Jung Jinyoung had always been afraid of dragons. 

To an eight-year-old who was used to playing knights and scoundrels with his playmates, he should've laughed at the gaping jaws of danger when they presented themselves. He should've steadied himself, screamed out an, "En garde!" in his tiny, prepubescent voice, and play-fought with a dozing dragon by jabbing it with his wooden sword to the point of irritating it (and then running away, because angry dragons make angry dragonkeepers, and that was what Jinyoung was really concerned about).

Instead, he burst into tears the very first time he was taken to the dragonkeep by his father and a shiny blue snout had gently nudged at his back without warning. There was no sudden act of bravado or a look of curious wonder permanently plastered onto his face; rather, snot running down his face and wet pants are probably what he remembers best to this day.

Needless to say, his father understood the furious shakes of his son's head when Jinyoung refused to go along to the keep, but then again, the loud wails from his first visit were probably embarrassing enough for the noble lord not to want a repeat of.

Dragons were huge, dwarfing his skinny frame as a child by tenfold, and if he had been given the opportunity to never encounter a dragon once more, Jinyoung would've gladly accept it.

So when for his tenth birthday his father had surprised him with an order to come to the keep, Jinyoung adamantly refused and was consequently dragged there by the family's guards.

"The Jung family has always celebrated their tenth moon with a dragon to accompany them, to share their lives with," Noble Jung rumbled in a baritone voice, pushing his sniveling son in front of the filled nests in the keep (the mothers of the eggs have been supposedly kept away for the time being, probably not to startle the ten-year-old any moreso than he had already been). "One will choose you, and so you will cherish it; this is your right to."

Children between the ages of five and eleven don't know what to do in the face of fear, so Jinyoung just sat down on the straw-scattered dirt floor and wailed even harder.

Jung Jinyoung had been, and will probably forever be, afraid of dragons.

 

A current of wind runs through the meadow, and Jinyoung shivers from the sudden chill before sneezing from the pollen tickling his nose. A scaly tail slides across his hip bone before retracting, and a grumble resounds from underneath his head. The young man sighs. "Yeah, there's a draft. You wanna go in, girl?" he asks, reaching up to slide a hand over smooth, hard skin.

He looks to the side to meet intelligent, crimson eyes, and the noble nods in understanding before getting up from his stationary position, dusting himself off of any critters that may have been skittering over his thin body while he was asleep.

"Did you have a nice rest, Hui Sun?" he affectionately murmurs to the large yet slender creature and receives a soft huff of hot air over his face in return. Jinyoung smiles warmly at that and beckons for the beast to rise from the ground, which it does with a certain grace that only magical organisms could manage.

The dragon lowers her neck to look at him, and he can hear her in his mind asking if he'd like to take flight. His smile turns into a grimace, and he hesitatingly shakes his head with an apologetic look. His answer is well-received, though with a note of disappointment.

They walk side by side through the grass, Jinyoung's soft footsteps masked by his companion's muffled thuds every time she steps, and he feels a pang of guilt at not having accepted her offer to fly. Dragons live to spread their wings, but those raised by the kingdom refuse to go anywhere without their riders, so Hui Sun stays by the young man, complacently not taking flight without him.

Jinyoung is a down-to-earth person. He likes the solid ground beneath his feet, and though he may enjoy a mild breeze from time to time, the adrenaline and vast gusts of wind from flying isn't for him.

At first, he didn't even want a dragon as some "pet." In fact, he remembers that, when Hui Sun hatched, he had still been terrified of the beasts, and he had screamed at the sight of the newborn. The baby had roared back playfully, thinking of it as some kind of game. Ten-year old Jinyoung was frightened by the baby that stumbled everywhere he went. It was almost to the point of hysteria by the time the youngling was old enough to communicate with him (Back then, it was only indescribable noises and sounds in his head, involving ? and !).

The fear was something that was extremely difficult to overcome, but with the help of his friend and constant exposure to Hui Sun, Jinyoung gradually managed to suppress the panic associated with the relatively harmless creatures.

It takes a solid twenty minutes before dragon and rider walk through guarded gates, and Jinyoung has to constantly send Hui Sun mental images of their home so that she doesn't coincidentally turn away to investigate every strange odor she smells in the market. Vendors cry out, "fresh," "sale," and "cheap" to entice passersby to buy their products, and street children weave between the adults milling about, some 'bumping' into the ignorant buyers and stealing loose change, maybe bagging a leather pouch of coins from their victims if they are quick and able enough.

A young boy makes the mistake of trying to steal the gold hanging off Jinyoung's belt, and Hui Sun growls warningly. He quickly retracts his hand as if burnt and skitters off in fear while Jinyoung overlooks the matter and pretends that the kingdom isn't in such a disastrous state that children have resorted to crouch down to the level of common thieves.

As Hui Sun straightens her neck regally to show airs in front of the lower caste, Jinyoung uneasily picks up their pace. Seeings dragons isn't an uncommon thing for the lower class, but with many pairs of unseen eyes on his every stride there's a reason for him to feel antsy. He gnaws on his lower lip and stiffly marches through the crudely paved roads, all the way until the two of them are safely behind silver gates with his family's crest gleaming in the light.

He allows the servants, young and aged alike, to fuss over him, a flurry of, "Young Master, let me take that coat off of you!" and, "Please, come in away from the sun's damaging rays!" before a young boy walks up to call out to him breathlessly. "Young Master, the lord wishes to see you in his chambers!"

Ah, so his father requires his presence. Jinyoung's lower lip curls in distaste, and Hui Sun huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. She notices his reluctance and chimes in his head that the sooner he visits the lord, the sooner they can retire.

"Take me to my father," the noble sighs, giving Hui Sun a last on the snout before he allows himself to be led off and Hui Sun to return to her keep.

His father is the same gruff and temperamental man that he was even ten years ago, time having done no damage to the older except for a greying patch on his trimmed beard. He looks up from his stack of papers, reading spectacles perched atop his nasal bridge, as Jinyoung and the servant boy enter through the open doors. The servant deeply bows before leaving the two to their business, and Jinyoung inclines his head out of respect.

"Father," he greets. "I understand you wanted to see me."

Lord Jung clears his throat, sniffs as he takes off his wiry spectacles, and rises to walk across the large room to his son standing at the entrance a few yards away. "I did," he booms. "I hear that you and Hui Sun went to the meadows outside our borders. How did your day fare?"

Jinyoung straightens his posture. "It was fine," he shortly answers.

"Good, good," Lord Jung states, folding his arms into his long sleeves of silk and wealth. "And did you take Hui Sun flying?"

From the sudden stiffness in the younger's posture, the noble ruler knows he didn't and wearily sighs. "Jinyoung, you know you have to fly. It's in our blood to."

"No," Jinyoung easily refutes. "Dragons have to fly; it's their way of life. I, as a human, do not have to."

"You know our noble blood sets us apart from the rest," Lord Jung continues as if his son hadn’t interrupted. "It is why they choose to bond with us, why they only bond with us." He shuffles closer to his son. "Once you're old enough to succeed me, you need to step up with Hui Sun by your side, and that includes going through with the ceremonies. This- this fear that you have of flying, it'll pass."

Jinyoung exhales through his nose. "I can't do it, father. I can't fly. I've tried to...I have," he beseeches. "But I'm not meant to fly."

His father frowns. "Blood of a noble, heart of a commoner," he mutters darkly. "You know your mother has been looking forward to your twentieth year for a long, long while. She's in the west tower, still doing preparations for you."

"Father, you've gone through the ritual, and so has your father before you, and his father before him," the younger begins fiercely. "But me - I, I'm not meant to be off the ground. I can't."

He wishes that he had paid more attention to his language tutor and that he was more eloquent with his syntax and word choice as the disappointment becomes evident in Lord Jung's eyes, and he knows he's been excused when the aged man turns away from him and silently walks back to his work table.

"It's as if he's on one side of this chasm and I the other, and the bridge has been cut on his end," Jinyoung miserably tries explaining to the chef's son, Junghwan, later that day when he's cooped up in the kitchen as a refuge of sorts, the servants paying no heed to the two.

"Perhaps his age makes it difficult to understand the troubles of the younger generation," Junghwan, affable and robust, offers, leaning against the wooden counter with flour-covered hands and white smudges of frosting smeared against his temple.

Jinyoung only looks up at him with a wretched expression from his slumped position against the possibly unsanitary counter, and Junghwan takes pity. "Do you want a custard?" he offers, reaching out to pat the older on the back. He leaves a dusty, white handprint against the leather outfit that the young rider is donning.

"If you have any left over," Jinyoung halfheartedly states as Junghwan tries to nonchalantly wipe the print on his vest away. "Sorry for bothering you. I would've left you to your own duties, but Shinwoo's sitting in some meeting right now."

"It's no problem whatsoever," Junghwan responds once there's no trace of flour left. "Prince Shinwoo probably even suggested the meeting himself in order to comprehend his kingdom better."

Junghwan bustles around the kitchen beside the helpers and his father while Jinyoung gnaws his lower lip with clenched teeth. He and the prince of the kingdom settle twice a week in the latter's comfortably large garden to discuss issues that have been bothering them (usually, it's Jinyoung lamenting while Shinwoo listens in silence and offers pivoting life advice towards the end of their sessions, which the former doesn't invest any energy in) and have been doing so since childhood.

Jinyoung wonders what Shinwoo, who will sponsor of-age rituals when he becomes ruler, would say to him about his flying-related troubles.

A small plate with something centered in the middle slides in front of him, the sugary scent of the heated pastry wafting into his nose. He doesn't bother with eating utensils and promptly picks up the treat using his thumb and forefinger, taking a huge bite out of the custard.

"I know that you liked the sprinkles of cocoa that I used when I experimented last time with foods, so I hope it doesn't bother you that I embedded it in the crust," Junghwan voices as he returns to his original position leaning against the counter. "Don't worry about any leftovers as I made a new batch last night. It should last the week so long as it's not all eaten by Cha S- "

Over the loud, bustling activity in the kitchen, there's a loud bang as the door slams against the wall, a small muttered apology, and then a loud, "Lee Junghwan!"

Junghwan's eyes darken. "The devil calls."

Jinyoung watches in interest as a young man saunters into view wearing long-sleeved cotton and faded pants under thick boots. "Was wonderin' where you were," the young man greets in a deep tone with an equally deep-set smirk.

"Who's he?" Jinyoung inquires. The newcomer certainly did look familiar.

Junghwan heavily sighs as if he has to deal with an insufferable toddler. "This is Cha Sunwoo, the dragonkeeper's nephew."

"Ah, I remember you!" Jinyoung brightens. "You dyed your hair shades of pink and blue using Junghwan's picked berries five summers ago!"

"And he’s been impossible to get rid of since. And he wasted good berries!" Junghwan scowls.

Sunwoo smiles cheerfully, looking pleased with himself. "Yes, yes, that was me. and you're the lord's son—though everyone living within these walls knows that, really."

"Could've fooled me, Sunwoo, what with your daft self and inability to recall even simple directions."

"Aw, Junghwan, are you still aggravated over dunking yourself into the molasses barrel yesterday after tripping over your own foot?"

"For the last time, you intolerable rodent look-a-like, you're the one who tripped me- "

Though he's unsure if the two bickering have heard his feeble excuse to leave (attending his arithmetic lessons, he was, and if he didn't hurry to the east tower, he'd be late-), Jinyoung is still going to take his chance, and after finishing the last few crumbs of his custard, he edges towards the door, narrowly avoiding swinging limbs. From how the chef and his helpers continue with their duties, he deduces that this is either a regular occurrence and everyone else has become used to it or that perhaps that those working with food have become deaf to the high-pitched screams Sunwoo is now emitting after years of hearing the sizzles and snaps of products frying in butter and oil.

He almost reaches the door when it opens automatically, and Jinyoung haphazardly bends backwards to avoid getting hit square in the face. A servant girl, red-faced from possibly running to deliver her message, pants out her next words. Goodness, perhaps his father should invest in fitter families to do his evil biddings.

"... And you're needed right away!" the girl finishes, clutching onto the door.

Jinyoung blinks and shakes his head from his slightly harsh thoughts. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?"

"Your dragon... someone tried to touch her in her keep!"

By now, Junghwan and Sunwoo have stopped their argument to migrate over and see what the issue is. "You mean the dragonkeeper?" Sunwoo asks, and Junghwan elbows him.

"Hey, Cha, do you think she'd be running all this way from the keep just to tell him that your uncle's taking care of his dragon?"

"Shut up, Junghwan."

Jinyoung shushes the two. "I don't understand; could you elaborate?"

"Someone snuck into the keep!" The noble's eyes widen at the words. "And they caught the guy who was doing so! The stableboy was trying to touch your dragon!"

By the time the girl finishes her message, she has only an audience of two; the third member is long gone, disappearing down the hallways to reach the keep.

 

Jinyoung is beyond furious.

Not only is it against the laws for a commoner to even be within a few feet of a dragon without its rider present, for some nobody of non-noble blood to dare try to touch Hui Sun? His jaw clenches out of rage, and if he was anything like his father, the young boy kneeling in front of him would have lost a finger or maybe an entire limb.

However, he can feel Hui Sun's consciousness in the back of his mind, softly calling out soothing requests to calm down. She has always been the less temperamental out of the two of them despite Jinyoung not being much of a fighter. The noble takes a deep breath, exhales, and examines the captive commoner a bit closer.

The stranger is thin, wiry, much like himself, and though his head of messy black hair is bowed, for the boy to risk his life to come near the dragons makes Jinyoung wonder if the boy is either defiant or desperate and incredibly stupid.

He crouches to the stableboy's eye level, uncaring if his robes drag against the dirty straw, and forces an even tone in his voice through the simmering rage he feels. "The keep is considerably far from the stables. Why did you come here?"

The boy remains mute, head bowed.

The dragonkeeper delivers a harsh kick to the back of the boy, and he releases a low grunt of pain. "Speak when you're being addressed to, boy!" the keeper roars.

"I..." the young man begins, lifting his head to look Jinyoung in the eye, and he his chapped lips hesitantly. "I want to become a dragon rider."

The cave is stunned into a stupor that lasts a few seconds before the keeper guffaws, his bellows echoing against the rock walls. The guards follow through with throaty laughs, and even Jinyoung amusedly chuckles at the statement. What the stranger expressed is a pipe dream that will never come true, and even the stableboy seems to be aware of the fact, his shoulders slumping with every second and bout of raucous hysteria that passes.

"Boy," the keeper sighs out after his bout of laughter is finished, "you were born in the wrong millenium to be wishin' for such a thing. Perhaps in your next life, if the gods be merciful with 'ya for daring to lay a hand on a noble's dragon."

The guards keep their eyes trained on the stableboy, though Jinyoung knows that they're waiting for his next order, and he sighs. His father would expect him to punish him accordingly, and if he didn't there would be consequences in not commanding the beheading of an obstinate individual.

As he muses over his next course of action, the stableboy looks up in bold disobedience and opens his mouth. "I want to become a dragon rider!" he shouts, looking directly at Jinyoung. "I want to fly and feel the clouds through my fingertips and look at the world from above, and I don't care that I'm not a noble-!"

He clamps his mouth shut as soon as the keeper mimes a kicking action, wincing at the ghost of pain from just a few minutes past, but the boy's hearty words cause Jinyoung to frown in thoughtful deliberation.

To take over his father's position, he would need to fly in the ceremony and complete the several traditional rituals while in air. Technically, the rituals were all products of superstition and generally unneeded aside from being a part of the people's culture. He feels queasy about flying, but if the boy here is eager enough to risk the wrath of both mortals and higher beings to fly dragons…

"Bring him to my room," Jinyoung catches himself saying, having already straightened from his crouch.

The keeper raises an eyebrow. "Not to the dungeons, young master?"

"No," the noble smoothly responds, watching the boy with piqued interest. "I have something... else in mind."

A look of sudden understanding flashes across the keeper's face, who definitely believes that Jinyoung has instruments of torture up his sleeve, and he grimly nods before repeating the order to the guards. The stableboy's facial expression contorts to one of fear as they drag him away, the sounds of struggling echoing off the walls. Jinyoung has to refrain from a childish-sounding snort when the dragonkeeper praises, "Lord Jung will be pleased with your next course of actions."

He walks with the guards and the struggling prisoner all the way through the winding hallways and past sharp corners until they reach his room, large oak double doors with brass knobs shutting out prying eyes, and an accompanying servant turns a doorknob to push one of the huge doors open for the odd group. The guards crudely shove the captive into the room after the keeper secures his wrists together with thick ties, and Jinyoung and the older man exchange nods before the former slips in past the soundproof doors and locks it shut.

When he turns to face the stableboy, the noble doesn't expect him to begin speaking.

"I know you're going to punish me severely for even thinking about touching your dragon," he blurts out, and Jinyoung assumes it is due to a combination of fear and anxiety. "But I don't regret what I said… about me wanting to fly, that is."

Jinyoung adjusts his robes to accentuate his regal posture. It doesn't hurt to instill fear into who he'd be using as somewhat of a scapegoat. "You're not going to beg for your life?" he questions, beginning slow steps around the boy.

The boy glares at him as he circles around, though not without a hint of agitation. "You seem like you've made up your mind already of whether I'm going to live or not. Pleading for mercy won't change your decision."

What the young man lacks in proper education and family roots he certainly makes up for with a sharp tongue. The noble forces a smile off of his face as he peers closer at the young man standing awkwardly in the center of his grand room. They both certainly have similar builds and heights; with a little bit of attention and care, this boy could be his double. The skies would be too high up for anyone but the gods to monitor anyway.

"What are you doing?" the young man dares to question, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as Jinyoung painstakingly unwraps the coarse cloth around the other's wrists.

Jinyoung ignores his question as he pulls the last knot free, and the other rubs his reddened wrists. "What's your name?" he asks instead.

"... Gong Chanshik," the taller replies after a moment of hesitation. "What are you doing? Aren't you mad?"

"Well," the noble clicks his tongue, tossing the rags to the side. "Don't misunderstand; I was incredibly irate at first when I found out you broke in and tried touching Hui Sun. She can hold her own, mind you. If you actually did touch her, your hand would have been severed off by now, and I'd have much more of a mess to deal with," he sighs, drawing mirth from how Chanshik flinches at the thought of an appendage gone.

"But you didn't, so you should be praying to the gods gratuitously at this point," Jinyoung continues. "You're not dead yet, but that's only because I’ve found a use for you."

Chanshik frowns. "Am I demoted from a position of stableboy? There's nothing really worse than that... sir," he tacks on the title swiftly, seeing Jinyoung's narrowed look.

"Jinyoung. My name is Jinyoung, and you will address me by that." He walks up to the boy, looks straight into his eyes with all the seriousness he can muster in his body. "And I'm going to teach you how to be a dragon rider."

 

 

 

 

a/n: HAHAhahahhHAHHAhahhahhaHAHHH this was supposed to be a oneshot but i got carried away so now u guys have to wait for a part 2
happy birthday jinyoung u master