#yet another installation of emmet & kyurem friendship now with: for the love of god get away from the living biohazard

[randomwriteronline]

He had no idea from where the tales of his unbound courage had come.

He supposed he'd always been a big boy with a furrowed brow, not shy enough to be bullied, trained to walk without fear among drooling teeth and razor sharp claws since his first steps: it was only natural that he'd be perceived as brave.

Even after all these years, however, he could not manage to see in himself the fearlessness others had assigned to him.

He certainly could not see it now, as the ice cold breath seeped into his bones.

Hollow eyes of long dulled gold stared vacantly, almost blind, at the spot where he stood. A low roar of warning echoed through the cave, volume rising, rising, rising until the stone walls were shaking and the slowly freezing waters were traversed by erratically rippling waves.

Between him and it stood his nephew.

"It's alright," he said. His head low, his body hunched, he stood before the beast's maw. "It's alright. Go away."

"Emmet," he called - quietly, in a low gentle rumble.

"It's alright," his nephew repeated.

Frost left the dragon's mouth in a cloud of shimmering greyish white, a recreation of the devastating attack it had unleashed on the region on a much smaller scale: it caught against the legs right in front of its massive head, wrecking the wiry body with horrid shivers as the man continued to stand his ground.

Drayden watched the other's mouth twitch as he clicked his tongue with a calming cadence.

"Emmet," he tried again.

"It's alright." Click. "I've got this." Click. "Go away." Click.

"Come here."

"I've got this." Click.

The roar lowered but did not stop. The fabric of his pants was crystalizing. Drayden watched ungloved hands lay, unprotected, against the ice cage muzzling the enormous maw tight, and bit back the need to scream and run up to him to yank him away.

"I've got this." Click. Emmet was shivering harder. Click. "It's alright. (Click.) I've got this. (Click.) Go away." Click.

"Emmet. Come here."

"You're scaring it." Click. A gentle caress on the icy skin, slow, soothing, fingers shaking, turning red, rapidly becoming white. Click. "It's alright. (Click.) I've got this. (Click.) Go away. (Click.) I've got this."

Click.

Despite the distance, he could still make out his lips losing color.

"Knuckerling."

The pet name caused a quiet spasm in the younger man. His trembling turned less pronounced.

The dragon growled dangerously.

Drayden's arms extended forward, gently, slowly, comfortingly: "Knuckerling," he called - gentle, so gentle, heartbreakingly so, and yet so stern that if he'd asked a mountain to move it would have done so without any attempt at arguing. "Come here."

Silence.

The hand on grey scales had stilled.

At an agonizing pace, clicking softly all the way, Emmet walked, and walked, and walked, the panes of frost slowly breaking with each movement causing his clothes to crackle at every step, until his uncle's rough gloves were wrapped around his freezing hands.

"Go away," he repeated softly. Click. His face was almost transparent, his mouth turning blueish. Click. "I've got this. (Click.) I've got this."

The grip on his palms tightened slightly: "Let's go."

"No. (Click.) No. (Click.) I've got this. (Click.) You're scaring it. (Click) Just go. (Click.) It's alright. (Click.) I've got this. (Click) I've got this."

"Knuckerling."

"Please."

He could feel the cold seeping out of the pale skin even through the thick leather of his gloves.

Drayden stared into his nephew's pleading eyes.

The dragon growled again, volume rising once more.

"Let's go."

Emmet did not fight back, and allowed his uncle to take him away.

Kyurem wailed in anguish.

It did not pursue.