between the Knight’s hand and his teeth speculatively. Just a bit closer...

The knight placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture of offense. “Honestly, you must be delirious with stress to think I look anything other than fantastic.” He cast a judgmental eye at Virgil’s own appearance. “Maybe delirious with heatstroke, under all that black. I wonder, does the color of your terrible clothing choices carry over to your true form, beast?”

“Bite me,” Virgil spat, and then lunged at the Knight’s nearest hand, dagger be damned. The longer he kept this one occupied, the longer Patton had to realize something was wrong and get out of there. 

Unfortunately, the Knight was quicker. His target was yanked out of biting reach, and then fingers promptly wrapped around one of his horns and tugged, driving his face into the ground. He grunted in pain as something in his nose gave way with a pop, and warm blood started to drip down over his mouth.

“Nice try, Bitey,” the Knight said, ignoring the low, rumbling growl radiating from Virgil’s chest. He planted the dagger in the dirt, inches from his bloody face. “Now, how about you make this easier on yourself and tell me the scale color of your little friend you meant to meet back in that camp? What was their name… Pat?” 

Virgil stiffened, his tail lashing back and forth as much as it could while so entangled. “Fuck me and my big mouth,” he mumbled incoherently into the ground, grimacing at the taste of dirt. 

“What was that?” the Knight asked, pulling him upright so he could breathe properly again. Virgil cleared his throat a few times as though about to speak, and then opened his mouth and spat a mixture of blood, mud, and spit directly into the Knight’s face. 

The Knight dropped him like a hot potato. “Ugh, come on!”

He sounded so disgruntled that Virgil couldn’t help but laugh hoarsely from where he was laid out on the ground. “Too gross for you, Your Highness?” 

The hunter stiffened, pausing in the process of wiping his face to stare at Virgil with surprise. Virgil’s lips curled up slightly, vindicated by the hunter’s reaction. Got it in one. 

He bared his fangs in an unfriendly smile. “You think you’re being subtle? I’ve met plenty of hunters, and only idiots and nobility wear Faerin’s crest and finery like a badge of honor. Congrats on fitting in both categories.” 

The Knight scowled at him, hooking a hand in the wires and hauling him up by the shirt. Virgil managed to brace himself just before the Knight slammed him up against a tree, and he hissed a pained breath through his teeth as the bark scraped against his back and the soft in-between flesh of his wings. 

“And how many of those hunters are still around?” the Knight asked, deadly serious as he pressed his other arm against Virgil’s throat and leaned forwards until they were only inches apart. “How many did you kill? How did you slaughter them?” 

Virgil almost rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, struggling to breathe through the damn bloody nose. If he’d killed those hunters, there was no way this idiot would have ever caught wind of him, let alone tracked him down like this. Knights were all the same. They only heard what they wanted to hear.

“Come on, you already know. I did what you’re supposed to do with trash,” he rasped, inhaling deeply enough to make his lungs ache from the pressure. A purple haze began to leak from his lips. “Burned it.” 

The Knight’s eyes widened, and he leaned back as Virgil clicked the sparkscales in the back of his throat and ignited a breath of deep purple flame directly into the hunter’s face. He held it for as long as he could, his exhale finally sputtering out seconds later. 

The Knight stared back at him, unimpressed. His eyebrows were slightly singed, but the rest of him remained completely intact, courtesy of the protective charms embedded in his armor. The sigils glowed and pulsed like hot coals. “Did you really think that would work?” 

“Nah,” Virgil admitted, and then drove his knee into the Knight’s groin with all the force he could muster. “But this will.”

The Knight made a noise that sounded like a mix between a mouse’s dying squeak and the wheeze of someone getting all the air punched out of their lungs. Virgil grinned with immense satisfaction at the way his skin paled to the color of spoiled milk, and then took advantage of his loosened grip to slam his forehead against the Knight’s with a resounding crack.

“Freaking ow!” the Knight recoiled, finally letting go of him to step out of range. As soon as he was released, Virgil’s legs gave out from under him, leaving him collapsed at the base of the tree trunk. He had planned to try and stay upright, maybe make a grab for the dagger or even just make some progress on untangling the net, but… 

“What in the underworld is your skull made of?” he screeched, trying to blink away the spots in front of his eyes. It felt like he’d headbutted a concrete wall instead of a normal human. “Do you have rocks in there instead of a brain?”  

“Me?” the Knight scowled, pointing at him imperiously. “What did you think you were going to achieve? Who in their right mind uses dirty street fighting without being able to run away after? You’re wrapped in a net!” 

“Oh, I dunno,” Virgil really did roll his eyes this time, “maybe someone who doesn’t want to die?” 

The Knight stopped short, and turned away to take a deep breath before facing Virgil again with a less harsh expression. “Look, I admire your tenacity,” he admitted. “I’m looking for a particular dragonwitch, and I doubt that you’re it. I don’t want to kill you. You don’t even have to tell me anything that would give me an advantage in a fight against your friend. If you’ll just tell me what they look like, I can escort you to become a protected citizen of Faerin.”

Virgil snorted. “Oh, so I can have my powers suppressed and die slowly of tar-lung working in some harvester mine instead?” And that was if an uppity Knight didn’t randomly decide to execute him for existing too loudly. Protected citizen, his ass. “I’ll pass.”   

“Yes, your powers would be sealed for everyone’s safety. And dragonwitches can’t get tar-lung.” The Knight frowned at him in reprimand, and Virgil almost pitied him for his sheltered naivety. He’d be in for a rough time in towns after he passed the range of his kingdom’s influence. Everyone hated dragonwitches, but a fair few hated Faerin as well.

Oh well. Not his problem.

“Even if that was in any way appealing, I’m not the type to sell out my friends,” Virgil flared his wings one last time, as though the net would suddenly decide to answer his pleas and fall away. Instead, the metal only cut into his wings harder, and he dipped his chin to touch his soulstone, his glamor settling back over him and his aching wings fading into non corporeality. If the hunter wanted to kill a monster, he’d make himself look as human as possible.

He leaned his head back against the tree, tilting his chin up in challenge. Pinned behind his back, his hands trembled. “Be more merciful your kingdom, hunter, and give me a quick death.” 

As expected, the jab at his kingdom made his expression darken with anger. Chauvinists. So predictable.

“I already offered you mercy, and you refused it.” The Knight pulled a broadsword from its scabbard with a scraping of metal, and Virgil clenched his hands into fists, keeping his gaze locked with the hunter’s. How was he planning to strike? The head or the heart? Could he dodge like this? For how long? Was there a point?

“I suppose we’ll see if your body will lure your friend out of hiding.” The Knight lifted his blade high, the tip poised to stab down through Virgil’s heart.

In the next moment, a human-sized blur dove out of the trees, tackling him from the side with a battle cry and knocking the hunter clear off his feet. They both went tumbling, the sword sliding across the ground far out of reach of any party, and Virgil stared at his savior in disbelief. Who would be stupid enough to attack a Faerin Knight within the kingdom’s borders, all alone-?

The attacker sat up from where he was half-straddling the Knight, twisting to check on Virgil. “Are you okay?” he cried, face strained with worry. 

“Patton?” Virgil’s voice went up an octave, fear surging through him. He started clawing desperately at the netting again. “Patton, no, no no no you have to run! Get out of here!” 

The human’s face furrowed in confusion. “Wha-?” 

In the next moment, the hunter had surged up and reversed their positions, pinning Patton to the ground by his shoulders. Virgil lunged forwards and let out an inhuman screech as he toppled over, his struggles only making the trap tighten against his flesh further. 

“Aha!” the Knight declared, and pulled a waterskin from his belt triumphantly. He tugged the cap off with his teeth and splashed the liquid inside all over Patton’s face. 

Patton spluttered, completely unharmed. “Rude! What is the matter with you? Why are you attacking Virgil, he didn’t do anything to you!” 

The Knight gaped, shocked enough that Patton was able to shove him off and climb back to his feet. “What- you’re human?” 

Virgil tried to push himself into an upright position, his blood still rushing in his ears from the scare. “Patton, please, you’ve got to get out of here!”

Patton, the wonderful idiot, gasped at the sight of him, bloodied and bruised, and immediately headed towards him. “Don’t worry, Virgil! I’ll help you!”

Virgil resisted the urge to groan, and then tensed against the net again as the Knight grabbed Patton’s wrist to stop him. “Wait!”

“Oh, what now?” Patton asked scornfully, with the sort of this-better-be-good expression that would have had Virgil properly abashed for at least an hour.

The Knight barely faltered, a testimony to his bravery. “You don’t have to listen to this foul beast’s orders anymore! You’re free.” And there was a testimony to his idiocy.

“What foul beast?” Patton’s frown only grew more severe as the Knight gestured expansively to Virgil’s entangled form. He pulled his wrist free to jab a finger into Roman’s chest. “That’s Virgil, and I don’t know what ale you’ve been drinking, sir, but it must have gone sour, because he’s just as human as you and me!” 

Virgil felt a chill go down his spine. Now that he wasn’t imminently facing the worst possible scenario (Patton dying), he had enough clarity to be terrified about facing the second-worst possible scenario (Patton finding out he wasn’t human). The Knight looked between the two of them, gaze settling on Virgil, probably easily reading the guilt written all over his face.

“You’ve been tricked,” he voiced his realization aloud, and held a hand up to stop Patton from going further. “Not to fear! I can prove my claim to you. I have an elixir that destroys any glamor upon contact. I’ll show you.” 

Ignoring Patton’s protests, the Knight strode up to where Virgil was propped up on one arm, his lips thin with anger. Virgil leaned back as he knelt next to him and met cold eyes, knowing it was meaningless to plead but desperate enough to try anyways. “Please.”

“Were you planning on granting that man a merciful death when you got tired of toying with him, demon?” the Knight asked with a voice like ice. Virgil didn’t even have time to open his mouth before the waterskin was upended over his head.

The elixir burned as all human magic did, and as he hissed, his glamor cracked away like ash to reveal his slitted pupils, his pointed ears, his dark scales. All irrefutable proof of his true nature. 

A sharp inhale made him look up, and he met Patton’s shocked gaze. “V… Virgil?” 

The fear in Patton’s soft brown eyes was like a physical blow. He looked away, noting the way the Knight stood between him and Patton protectively. He’d retrieved his sword.

“You can see the truth, clear as day,” the Knight spoke gently, but his words were harsh. “This is no friend of yours. The monster was only pretending to be human to lull you into a false sense of security. It’s a… common tactic for dragonwitches that prefer to,” the Knight grimaced, “play with their food. I’m sorry.”

“Virgil? That’s not true… is it?” Patton sounded near tears, and though he’d had nightmares about this exact scene frequently, he had never realized the way it would hurt, to hear his only friend doubt him. 

He opened his mouth, the words all on the edge of forming. Of course it wasn’t true! He would die before he hurt Patton, he would do anything to keep him safe. The very idea that he would ever devour his friend made him feel as though he was a second from throwing up.

All these defenses and more sprang to his mind, clamoring over each other, and yet- 

His mouth shut with a click. What would happen if he convinced Patton of his innocence? What would the Knight do? What would Patton do, to protect him? If there was one thing Faerin Knights excelled at, it was killing innocents. He was still trapped. He couldn’t do anything if the Knight turned his blade on Patton. 

He had to make sure Patton wouldn’t put himself at risk like that. He… He would do anything to keep Patton safe.

Even if that meant being the villain the Knight wanted to slay. 

Virgil swallowed thickly, forcing away the desolation to focus on what mattered. If he had to put on a show, it would have to be convincing. Patton would never believe it otherwise.

He let the last scraps of the glamor fall away, let his face shutter off into something dismissive and uncaring. “So you got me. I just wanted an easy meal at hand, is that such a crime?”

The knight stood tall, proud of having broken through a monster’s disguise. He looked down at Virgil with disgust. “Eating people is and probably always has been a crime, yes.”

He shrugged with loose shoulders. “S’not my fault snacks are so easy to fool these days.” His eyes caught Patton’s again, and he forced himself not to look away from the heartbroken expression. “If you really thought we were friends, you’re even stupider than I thought. Looks like your family really did pick the wrong one to die for.”

Patton’s face crumpled immediately, and he let out a sob. The Knight stepped in front of him, blocking Virgil’s gaze. His eyes dropped to the sword in his hand, and he felt a twisted sort of relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’d just said those awful things, that he’d taken what Patton had confided in him and turned it into something sharp to hurt him with. 

“Don’t worry. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else, anymore,” the Knight reassured Patton, and stepped forward with menace in every movement. 

Virgil forced himself to stay still, squeezed his eyes shut and ignored his racing heart. He was silent as the prince raised his blade, compliant because if it meant it wouldn’t be turned on Patton then it was worth it. It would always be worth it. 

He waited for the swing of the blade, the last thing he would ever hear- 

Clunk. 

The Knight made a strangled sound. Virgil’s eyes opened of their own accord, watching as the hunter swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then collapsed bonelessly onto the ground. 

Just behind him, Patton stood, clutching a rock the size of his head in both hands. He was looking down at the fallen Knight with an expression that was just as stunned as Virgil felt, and dropped the rock to the forest floor with a thud. 

He took an uncertain, wobbling step towards Virgil, and he couldn’t help but flinch back because anything Patton did to him right now would be justified, but it would still hurt-

-and then there were suddenly trembling arms around him, tugging him into a hug against a warm chest. He froze, body stiff. “Patton...?” 

“You are a terrible liar,” Patton informed him wetly, “and you’re my best friend, you dummy. Human or not.” 

His voice was thick with tears, hitching with every breath, but it was devoid of hatred or fury or fear that in that moment, Virgil had never heard anything so comforting. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, and then, as though the words had broken a dam of tension within him, he immediately started muffling his own strangled, hiccuping sobs into Patton’s neck. “I didn’t m-mean any of that, I swear, I just- I’m sorry for not telling you. I was- I was scared.” 

“You were scared?” He could barely move his arms in the net, but Patton was doing enough clinging for both of them, limbs wrapped around him like a koala as he spoke. “When I realized that you’re actually a dragonwitch, I thought for sure that hunter was going to try and kill you! Again! That’s two murder attempts too many!”

Virgil made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-sniffle, and set his chin on Patton’s shoulder. “You’re really not mad?”

“Yeah. I’m not mad.” Patton stuck his hand under the net’s grooves and combed his fingers through Virgil’s hair soothingly, barely hesitating over the ridges where his horns met his skull. “It’s okay. I… I get it, Virge. I forgive you.”

The simple statement set him off again, which set Patton off again, and they went through a whole second round of tears and snot before Virgil felt coherent enough to speak once more. 

“What are we gonna do with that guy?”

Patton pulled away from him slightly so they could both stare at the unconscious body of the hunter. The guy totally had a head wound. Looked like his thick skull could be defeated after all.  

“Well…” Patton wiped a sleeve over his nose and then tapped his chin in consideration. “It’s been a while since we visited home. We could take him there. You could carry us there! Oh, we can travel places so fast now!” 

Virgil gave him a flat stare, ignoring the flying comment for the moment. “You want to take a Faerin Knight. To our house.” 

“Well, I’d feel kind of bad leaving him here with a nasty head wound like that!” Patton said, as though he wasn’t the one who had caused the injury. Or, more likely, because he was the one who had caused the injury. Virgil sighed. 

“Yeah, okay, fine. But I’m not going to like it. And he’s definitely not going to like it. And I’m not babysitting him.”

[delimeful]

6 and/or 12 for the writer ask meme? :3

Anonymous said: 6 for the ask thing

@enby-phoenix said: 6. Favorite character you’ve written? (counting, for example, wibar Logan and ccftd Logan as separate characters)

Anonymous said: 12. Wich story of yours do you like best? Why? 🇩🇰-Anon

6. Favorite character you’ve written? 

hmm... that’s really hard! 

the easiest character for me to write is always virgil in pretty much any ‘verse, both because of practice and the voice ive cultivated for him in my brain. 

the character i had the most fun writing is probably patton from the original first installment of WIBAR! it was my first time working from such an alien POV and i ended up having so much fun with it! not to mention the gradual trust building and h/c i got to write with him :)

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why?

this might be surprising, but out of all the fanfic ive written for this blog, it’s actually be unbroken or be brave again that’s my favorite! 

it just combines so many of my favorite most self indulgent tropes! patton & virgil, determined but misguided roman, humor & h/c, dragonwitch!virgil, enemies to friends field trips, and *redacted for spoilers*

its not one of my more popular works by any means, but i had a really fun time writing the first two chapters and im still quite fond of the AU! ^^

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (2)

warnings: misunderstandings, technical kidnapping, roman’s overactive imagination, dehumanization, tragic backstories, past minor character death 

chapter 1 here!

-

Prince Roman of Faerin woke up with his hands tied down to a couch and a bitching headache. One of these things was considerably more concerning than the other. 

He dragged himself into consciousness bit by bit, trying to figure out exactly what had happened, and then jerked up when his memory finally deigned to remind him that he’d been hit over the head with a rock. 

Seeing as he was tied to a couch with what felt like a truly grievous head wound, he got about three inches up before collapsing back to the soft cushions in agony. There was a resigned sigh nearby. 

“Up again, Princey?” a concerningly familiar voice asked. Roman craned his neck up again, headache be damned, and was rewarded with the deeply upsetting sight of the dragonwitch he’d been hunting for months sitting on the back of an armchair five feet away. 

Despite his casual greeting, the dragonwitch-- his name had started with a ‘V’ but Roman felt a bit too concussed to recall properly-- seemed surprised when Roman actually met his mismatched eyes. Not as surprised as Roman was to still be alive, but surprised nonetheless. 

“Oh,” the beast said, and then turned his body slightly to face an adjacent door, his balance shifting slightly where he was perched. “Hey, Pat, the fresh meat is awake. For real this time.” 

Roman abruptly felt all the blood drain from his face, realizing exactly why he’d been kept alive. The other human was still alive too, meaning that he was in on this sick and twisted plot. To think, he’d been fooled by those crocodile tears, that vulnerable disposition! Their acting skills were refined; how many innocents had they captured with such trickery? 

“Coming!” There were a few clatters from the other room, and then the person in question poked his head out from the doorway. Pat brightened at the sight of him, which made sense because they obviously wanted their victim alive and kicking for whatever torment was in store before… 

Roman’s eyes flicked back over to the dragonwitch, who was watching him keenly, and shuddered. Patton stepped into the room proper, wiping his hands off with a patterned dish towel. “Hey there, kiddo! Try to move slowly, your head isn’t fully healed yet.” 

Roman grunted a vague refusal and twisted his wrists around a few times, hoping to find some give in the knots tied round his arms. He believed he was being rather discreet about it, so he nearly jumped out of his skin when Pat hurried over to his side. Perhaps he was more injured than he’d thought. He flinched back, waiting for the restraints to be tightened or some punishment to be delivered for his disobedience. 

“Oh, I’m sorry about those,” the voice was dripping with remorse, nimble fingers pulling at the knots until they unravelled entirely. Huh? “You’ve got a bad habit of sleep-walking, and sleep-talking, and sleep-other-things, especially with your concussion, so we had to keep you in place somehow. Otherwise you’d keep running into things, and then you’d never heal!” 

Roman snatched his hands back to himself and immediately scuttled backwards to the other side of the couch once he was freed, ignoring the way his head throbbed painfully. He looked up to find the dragonwitch hovering over Pat’s shoulder with narrowed eyes. Roman scowled right back, his hand dropping to the hilt of his knife— and meeting only air. 

He cursed internally. Of course they wouldn’t have left him armed. They were clearly well-practiced at abducting unwilling captives. 

“Looking for this, Princey?” the beast asked, and held up his hand, the dull edge of the blade tucked between two fingers. He flipped it into the air and caught it with a casual gesture, and Roman couldn’t help but clench his fists. If the dagger broke from such careless handling… 

“Give it back,” he demanded, his voice coming out rough and crackly. 

“Hmm, yeah, no.” The dragonwitch slouched against the nearby wall and began to balance the tip of the blade on his claw. “It’s confiscated until you learn how to play nice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot with rage, but was interrupted by Pat bustling over into his space, pressing a cool glass of water into his hand. “Here, you must be parched after all that sleeping!” 

He stared at the cup for a long moment, and then immediately tossed its contents directly into Pat’s face, soaking him. 

“I’m not taking anything from you, you evil, despicable traitor!” He threw the glass at Pat’s head for good measure, incensed. 

The dragonwitch appeared at their side like he’d teleported, the glass thunking into his hand like a ball to a mitt. “Hey,” he growled, expression thunderous. 

Before he could really start tearing into Roman, metaphorically or literally, a hand patted at his side gently.

“It’s okay, Virgil. I won’t pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings, but we did kinda sorta technically kidnap him.” Pat pulled his glasses off, flicking them a couple times to try and get rid of the worst of the water. 

Once they were settled back on his face, he offered Roman another one of those earnest smiles. He looked like a soggy puppy, which shouldn’t be allowed considering he was abducting people to feed to a monster. 

“Let’s try this again,” he offered, extending a hand. “Hi! My name is Patton, and this is Virgil!” 

The dragonwitch looked like he was going to shatter the glass in his hand and use the glass pieces to filet him like a fish. Roman gave him his best sneer. “We’ve met.” 

“I think I liked you better when you were half-dead,” the beast muttered. Roman sneered harder. 

Patton continued to blink at him for a long moment, presumably waiting for him to introduce himself. Roman crossed his arms defiantly until the man retracted his hand. 

“Well, how are you feeling?” he asked, undeterred. Roman snorted derisively, trying to keep the hopelessness of the situation from overwhelming him.

“I’ve been abducted by a maniac who feeds his own kind to monsters, how do you think I feel?” he snapped, glancing at the windows. There was no way he’d make it before the dragonwitch pounced, but it was better than not trying to escape at all. 

“I— what?” Patton asked, mouth agape. Behind him, the beast’s face wrinkled in displeasure, probably from Roman having the gall to call him out. He tilted his chin up in challenge stubbornly. 

In the next moment, Patton giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth when they both turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, it’s just— what are you talking about, silly? Virgil isn’t going to eat you!” 

He cast a dubious glare at the dragonwitch in question, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a sharp-toothed, not-very-friendly smile, “I don’t like the taste of arrogant princes.”

“Virgil! Not helping!” Patton swatted at him, shaking his head wryly, and the monster ducked away with a slight twist of his lips. Roman watched with wary eyes, unable to believe it when the dragonwitch didn’t even bother to retaliate at the jab to his authority. Before, too, he’d subsided at Patton’s word despite being quite clearly furious.

He slowly leaned back against the couch, mind racing. It looked like he had misinterpreted the situation.

Clearly, Patton had to be a powerful evil mage to have enchanted a dragonwitch into this all-encompassing subservience with so little strain.

His manipulations went deep enough to even have the beast fooled into thinking they were friends, had him willing to die for the mage. He shuddered to imagine what the mage would do with a prince of Faerin as a puppet. 

That had to be avoided at all costs, Roman decided as he reluctantly allowed the evil mage in question to press another glass of probably-drugged water into his hand. He had to be more subtle about his rebellion, and he needed an ally. 

His gaze slid over to where the dragonwitch was in the process of perching on a windowsill much too small to serve as a proper seat. He was loathe to work with a monster, but… the enemy of his enemy was his friend, right? Or at the very least, if he could appeal to the beast’s desire for freedom, a potential distraction.

The next time Patton ducked back into the kitchen, he made direct eye contact with the dragonwitch and tipped the contents of his glass into a nearby houseplant. The beast snorted and rolled his eyes rudely, but made no move to stop him or tell Patton about his deceit. Roman let his lips curl up slightly. 

This just might work. 

-

The problem with trying to get through the dragonwitch’s brainwashing was that it required the dragonwitch to be alone with him long enough to actually have a conversation. 

Patton was always just around the corner, popping in on him, offering him food or books or other gifts like some sort of over-exuberant fae. Checking to make sure that he was still properly captive in the guise of fussing over his injuries, and all the while the dragonwitch lounged on some surface that wasn’t meant to be sat on, frustratingly out of range. 

In fact, the dragonwitch was only near him when he was escorting Roman to the bathroom, and he had exactly zero tolerance for any stalling tactics Roman tried. He’d picked up on the attachment Roman had to the dagger, and obviously wasn’t above using that to blackmail him into behaving. 

For days, he seethed under their constant surveillance, always bracing for the first signs of magic brainwashing to appear in him. It seemed as though Patton was perfectly content to enchant him at the mage’s own convenience, so he was simply left to wait in painful anticipation. 

His chance finally arrived early one morning when he woke to the sight of the dragonwitch sprawled across an armchair and the conspicuous absence of any noise from the kitchen. His eyes flicked between the beast and the doorway, wondering if this was his opportunity. The dragonwitch ignored his clear confusion, so he cleared his throat primly. 

“Where is Patton?” he asked shortly. 

The dragonwitch didn’t acknowledge him for a long moment, yawning leisurely and displaying vicious fangs. Then, 

“Pat’s out cutting wood.” 

A surge of excitement passed through him, clearing away any lingering sleepiness, and he sat up fully. He’d had more than enough time to consider how he would approach the subject. The first step to breaking a mage’s control was to force the creature to confront the fact that it was being controlled. 

“You know, whatever you want from me, you won’t get it,” he said without any preamble, putting on his best scowl. “You should just kill me already, put the both of us out of our misery. I’m sure a malignant monster like you is sick and tired of playing nursemaid to a dragon slayer.”  

He looked the dragonwitch up and down derisively for good measure, internally cheering at the way a muscle in his cheek jumped with irritation. Naturally, the creature would have killed and/or devoured him by now if not for the mage’s bidding, so making him wonder why exactly he wasn’t doing that would aid Roman’s quest greatly.   

“Nice try,” the dragonwitch said, idly inspecting his claws, “but no, we’re not killing you. We’ll figure out what to do with you eventually, but till then you’re stuck with us.”

Roman pretended that there wasn’t a shiver running down his spine at the words, instead forcing his expression into a twisted sort of pity. “Patton will figure out what to do with me eventually, you mean.” 

The beast raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean both of us. Pat can be awful soft sometimes. If it were up to him, he’d have you here forever, I’m sure. Be glad I’m here to remind him that you’re still a stubborn Faerin asshole.”

Roman forced back the surge of mixed nausea and fury, instead shaking his head despairingly. “Do you truly not see the truth? You foolish creature, that mage is clearly controlling you.” 

Those mismatched eyes stared at him for a long moment, slit pupils uncannily inhuman, and Roman felt the back of his neck prickle with sweat. After a moment, though, his head dropped forward, obscuring his expression as his shoulders began to shake. 

Roman leaned back, anticipating some kind of blow up. Had he done it? Was the creature awakened?

“Y-- You think,” The dragonwitch started weakly, finally lifting his head. Roman gaped at the sight of his face, watching him wipe away mirth-filled tears.  

“You’re LAUGHING?” 

“You think-- ha, oh my god-- you think Patton is a mage?” the dragonwitch continued, barely able to get the words out between stuttered, gasping laughter. “You think he’s the-- ha ha, secret mastermind behind all of this?” 

His voice was mocking, and Roman flushed against his will. “Obviously! It’s-- it’s the only explanation!” 

The dragonwitch only laughed harder. 

“Why else would you not be trying to kill me right now?!” Roman demanded, frazzled and thrown off-script. Like a flip had been switched, the laughter finally stopped short. 

The beast’s amusement dropped away, face shuttering back to that neutral displeasure. His body had gone tense, and Roman couldn’t help but shy back slightly, anticipating an attack at any moment. 

The silence was shattered by the front door swinging open, Patton stepping inside with an armful of freshly chopped wood. The dragonwitch rose sharply, turning on his heel and storming out the door with a curt, “Your turn on babysitting duty,” thrown over his shoulder. The door slammed behind him.

Patton immediately turned and leveled a disappointed look at Roman, who tried not to wilt. He was a grown adult, damn it! He was not going to cave to the discouraging gaze of his kidnapper! 

“What did you say to him?” Patton asked sternly as he carried the firewood over to the dwindling stack by the fireplace. Roman pointedly did not sulk. 

“I asked a perfectly reasonable question,” he said snippily, turning his nose up for effect. 

“Which was…?” 

Even if Patton really wasn’t a mage, his disheartened-parent voice was bafflingly accurate. 

“... I simply wished to know why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to kill me. Assuming you aren’t some kind of puppeteer-- which I’m am still undecided on, by the way-- there’s no reason he shouldn't take my life for threatening him. You aren’t strong enough to stop him, and my unconscious body certainly couldn’t.” 

Patton sighed, shoulders slumping as he walked over to sit in the rocking chair next to Roman’s couch jail. His face looked deeply weary for a moment, making him seem much older. He began to draw nonsensical lines on his palm with one hand.

“Roman, let me tell you a story,” he started, and despite himself, Roman leaned in to listen. He’d always been a sucker for traveler tales. “It’s about a boy who was part of a big, loving family, living a joyful life in a little town named Port Greyson.” 

The name hit him like a pommel to the gut. He stiffened abruptly, eyes wide. “Who told you this story?” he demanded, voice wavering slightly. 

If Virgil had been the one to torch his home, to kill his best friend, there would be no forgiveness. He would strike the beast down or die trying.

Patton’s eyes flicked up at his tone, but he didn’t answer, still tracing patterns on himself.  

“The boy’s name was Patton.” Patton continued, voice carefully measured, and what? There had been other survivors? 

“He was happy until the day the calamity fell, and his family was killed before his eyes, trying to protect him.” Roman closed his mouth with an audible click. “He ran and ran and ran but the fires spread so fast, and he was sure he’d die and his family’s sacrifice would be in vain.

“And then… an angel.” Patton said, a sad smile on his lips. “Barreling through the flames as though they couldn’t even touch him, eyes wild, searching for someone to save. And I was that someone.” 

Roman started to get an idea of where this was going. “A dragonwitch. Your dragonwitch.” 

“My best friend,” Patton confirmed, folding his hands over each other. “He’s all the family I have left, at this point.” 

“He-- He was there?” Roman asked, a thousand conflicting thoughts piling up in his head. “How do you know-- What if he was the one who set it all aflame in the first place?” 

To his surprise, Patton didn’t glare at him for the implication. He seemed oddly far away. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him, that day. He got me out and tried to run right back in, even though his face was covered in ash and his skin was peeling and burning. He stayed in human form the whole time, no doubt because he knew any survivors would be terrified of an approaching dragonwitch, no matter what his intentions were.” He visibly forced his mind back to the present.

“Even so, I know for absolute sure that it wasn’t him because I saw the one who did it.”

Roman’s whole body tensed up, all of his attention on Patton. This was the moment where he would figure out if the man was a simple monster sympathizer, lying about everything… or a genuine survivor of the worst day of Roman’s life. “Tell me.” 

“It was a dragon,” Patton recalled, and his hands finally stilled. “A huge one, black as night, that shook the ground like an earthquake when it landed. It took my family too long to understand what was going on, but by the time we figured it out, our house was already beginning to collapse, the air around us hot enough to burn. I-“ 

His mouth trembled for a moment, but he pushed on, words stilted. “I was barely thirteen years, the baby of the family. My parents and my older siblings carried me through the forge-hot fires, and I was passed from hand to hand until there was no one left to hold me. The dragon-- I could hear it call out nearby the entire time, cries unearthly—“ 

“— and full of rage,” Roman finished, echoes of the sound ringing in his ears. “I hear it in my nightmares.” 

“You were there?” Patton asked, a new understanding lighting in his eyes. Roman nodded, slowly. 

“I was. On the… the outskirts. But I didn’t see the beast until it fled, and it looked— small. Adolescent. You’re certain—?”

“It might be that I misremembered it’s size, since I was smaller then, but I’m sure it wasn’t Virgil,” Patton cut him off sternly, before softening slightly. “Super extra sure since now I’ve seen his dragon form! He’s all purple.”

The half-form had had wings and a tail that were much the same, Roman knew. He paused. “Wait, he was in his true form? When did you see that?”

Dragonwitches took that form to destroy, to burn towns and people alike to the ground. Why had Virgil taken it? What had he done while Roman was unconscious? 

“When we were flying you back here, of course! He’s so cute, you wouldn’t believe it!” Patton gushed, flapping his hands. Roman’s panicked thoughts ground to an abrupt halt at the idea of being carried by a dragon. 

“And he didn’t drop me?” he muttered unthinkingly, shivering at the idea of waking up to the landscape far, far below. 

A light smack on his arm made him jolt, and he looked up to meet Patton’s scolding expression. “That’s why he left, y’know. You treat him like a ticking time bomb instead of a person.” 

“Because he’s not a person! He’s a dragonwitch!” Roman blurted, his hands coming up to clutch at his hair in frustration. “Dragonwitches are evil, their powers are corrupting and they terrorize and pillage and kill innocent people! Every last one! You should know this!” You witnessed it yourself, he doesn’t say.

Patton looked at him with blatant pity, slowly reaching out and tugging lightly on his wrists until he stopped pulling at his hair. “You and I are living proof that that’s not true,” he said, voice quiet but resolved. Roman shook his head, not even sure what he was disagreeing with at this point. “I can’t change your mind for you, Roman.

“I know what it’s like to lose important people and want to hurt those you deem responsible. But Virgil has been hunted by humans his whole life, and he still cares for me to the point of self-destruction. He still looked after you when you were suffering the effects of your injury.” 

“He— what?” Roman thought about the cool hands on his head, the gentle murmured reassurances when he whined, and his cheeks flared up with embarrassment. “I thought that was you.”

“You spent a lot of time lashing out at anyone who woke you,” Patton explained easily. “Virgil wouldn’t let me near. He did a good job looking after you, though.”

A soothing hum as he mumbled half-formed thoughts, a hand gripping his as he cried out at the memories playing out in his dreams. Virgil’s words from before rang in his head. “I think I liked you better when you were half-dead.”

“Well,” Roman said, thoroughly nonplussed. “That’s… embarrassing.” 

“Just a little bit,” Patton agreed with a grin, patting the back of his hand. He hummed thoughtfully. “How about this: I’ll make you a deal! The non-magic kind.” He winked teasingly, and some of the color returned to Roman’s cheeks.

“I’m beginning to get the feeling I will never live that assumption down,” he grumped. “... What kind of deal?” 

“Virgil told me he thought you were a skinseller, because you were looking for a specific scale color.” Patton nodded at Roman’s expression of disgust at the idea. “I thought there was probably something different going on, and I’ve got a fair idea now, I think. So, I’ll offer this!

“We know a wizard who does business with dragonwitches. If our dragon has been active anywhere in that area, they’ll have gone to get information or materials from the wizard.” Roman felt a thrum of anticipation in his chest. This was the most concrete lead he’d gotten in ages. 

“We’ll take you there, on one condition,” Patton said, holding up one finger. “I want you to reconsider what you’ve been told about dragonwitches, and give Virgil a chance.” 

“That’s technically two things,” Roman pointed out, just to be difficult. Patton raised both eyebrows at him. “But, yeah, I… I can do that. 

“It’s a deal.”

[delimeful]

I reread the dragon witch AU and I can’t stop thinking about this—Virgil at the end of Chapter 1: “And I’m NOT babysitting him.” Virgil as soon as they get back home: “I’ve only had this dumbass naive prince for half a day, but if anything happened to him or Patton I would kill everybody in Faerin and then myself”

virgil looking after a concussed roman like “i will not get attached. i will not get attached. i will n-- FUCK”

patton, in the other room: :3 

virgil: SHUT

[delimeful]

Ooh! What if tsits Virgil and buobba Virgil met?

buobba virge wont stop calling tsits virge a hatchling and hes on the edge of mcfreaking losing it