Rick walked through the church’s courtyard in a solemn mood, eyes downcast with skies of grey above. People whom earlier in the day had trained, were now far and few between, out and about on presumably different tasks. Tasks Rick did not know nor care for in the moment. His thoughts instead drifting dangerously, dangerously like a man sleeping on a boat in the ocean, dragged away to unreachable lands.

Thoughts of what he would do, what he could do, what was to happen to him and his friend, his little beast. Nay, his little legend. His little dragon friend.

Mind wobbled like the dust storm over a windmill, unsure on where to proceed. On the one hand, he had promised to help Brynjar, help him in hunting a dragon. His dragon.

Something he would never do.

He would, therefore, have to save the dragon. But saving the dragon meant going against Brynjar, and going against Brynjar meant a red-haired man had free rein to arrest Rick.

A conundrum. A conundrum that had only one solution that still felt horrible to consider.

The only solution was saving the dragon and betraying someone who held the key to Rick’s future, to a life where he would no longer stew in terror, fear or darkness. For Brynjar had it all. Rick would never be hungry again. Rick would never need to be cold again. He would never have to worry. With Brynjar, Rick would be safe.

A simple life promised. A simple life Rick would have to cast away.

It did not make it easy, nor make him happy. No, his thoughts needed a direction, a purpose so that he would not brood on what he could not change. A purpose for just how he would save the dragon.

But even as he walked past guards saluting him, past a gate far too big for what it should protect, and past a wall that looked more like a castle than a church. He could not imagine how he would sneak the dragon out of this vast, vast city.

Imagination pulled away from him as he neared his “house”, soon to not be his. At the front of the house stood two guards instead of the one. Worry blossomed like wildflowers in summer. Heart beating like the hail on a window. Sweat dripping like water down a parched man’s throat.

One guard seemed to notice Rick as he neared, standing tall as they saluted. The other guard following quickly after. Rick swallowing a thick annoying strand of saliva that seemed to not want to go down, nodding awkwardly as his steps increased in speed. Hurrying towards his “house”.

Coming nearer, one guard stopped saluting and spoke up in a womanly voice.

“Reports come in that suspicious individuals have been loitering around your establishment. To ensure your safety, we have been ordered to station three guards around your house at all hours of the day.”

A third guard peeked around the house’s corner, saluting as they came into view. Rick barely noticing, instead glancing around without meaning too. Worry blossoming yet again. Probing his mind, giving him thoughts of many, many whom might want to come near him. Nay, near his “house”.

The red-haired man. Someone who's spotted the dragon. Maybe both. Maybe something even worse.

The female guard moved to open the door for him, stopped by Rick as he practically lunged forward, pushing past and taking a hold of the door. A strained smile formed on his lips, awkward and stilted. The guard stiffened visibly, quickly cooling down as they forcefully relaxed, bowed slightly, and uttered out an apology. One Rick nodded quickly at, before focusing forward on the door.

Opening it slowly, he quickly pushed his body so that Rick’s body covered the small slit of the opened door, making the inside out of view for the two guards. Squeezing himself inside, Rick avoided looking back at the guards, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room’s dim light.

Dimly lit up by the window over the bed, opened to reveal all that was inside the room.

Bob peeked up from his hiding place within Rick’s chest, looking around without a worry in the world. Looking around and stopping, clapping and laughing.

Rick ignored Bob, instead focusing on the more pressing matters. Quickly closing the door behind, and scrambling forward towards the window, pulling the curtain down and covering the room in complete darkness.

Fumbling in the darkness, Rick made his way to the fireplace and quickly set to work lightning a fire. A fire easily lit as the runes on the fireplace were one he knew, knew from memories taught. And memories of a particular bath that needed heating.

Life being pushed in, a fire ignited. Bursting at first, growing smaller and dimmer as he released his flow of life. Dimming until it seemed to settle. Settle on a singular piece of burnt wood, barely enough to keep the fire going.

He ignored the fires pleads for food, spinning around in mild panic as he searched the now slightly illuminated room. Spotting the singular drawer, the bed, the table, and the stool. But no dragon.

Bob clapping even harder on his chest, nodding from side to side, laughing soundlessly.

Turning quickly, Rick looked down on the bed, seeing how disheveled and uncleaned it was. Disheveled to keep his dragon out of view. But the sheet that should be draped down the bed was instead slightly parted, making it easy to look past.

And that he did, hurriedly staring under the bed for something that was not a monster. Seeing nothing, even as he stared for a long moment into the darkness of the otherworld that was underneath every bed.

Panic bubbling. Standing up quickly, he moved towards the drawer, practically pulling the hinges off in his haste. Spotting several sets of clothes, shoes. But no dragon.

He fumbled within the pile of clothing, pulling it all out in the vain hope that the dragon had tangled itself up into their warm bussom. But to no avail. No dragon was to be found.

Bob’s continued clapping drew ire from Rick, for it wasn’t time for playing. Turning around again, he looked down on the table and stool, seeing that there was nowhere to hide, still fumbling towards it, desperately looking around.

A particularly loud clap broke through Rick’s panic, irritation bubbling, attention gained. Rick looked down on Bob and spotted him pointing. Following the pointing with his eyes, Rick’s head drew upwards, upwards towards the door and ever upwards. Up into a darkened corner, nothing to speak of.

Nothing but two molten red eyes, slitted and narrowed, staring down at him with what could only be described as a toothy smirk on its face.

Relief, utter and poignant, making his legs feel like too much weight on a too small surface, forcing Rick down on his knees. The dragon, satisfied with its teasing, jumped down on top of him, eliciting a soundless grunt as the two tumbled onto to floor. The dragon slowly glowing in a dim red light, followed by a soft purring, pushing its head close to Rick’s. Rick hugging the dragon close, worry like a distant memory.

Silence, only interrupted by a soft purring and the clapping of wooden hands. A moment in time, stopped for two souls to enjoy their embrace. One feeling comforted, the other relief, and one just plain old happy.

A moment in time that could not last forever, for nothing could. Thoughts drifted to being caught, of the outer world, of the dangers he was in.

Rick swiftly, but gently, lifted the dragon off of himself, looking around quickly before gesturing in front of the dragon. Gesturing that it had to hide, looking up and quickly pulling the blanket down from the bed.

The dragon tilted its head in what Rick could only think of as confusion, confusion turning to surprise, turning into mild amusement as a big blanket quickly enveloped the dragon. A blanket that covered it fully, if not for the swishing tail behind, the slightly sparkly and moist nose and its two glowing eyes.

Rick felt it good enough, grabbing the oversized blanket and plopping the mushball of a dragon onto the bed. Bob jumping out from the bussom of Rick’s chest, immediately playing with the ensnared dragon and its swishing tail. A dragon realizing, a dragon playing along.

Rick ignored the play playing out in front of him, deciding that his time to be better spent on making the fireplace bigger, and fishing out a piece of jerky for the dragon. A jerky the dragon devoured in one swift bite, begging for more.

While slowly giving the dragon what remained of his meager supplies of jerky, Rick pondered. Pondered on a predicament that had no simple answer. No proper solution, nothing that could be done without everything going wrong.

Staring down on the munching dragon, he pondered on distant pasts. Pasts that told him that a dragon was not something that should exist. Or at least, not to Rick’s knowledge. He had heard many a tales of dragons and their exploits, legendary and impossible. Tales told when young, now desperately doing his best to remember.

Memories faded and fading, hard to decipher and comprehend. What he did remember was flashes of danger, of monsters impossible to kill, of tributes needed to pay.

He glanced down at the dragon, seeing it cuddled up, salivating something fierce just underneath where its snout rested on the blanket, nibbling on a piece of jerky with closed eyes and a healthy purring.

Nay, he must cast away such thoughts of what he thought dragons to be, for his memories obviously held no truth.

Then he pondered on Brynjar, for he was most assuredly hunting the dragon, his little dragon, and Rick most therefore keep it hidden, keep it safe. A task made increasingly harder considering the three guards that would stand around his house at all times.

He slowly stood up and peaked out of the window. Spotting the back of one guard, a spear strapped to their back, and a shield close at hand.

Quickly pulling back, Rick dashed any hopes of a swift escape through the window. A plan of convincing the dragon to run the same way it had come in, winking away like a fire doused by the rain.

Then Rick looked down at his own hands, calloused and bruised, worn and tattered. And he started pondering, pondering about himself, on being hunted. Hunted by a man that seemed to hold as much, if not more, power than Brynjar. A Knight, a queen’s knight, an envoy of the queen if Rick wasn’t too stupid. A sort off, bounty hunter. A knight that had it out for him, only stopped by the words of Brynjar.

He held no doubt that if Rick showed any signs that he was not working with Brynjar anymore, that the red-haired man would come for him, and take him.

A dilemma.

He did not know what influence the red-haired man held over the city. He did not know if the guards would let Rick leave. And he did not know even how to smuggle the little dragon out.

Mind wracked in thought, in guilt, in troubles and stress. A mind that had a hard time fully thinking, drained from past’s not fully digested. Drained from knowing that he held the safety, the very life of another being, a friend, within his hands. A responsibility he’d never thought, nor ever hoped, to ever have.

The little dragon in question seemed guileless about Rick’s troubles, eating away as if everything was alright. Bob on its behind, chasing its tail with a bright, soundless laugh.

The dragon blinked, and something seemed to flicker behind its glowing eyes. A cunning, a knowing. It could not tell what troubled Rick, only that he seemed troubled. A mind thinking, concluding.

Just as Rick felt troubled about how to save his friend, his friend did the same. Even if it did not know all that was Rick’s circumstances, it could tell that something was wrong, and that something, it knew, included itself.

The two thinking something profusely, thinking on a solution to a problem both would not get an easy answer too.

The two staring down at a fire, crackling pleasantly. Like playing a melody to two melancholic souls.

Rick glanced down at the dragon, a frown forming on his otherwise neutral face. Staring down on the silent dragon, having eaten all of the jerky. Cocooned within a balloon of a blanket. Nothing but its tail and snout sticking out.

Nothing but its tail and snout sticking out.

An idea formed. Hurriedly, Rick gently tugged the dragon’s tail within the blanket. The dragon recoiling at being brought out from its own musing, quickly understanding and doing as told. Next, Rick draped what he could get a hold of over the dragon’s snout. And just like that, the dragon was hidden from all the world to see. Hidden in the mass of a blanket.

With one problem solved, Rick felt that a weight lifted, just barely, out of his mind. A problem of how to sneak the dragon out, now solved. Even if poorly solved, it would have to do.

Lifting the blanket, the dragon breathed in as if having held its breath. Breathing in and out heavily, puffing out what looked like a puff of smoke. Surely not, for that was impossible.

An urge overcame Rick, and he quickly pulled the blanket over the dragon once more. Letting it stay there for seconds upon seconds, blinking as he stared at the ball of a blanket.

It stirred slightly, and Rick lifted, letting the little dragon get out to breathe. And breath it did, staring at him as if staring at an annoying child. One seemingly not that far off as Rick quickly pulled the blanket over the dragon’s head again.

This time it would not go down without a fight, quickly pushing against Rick’s hold on the blanket. But Rick held firm, and the dragon struggled in vain, trapped as it was.

Then, without a warning, he opened the flap and let go of the blanket. The dragon’s head bursting out with a flare of red, eyes like daggers staring in slight confusion until they settled on Rick. But the dragon’s thrust was too quick, too hard, and its momentum did not yield. Instead, it travelled along the blanket and pushed the dragon onward, onwards towards the bed’s edge.

Realising its predicament, the dragon looked away from Rick and down on the ground, slightly elevated. It did everything it could as it struggled to not move forward, everything meaning it simply made the decent towards certain doom come on even faster as the ball of a mess increased in speed.

Soon, it would fall. And if its flared nostrils and enlarged eyes were any sign, it knew of its certain death. Doom fast approaching.

It rolled over, it fell, and it plopped with a grace of a wet fart onto the ground. Falling so gently that a baby would not even notice.

And Rick could do not, but smile. Smile turning innocent as the dragon flailed itself free, staring up at him in deathly silence. Rick blinking innocently, dragon menacingly. Seconds turning slowly as the dragon flared its nostrils threatingly, back pushed upwards to make itself look bigger. Frey whistling soundlessly, looking everywhere but directly at the dragon.

The two shocked out of their play as a knock echoed out from the door, followed by a voice. Male voice, quiet and timid.

“Food is ready, master.”

A voice that cast Rick into the deep end of a frozen lake, shocking him into action as he urgently pushed the little dragon back into the ball of blanket, meeting little resistance, then putting the ball on top of the bed.

Taking a step back, he could tell that the ball looked out of place, misplaced, stupid even. He didn’t have time for more as the door slowly opened.

Turning to look, Rick spotted the young man, carrying a tray of foodstuffs awkwardly balanced in betweenst two slightly skinny arms. A bead of sweat formed at the back of his neck, pushed aside as Rick walked forward and closed the door behind the young man, getting a glimpse of one guard looking within.

Looking back at the young man, he spotted him struggling slightly, too focused within their own mind to notice the peculiarly disheveled room. Focusing hard on balancing the far too big tray of food, filled to the brim with baked goods and meat. A lot of meat.

Walking up to the young man, Rick grabbed the tray from him, meeting a shocked reaction, quickly dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

Swiftly, Rick walked up to the table and put the tray down, looking back on the mixed reactions of the young man. Eyes looking everywhere but at Rick directly, opening his mouth as if to speak, closing it soon after. Instead, his eyes drifted around the room, finally taking it in just how disheveled it was, and looking around even more. Eyes seemingly searching, stopping as they spotted the ball of blanket.

“Does the master wish for me to clean?”

The young man asked, and Rick shook his head vehemently. Hurriedly, Rick walked up to stand in the middle of the bed and the young man. His eyes staring into the young mans. Two sets of eyes staring into one another, brown against green. The young man first to avert the gaze.

“As the master wishes.”

He quickly responded, eyes despondent as they looked down, down on his own two feet. Rick saw, Rick felt something, Rick remembered and ushered the young man forward towards the table. The young man froze at the touch but let himself be guided, guided until he noticed where.

“N-no master, I r-really can’t.”

But Rick would not have a no as he quickly pushed the young man down on the singular chair, pointing down on the food and up at the young man. The young man looked down on the food, then up at Rick, looking pleading, looking, pained.

Rick simply shook his head, pointed down once more before grabbing a piece of meat for himself. A bite, big and healthy, chewing loudly as he once more pointed down on the food.

As Rick chewed mightily, he waited patiently while the young man seemed troubled, split on what to do. Chewing, swallowing and breathing out soundlessly, Rick tapped the shoulder of the man and brought his attention up, up at him. And as the young man looked up, Rick quickly gestured with a finger over his mouth, hushing it, closing it, locking it and then throwing the key away. Next, he pointed down on the food and smiled big, albeit awkwardly.

The young man stared with big eyes, eyes torn. He looked down at the food, up on Rick, then down at the food.

Rick could see how the gears were turning, yet he remained patient, simply taking another bite of his meat, savoring the delicious, albeit weirdly sweat taste.

Then the young man started quivering, shaking, sobbing. Sobbing turning to silent crying as the young mans back leaned heavily forward. A frown forming on Rick’s face, placing a warm hand down on the young mans back.

A hand placed, freezing the young man into place. A hand that slowly, ever so gently, caressed the young mans back and shoulder. Gently, like a father to their son.

And not long after, the freezing man let loose, tears falling ever so slowly, but fall they did. Holding back the best he could, his hands taking a firm grip around his respective legs, tight as if trying to make the pain push away the tears.

It didn’t seem to help.

Then the young man spoke, silently, chokingly, nothing more than a whisper, no louder than the wind of a cool breeze.

It was louder than a raging storm.

“He knows.”

The young man said, and Rick’s hand stopped. The young man didn’t stop.

“He will come for you at midnight. Then when you’ve left, he will blow up the house”

Words whispered in between sobs, tears slowly trickling down a wet cheek. Rick staring down with nothing but disbelief forming on his face.

He was trapped, like the fay in the bottle.