The Golden Dragon's Hoard

2 - 2

"Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We're so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone."
―Haruki Murakami

Hey guys! Part two is here and I hope you enjoy it. I love this one because it shows a bit more of the domestic nature of a lot of these relationships that I couldn't show in the first part because they were still getting to know each other and getting to be truly comfortable.
I always wanted to show more of a familial, loving relationship between a parent and a child, far too often it's a purely tyrannical or harsh bond, something negative. Or it's none-existent. As someone with a good dad a lot like Atlas (but far, far goofier), I wanted  to portray that.

Part Two - Chapter Two
"The Dragon's Half-Forgotten Witch"

Standing at the edge of the kitchen, Stray hesitates to enter, watching Athanasius make potato stew, his wings tucked away but his horns and tail staying out even in this form.

He's still too young (by about a decade) to hide his own dragonic features.

His dad just hides them, most days, for the pure convenience of it. To be quite honest, he can't wait to be capable to do the same. It willl make a lot so much easier—when traveling to different towns where the more magical creatures aren't too welcomed he won't have to wear a disguise, he won't have to struggle to fit in, and he'll be a lot less elegant when swimming.

"I can feel you lurkin', Aster," his protector grumbles, tilting his head back just a bit to look at him as he jumps. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the golden dragon shuffles awkwardly. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" Atlas shifts to face him fully now, worry evident in the pinch of his brows. He turns the burner down and puts a lid on the pot, steam quickly clouding the surface. He moves to lean against the counter, gesturing the youngling over.

Stray dutifully goes to him, sliding himself easily into his dad's arms, tails winding together. He feels some of the tension leak from his shoulders but the frown over his lips stays.

Love-love-love, mine, gets rumbled at him. Safe-yes-good?

Safe-loved-safe, he growls low in his throat. Yours-yours-yours.

"C'mon, treasure," his dad murmurs, resting his chin on his head, mindful of his horns. Safe-protected-safe. "You've been distracted for a while now and it's not that I mind it, but I get worried when I wake up and yer right there, lookin' more tired everyday. Tell me what's goin' on."

Confused-concerned, the youngling whines, wiggling closer. "M'just—I'm having these, these dreams and they're weird. Really fucking weird. I can't figure them out but I remember—"

He cuts himself off, choking on a sharp inhale.

Atlas' chuffs deepen, his hands soothingly rubbing over his wings. He whines again, hiding his face against the onslaught of comfort.

"I'm not goin' to judge ya for anythin' you say, love," his protector says, clutching him closer. "I just want to help, tell me as much as you want—or need—to."

"I know," Stray whispers, throat all tight, heart pounding. "Back there with, with my—the catchers." Atlas tenses underneath him and he's quick to purr a safe-safe-loved up at his dad. He knows how angry his coven gets at what happened. "There was this witch, I actually don't really know them, not even their face or what specifically they did. I don't have any memories of them until now, but they... they were kind to me."