#subscorpweek2021

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 4: Lust 1/3

I AM SO MAD ABOUT THIS PROMPT!!! IT GOT RIDICULOUSLY LONG!!! LIKE, AN UNREASONABLE LENGTH OF FIC WAS ACHIEVED THROUGH THIS PROMPT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EASIEST ONE!!! WHY IS MY BRAIN LIKE THIS!!!

Special shoutout to all of the wonderful, lovely, ridiculously patient people on discord who weathered me complaining about my stupid hellbrain lolol

Only part 1 tonight since I literally spent all day writing nearly 10k words, and there’s no way I can edit it and also sleep before my shift LOL

Read it on AO3.

Part 2

It would have been kinder, perhaps, to simply announce his arrival, but Hanzo had grown so fond of being amused in recent years and he could not resist the urge to indulge.

Gathering a handful of small stones, Hanzo climbed the nearest building and darted across the sun-baked clay of the rooftops, careful to remain unseen as he trailed his target.

A smile curled his lips beneath his mask. He waited until he was sure he was completely concealed, then let loose one of the pebbles in his grasp—a direct hit to the back of Kuai Liang's head.

The sight of Kuai Liang's flinch, as well as the sharp snap of attention and his dark expression of annoyance and suspicion through the crowded, dusty streets of the road, stretched Hanzo's smile into a grin. He bled into the shadows, knowing he would have to be swift if he wanted to stay ahead of Kuai Liang's attention.

He only managed one more stone's throw before Kuai Liang wisened up and scaled the nearest building. He was no fool, and tracing the stone's trajectory was a simple thing. Hanzo was forced to duck behind any cover he could find to avoid the Lin Kuei Grandmaster's thorough, careful scrutiny of his surroundings.

His next throw would be his last, he knew. He would have to make it count if he did not wish to be caught.

Hanzo crouched low and waited for his moment. The instant Kuai Liang turned, still scanning his surroundings for any movement, he sent his last stone flying.

He saw the beginning motion of Kuai Liang's whip-fast reaction, hand darting up in a flash to catch the stone, but Hanzo was already gone, swallowed in hellfire, and before Kuai Liang's fist fully closed around the rock, Hanzo appeared directly behind him.

Hanzo didn't hesitate. He tackled Kuai Liang to the roof, perched atop his chest before he could react.

Blinking in the harsh sunlight, Kuai Liang's scowl of deadly promise melted away into shock.

"Hanzo?"

Hanzo smirked. "Is this the standard of Lin Kuei assassins?" Hanzo shook his head. "Perhaps I should reconsider allying myself with a clan that is so soft."

Kuai Liang's eyes narrowed in a glare, but it was lessened by the reluctant smile that tugged on his lips, as if against his better judgment.

"I think I am the one who should be reconsidering my allies, if they are so eager to attack me on the streets," Kuai Liang pointed out, and Hanzo chuckled, finally stood and offered his arm.

Kuai Liang took the offered hand and absently brushed himself as he stood. His dark eyes, pleased and curious in equal measure, peered at Hanzo with confusion.

"What brings you to Outworld, Hanzo? And to me, specifically?"

Hanzo crossed his arms, gazing across the sand-dusted streets and modest abodes of the city, half of it hollowed out from the bright red clay of a mountain.

"I had received word that you accepted a mission from the Thunder God." Hanzo's face darkened with a grimace. "I would be neglecting the conditions of our alliance if I did not aide you."

"My mission is one of reconnaissance, Hanzo," Kuai Liang said, brow furrowed. "My life is hardly in danger."

"No mission from Raiden is as simple as he makes it seem," Hanzo said darkly. The loss of his clan—again—still burned. "If my presence is an insult, I beg your forgiveness," Hanzo continued, and he bowed. When he rose, he met Kuai Liang's eyes dead-on, determined and stubborn. "Allow me to accompany you, if only to set my mind at ease."

Kuai Liang had appeared taken aback at first, but understanding quickly bled onto his expression, and no little guilt. His own memories of the Kamidogu, and the manipulation he'd suffered, did not appear to have been forgotten either.

"...I accept your offer, Hanzo. Thank you." Kuai Liang said, and he returned the bow. "Shall we?"

The Thunder God's power had sent Kuai Liang to an Outworld city, but Kuai Liang's true destination laid deeper in the forest. An ancient temple, Kuai Liang informed him, long abandoned, had been rumored to have worshippers once more. Raiden merely wanted confirmation of such a thing, to decide his next move. The worship once practiced there had been forbidden, one steeped in ritual sacrifice and practices so brutal and cruel that even Outlanders shunned it, and if some sort of revival was in the making, Raiden suspected it would only be a matter of time before the cult spilled into Earthrealm and claimed the inhabitants there for their depraved rituals.

A simple mission, but one that did nothing to abate the uneasy feeling that had overcome Hanzo from the moment he'd learned of Kuai Liang's undertaking. He had not lied to Kuai Liang for his reasons for being here, but he had neglected the full truth: that, more than anything, he worried for his friend and what might happen to him when caught up in another machination of a God.

Once Kuai Liang had debriefed him, they fell into silence, traveling the forest with their ears peeled for the slightest sound that stuck out: voices, a footstep, anything that would confirm Raiden's suspicions. But caution and vigilance would only help them so much if Raiden had sent them into some sort of trap.

Hanzo pushed the worry from his mind. Nothing will happen to him. I will ensure it, he vowed.

The temple emerged from the trees when they were nearly on top of it. If it had been recently re-occupied, it did not show on the outside. The forest had been allowed to encroach upon it, nearly to the doors, and lichen and vines covered the side of the crumbling stone building as nature reclaimed it.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang knelt side by side as they observed the building, but it truly seemed abandoned.

"Shall we take a closer look?" Kuai Liang asked once it was plain they were quite alone outside.

Hanzo repressed a grimace; telling Kuai Liang he had a 'bad feeling' was out of the question, unless he wanted to make Kuai Liang think he indulged silly superstition and thus, lose his respect forever.

Hanzo nodded. They took a closer look.

Their steps were slow and cautious as they climbed the sun-bleached steps. Cracks and fissures stretched across nearly every surface, and while the stains were very faint, Hanzo still recognized the dried blood dotted across the stone.

It only took a few minutes to carefully sweep the temple for signs of life, and they met in the dusty temple's center once they were done.

"It appears abandoned," Kuai Liang observed, dark eyes lingering in a dark corner for one last check before he finally looked at Hanzo.

"I agree," Hanzo said, crossing his arms. "I hope the Thunder God has promised you something worthwhile for this waste of time."

A small smile tugged on Kuai Liang's lips; Hanzo pretended he did not find the sight incredibly gratifying.

"The terms of a contract are confidential, Hanzo."

"So, nothing," Hanzo surmised with a nod. "Unsurprising."

Kuai Liang's smile grew, amused. "Your time was wasted as well," he pointed out. "Will you demand compensation from Raiden?"

"Do not tempt me," Hanzo warned. He could do so without shame or remorse. After what the Thunder God had put them both through, it was the least he deserved.

Kuai Liang opened his mouth, eyes dancing with mirth—

But then his eyes shifted, just slightly, and he tensed, all over.

Hanzo barely had time to react before Kuai Liang was shoving him with a rough shout of, "Get down!"

His balance was upset but Hanzo recovered, quickly rolled to his feet in a crouch, one arm braced on the floor, the other already unsheathing his dagger.

"Jussst asss my hunger growsss, what ssshould I find but fresssh blood in the unlikeliessst of placesss?"

Skarlet ascended the last steps of the temple, an expression of satisfaction and interest on her features. She held a single hand aloft where an orb of thick, viscous blood twirled idly.

She came to a stop some distance away and widened her stance. Her fingers curled into claws and she stretched the blood like a scarf between her palms. Her eyes flashed between the two of them.

"My lucky day," she rasped slowly.

Hanzo frowned heavily, though it was almost a relief to finally face the inevitable complication he had been expecting this entire time. He darted a quick glance at Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang was much in the same position and appeared unscathed as he leveled Skarlet with a heavy frown. A smear of blood shards streaked across the space they once stood.

"What are you doing here, Skarlet?" Pure, icy contempt dripped from his tone.

"I am the one who ssshould be asssking the questions, Sub-Zero." Skarlet arched a single thin eyebrow. "Asss the Outworlder, I am not the one who doesss not belong here..."

Hanzo rose and Skarlet's gaze cut to him, wary and deadly. He unsheathed his second dagger and gave them a spin.

"You are outmatched, Skarlet." He pointed at her with a blade. "You would be wise to leave."

Her mouth was hidden behind a crimson mask, but her smile was only too obvious in her tone.

"I am trembling with fear," Skarlet said mockingly, and barely before she'd finished drawing breath, she moved her hands in a quick sweeping motion that sent a wide arch of blood, suddenly crystallized, straight for them.

Kuai Liang had his ice to defend himself with, so Hanzo did not waste a moment summoning a ring of fire, nose wrinkling as the blood met his flames and burst on impact. A power based on draining the life from another—it was barbaric.

Hanzo's words had not been an idle boast—together, he and Kuai Liang were formidable, and years of fighting at one another's side had only fostered a deadly alliance, one of devastating power and precise, efficient strategy.

Barely minutes into the fight, Skarlet was showing signs of unease. She was smart to keep her back to a wall at all times, to better prevent them from flanking her, but the ceaseless assault of ice and fire was clearly wearing on her.

When Kuai Liang froze her leg, just long enough so that she caught a fireball to the chest, she staggered, fell to one knee as her harsh breaths echoed through the ancient temple.

Tales of her cunning and deadliness had not escaped them, however, and neither man allowed their guard down, approaching slowly, fists raised.

"Thisss," Skarlet panted, glaring at the two of them, "Isss hardly fair, isss it?"

"You chose this fight, Skarlet," Kuai Liang said pitilessly.

The way her eyes narrowed at Kuai Liang—that earlier feeling of unease rose within Hanzo once more.

"I did," she agreed. "And it isss time I evened the oddsss..."

Skarlet thrust the hand—that before had been clutching her side—at Kuai Liang, and a small disk of blood, no doubt razor-sharp, shot towards him at an incredible speed.

Too fast to deflect it properly, Kuai Liang raised his arm, and Hanzo only caught a glimpse of how it burst moments before impact, hovered in the air in dozens of pinpricks of needle-thin blades, before crashing again. As Kuai Liang dropped to a knee and ducked, shielding his face from the worst of it, Hanzo was already backing away as Skarlet flew at him in a sudden burst of deadly fury.

"I can already tassste your blood," Skarlet said with relish. The blade of her blood dagger locked with Hanzo's and their faces hovered close. Her eyes shined with wicked triumph. "I will enjoy gorging myssself in the daysss to come."

Hanzo only glared back, disgusted. Between them, a sudden light grew and Skarlet glanced down with wide eyes to see her dagger glowing-white hot to match where it met Hanzo's as his arms caught fire.

An instant later, the blade, warped, shifted, and burst. Skarlet cried out, backing away as the blood singed her and the hands she shook out were bright red from the blistering heat.

"You will only taste defeat," Hanzo swore, summoning his kunai.

The low thump of a body hitting the ground drew his attention away, however, and it was with dread that Hanzo clapped eyes on Kuai Liang—teeth gritted in a grimace of pain, hands clawed against the stone as if he might crumble the stone at their feet.

He raised glassy, straining eyes to meet his.

"H-Hanzo," Kuai Liang managed, and then he shuddered, hunched over, and a low grunt of pain escaped him.

The sight and sound of him chilled Hanzo to his very core. Kuai Liang had been trained, practically since infancy, to withstand incredible amounts of pain. Anything that made him cry out like that—

Hanzo looked to Skarlet and he had no problem recognizing the sheer relish and satisfaction of her expression.

The hellfire, always kept carefully maintained, overflowed into instant, black fury.

Faster than she could ever predict, Hanzo flew across the room, seized Skarlet by her neck and did not stop until he slammed her against the opposite wall. Her strangled choke—brutally cut off by his hands, pressing deep—only incensed him further because this one cry of pain was not enough.

"What have you done to him?"

Skarlet strained against his grip, but she could not touch him, not when he burned so hot. She quickly realized she could not escape, but she only laughed, a reedy, raspy thing that made Hanzo see red.

"It—It isss a new concoction," she hissed, throat working harshly beneath his fingers. He barely loosened his grip so that she could speak, despising every moment he was not killing her. "One I-I have been..." She swallowed. Her heels scraped against the stone wall for purchase. "Very eager to try out."

Hanzo tightened his grip once more and Skarlet's eyes grew larger, panicked and desperate.

"WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE."

With each word, flames licked Hanzo's tongue, eager to escape. The temptation to release the flames on Skarlet's wretched head, to burn away her smirk until only bone remained, was nearly overwhelming.

But Kuai Liang's life hung in the balance. He could not give in to anger.

He allowed Skarlet breath, and she finally spoke, "That blood wasss poisoned," Skarlet hissed and Hanzo tensed.

"Where is the antidote," he demanded, and Skarlet laughed again.

"It isss not that sort of poissson," she said. "Thisss one was made for...ssspecial occasssionsss..."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Skarlet looked into his eyes and victory shined in her dark, mad eyes.

"It isss a powerful aphrodisssiac," she purred, and Hanzo tensed. "If he is not sssatiated, his blood will boil."

Alarmed, Hanzo glanced at Kaui Liang. It looked as if he was already feeling the effects, if the way he clutched his abdomen meant anything. He ground his forehead against the filthy stone floor and even a short distance away, Hanzo could see the red welts rising from his skin, as if he were burning from the inside out.

"It would be bessst," Skarlet continued, able to speak more in Hanzo's moment of distraction, "If you left usss here." Her eyes darkened with desire and twisted eagerness. "I am more than up to the tasssk of helping him, and I am sssure he will find me very sssastisfying."

Kuai Liang would rather die, Hanzo knew.

Slowly, every line of his body a taut line of repressed violence, Hanzo allowed Skarlet to slide back down the wall so that her feet touched the floor.

Her eyes brightened with victory—and then Hanzo yanked her close, so that they instead widened with surprise and a quick flash of fear—for he had not released her yet.

"No," he simply said, and then he shoved Skarlet back.

Her skull cracked against the stone and she went limp.

Hanzo let her drop carelessly, turned his back on her, and quickly made his way to Kuai Liang's side. She would not die, he was sure of it, and though he dearly wanted to make her pay for poisoning Kuai Liang, there was still a chance she would be needed in the future, should her words prove false and some sort of antidote could only be procured through her repulsive blood magic.

Hanzo fell to his knees at Kuai Liang's head, hands hovering or unsure.

"Kuai Liang..."

Shakily, Kuai Liang raised his head. Hanzo didn't hesitate to clasp his hand when it was raised and his eyes widened to feel the heat of him, hot enough to rival his own skin.

"Hanzo..." Through his fierce grimace, Hanzo saw the flicker of uncertainty, the worry and anxiety brought on by this sudden vulnerability.

"I have you," Hanzo assured him and he squeezed his hand tightly. "We will fix this, I promise you."

Kuai Liang stared into his eyes for a moment, panting, face beginning to bead with sweat.

He sagged with a nod, weary and pained.

Hanzo swallowed them both in hellfire, and only the scorched stone and Skarlet's crumpled form marked their ever being in Outworld.

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 3: AU Part 1

I love AUs. *points at AUs* That’s my house. I live there. LOLOLOL

A bit violent, but chances are if you’re an MK fan that warning literally won’t even be worth mentioning lol

Read it on AO3.

Part 2

Hanzo heard the sounds of battle long before he saw it.

It was abominably cold in the mountains and icy wind and the first flakes of snow cut through the air in a punishing gale. He could not imagine what would drive anyone from shelter to fight in such conditions, and it was this thought that compelled him closer rather than away, as he normally would. Avoiding detection had become rote for him, but a fight in such a storm spoke of desperation, and Hanzo could not ignore that.

Through thick clusters of black, snow-capped trees and frozen bracken, Hanzo quickly traversed the forest, brows furrowing as the sounds of combat grew louder. There were shouts, angry and excited, but they were barely heard over the incensed, furious din of unholy roars that threatened to drown them out completely. As Hanzo drew closer, he noticed that the air grew impossibly colder, enough that his throat stung as shards of ice tried to crowd his mouth as he breathed. He pulled the fabric of his scarf higher, over his nose, and it only slightly helped.

He tracked the incredible noise, deep, deeper, until finally he saw light, fire from torches, and saw the black silhouettes of many men in a clearing.

But, he realized, it was not a natural clearing. As he drew closer, the beast he heard revealed itself not to be a bear or large boar, but something much bigger and far, far deadlier.

It bore a coat of resplendent white scales that shined in the moonlight like crystal and each angry slash of its long, trailing tail and claws felled men and trees alike. It opened its wide snout, glistening with fresh-spilled blood, and spat great columns of ice at its attackers. The men, while far weaker, had the advantage of numbers. While the beast had incredible power, it could only focus on so many at once, and each time it had to give its back or flanks to deal with a threat, it received a score of spears in its side that bled profusely as the blades dug deep. Its incensed, agonized cries shook the forest and rattled Hanzo's very bones.

Shock kept Hanzo frozen where he stood underneath the shadowed cover of the forest, just outside the edge of the clearing, shadowed in darkness.

A dragon. He'd heard tales, of course, but that was all they had been: legends, myths, a story told to caution children from straying too far from home. He hadn't truly believed in them until now.

It was none of his business. These men were mercenaries, he could tell by their garb, their demeanor, and revealing himself risked his capture. There was nothing Hanzo wanted more than his freedom and stepping forward now put that at risk.

The dragon cried out once more, a fierce growl of anger and pain and Hanzo's heart lurched in his chest.

The sheer number of men spoke to this being a hunt, and Hanzo empathized, more than he wanted to. Such a magnificent creature, hunted like mere game. So that these men could harvest pieces of its corpse for trophies and sell its head to hang in some wealthy, stupid lord's hall.

Hanzo clenched his hand into the bark of the tree he had pressed himself behind.

The beast spat another stream of ice, but another spear in its side cut off the attack. There was another teeth-rattling, heart-rending cry, and it took a few unsteady steps back—quite near Hanzo's hiding place.

The long neck wavered as a final, warbling cry issued, and then it stumbled, dropped, and the large head fell to the ground with a deafening crash.

It panted there, still, as ice flakes billowed from its mouth in thin, reedy huffs. Dark blood, nearly black, steamed in the snow, and the men raised gleaming, bloody weapons in the moonlight, shouting in exultant victory.

Hanzo could not tear his gaze away when the dragon opened its large, hazy white eyes, like iridescent pearls, and looked straight at him.

Hanzo sucked in a sharp breath. A great scar ran straight down across one side of its face, over one huge, milky white eye, and as he stared into them, those eyes...they were not the eyes of a mindless beast. They were the eyes of another living thing, that could feel pain, that knew death was coming and knew it would not be merciful. The intelligence Hanzo witnessed in its gaze made the decision for him.

Perhaps he was a fool. But if he survived, he would be a fool that would sleep well tonight.

The shouts of victory turned to ones of shock and fear when a ring of fire encircled the clearing.

Hanzo stepped out, hands ablaze, and unsheathed his daggers.

"You will not leave this place."

His appearance only whipped their bloodlust into a fever pitch. The thought of bagging two rare prizes in one night was an opportunity gleefully seized, but in their excitement, they were uncoordinated, and Hanzo's blades ended the lives of four men before they fully realized he was upon them.

The dragon had culled their numbers significantly, and that was perhaps the only reason he survived. He was not unscathed—it was impossible to fight nearly a dozen men without incurring a few injuries—but it was nothing time and rest would not heal. Seconds, or hours, might have passed before Hanzo slid the last body from his sword, and when his ears only rang with echoing silence, his trembling legs collapsed and he fell to the snow-covered ground, weary, and panted in exhaustion.

He had not fully caught his breath when another plaintive, rumbling cry reached him.

Blinking, Hanzo wearily rolled over, braced an elbow in the cold ground so that he could see.

The dragon had not moved but for its head, which had weakly risen to better see Hanzo. Thankfully, it did not seem aggressive, and there was something almost curious about its gaze as they stared at one another.

A part of Hanzo still couldn't believe he was a mere few feet away from such a creature, but he forced himself past the awe and tiredly pushed himself to his feet.

When he drew near, taking wary, cautious steps should the beast lash out, what he saw made him grimace.

Broken off spears and arrows had made their homes in the dragon's flesh. The dragon was so large he did not fear that removing them would cause it to bleed out, but the pain would be incredible.

Hanzo darted another glance at the dragon, found those large, pearly eyes fixed unwaveringly on him.

"I need to remove these," he explained quietly, voice rough. He did not have much cause to speak these days and it was a struggle to raise his voice enough to be heard.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements as plainly as possible, Hanzo seized a spear near the flesh it pierced.

Hanzo met the dragon's eyes one last time. "Please do not kill me." And he quickly pulled the spear free.

The dragon roared, and it was as jarring as before—worse, because Hanzo was so near. But it did not lash out, and aside from the cry, it held itself still and tense, as if it had been prepared for Hanzo's actions.

Even so, Hanzo did not move until the beast had quieted, and even then, he waited just a bit longer, heart racing. When he looked back to the wound, he was surprised to see that it was already healing, slow and creeping, but its flesh was indeed stitching itself together before his eyes.

"Incredible," he murmured. It made a strange sort of sense, that the dragon was magic, but it was still an amazing thing to behold.

He tried to find the perfect marriage between speed and carefulness as he went through the arduous task of freeing the dragon from the numerous arrows and spears that were stuck in its flesh, but it still took a great deal of time. Once, he had to remove a spear whose end was forked, and when finally he eased it from the flesh, the dragon mustered the strength to lift its great head.

It leveled Hanzo with such a look of approach, he felt his lips twitch despite himself.

"Apologies," he murmured, and the dragon huffed.

When he finally finished, a great deal of time had passed and Hanzo was not sure which of them was more exhausted by the end. His work was not quite done, however, as he eyed a wound that was deeper than the rest—a lucky sword swipe, he thought, and it bled faster and greater than all the other wounds.

His ears were still ringing from the dragon's pained roars, and he did not look forward to what he had to do next.

"You are not healing as quickly, here." He touched near the large gash with a frown. "I must cauterize your wound, or you will bleed out."

Those large, pale eyes just stared. There was no way to tell if it understood him and Hanzo hoped that it could; otherwise, what he was about to do would not go over well.

He put a soothing hand on the beast's flank and his other glowed, white-hot as he focused on bringing his flames to a fine point of concentrated heat.

"Brace yourself," he murmured, and then he pressed his palm, fingers curled, against the largest gash on the dragon's side.

To his immense relief, while the beast roared loud enough that his heart nearly gave out, it did not lash out and crush Hanzo with a swipe of a claw or freeze him right there where he knelt.

Hanzo apologized again in a quiet mutter, wincing. In order to make sure the wound was fully covered and that he did the job as thoroughly as possible so he would not have to perform a second pass, he was forced to go slowly. The scent of cooked flesh and singed scales grew strong enough to make his eyes water and his nose burn.

But aside from that initial roar, the dragon was silent. The great, muscular body was drawn tight and a sheen soon covered its body as it began to sweat. It trembled, very faintly, whether from the pain, the effort of holding itself back, or from fear, Hanzo was not sure, and guilt swamped him for inflicting more pain on a creature that had already borne more than its fair share. When he finally finished, it was a toss-up between which of them who was more relieved.

Hanzo fell back and sat in the snow, hands bracing him up behind his back and head hanging as he panted from the exertion of drawing forth such a precise flame of incredible heat. The dragon's head flopped down similarly and its sigh made the night air even cooler. If Hanzo hadn't been a pyromancer, he could not imagine how he would endure this.

Eventually, the sound of movement pried Hanzo's eyes open and he wearily raised his head, squinting.

The dragon's overlarge head loomed close and its large, milky eyes seemed to stare right through him.

Hanzo froze and he dared not even breathe. Even as he tended to its wounds, he had never quite beaten back his awe and humbled reverence of such a large, fearsome creature, one that could kill him with laughable ease, and in this moment, despite nearly a lifetime of fighting mercenaries and bounty-hunters alike, he had never been more aware of his own mortality.  

And just when Hanzo thought it might open that wide jaw and take a bite of him after all, instead, it closed its eyes and nudged his chest.

But a nudge from a beast of that size was substantial enough that it sent him flat on his back with a surprised grunt.

The sensation of icy snow chilling his skin through his cloak was unpleasant, but he could not dwell on it for longer than a single instant before that great head was back, pressing into Hanzo's chest. It rubbed its face there for several long moments and, after a beat of hesitance, where his arms hovered—torn between pushing the dragon away and fearing for his limbs should he try it—Hanzo realized the beast was—showing affection, in a way.

Tentatively, Hanzo laid his hands on either side of the dragon's head. When it didn't immediately rear back and maul him, Hanzo slowly rubbed the smooth scales, marveling at the texture, like river rocks, utterly without edge after centuries of withstanding the current, yet his hands were completely dry.

A sound left the beast, a low rumble of contentment, and Hanzo only recognized it as such because he'd already heard what it sounded like angry and this did not match those earlier, defiant roars.

Crushed and seemingly trapped in the snow as he pet a dragon, Hanzo sighed.

"...You are welcome," he said softly.