Chapter Text
"A dragon, you say?" Radahn settles his chin upon the back of his hands as the soldier before him gives an affirmation. "I don't recall sighting dragons to be a rare phenomenon."
The Demigod raises a brow as his worried visitor blinks back. Perhaps if this was the time for dining and drinking, he would have found himself amused by the soldier's comically wide eyes. As he currently finds himself a slave to more serious matters, however, Radahn is doing what he can to refrain from unleashing his temper. He's commanded his troops to be better than this. Maybe this one's new.
"Do not misunderstand, General," answers the soldier. "It's not the dragon itself that's of interest, but rather the person on its back."
Radahn shrugs. "So, some poor fool had decided to hunt a dragon and got himself carried away into the clouds. Unfortunate, laughable even, but we're not desperate mercenaries who need to rescue every idiot who finds himself within Caelid's borders. Not everything needs our involvement."
"That's not at all what I'm trying to get at." The soldier's voice hardens, and Radahn leans in closer. It seems he's finally remembered what it takes to earn his general's interest. "I believe this man may know what he's doing," continues the soldier. "He and that dragon have been encircling the castle for nearly a quarter of an hour. If that crown on his head and the robes on his back are any indication, he may be seeking something out of you. Perhaps you should go see for yourself if I may so advise."
A crown? Radahn's heart quickens, though certainly not out of fear (as he fears very little). Rather, a crown suggests a king or a queen. And a royal patrolling his vicinity suggests a challenge. And a challenge is always intriguing.
"A king has come to visit me? On the back of a dragon at that?" Radahn lets a thick laugh wiggle free from his throat. The absurdity of the whole ordeal is only kindled by stating those words out loud. "Oh, what an honor indeed!" The glistening of dark curved steel perched upon a crimson wall now twinkles even more intensely. "I simply must greet this rare opportunity!"
As gold-adorned handles meet calloused hands, every soldier within every near and far inch of Redmane Castle seems to know what their commander intends to do. When the red-maned Demigod of Caelid takes his first step outside his stronghold, he already has trails of his loyal knights and soldiers ready to stand by their brilliant idol, each prepared to wield their swords and bows for his honor.
Radahn doesn't need to glance at the skies for more than a second to find the dragon in question. What does require more precious seconds is to notice the figure perched upon the beast's back. Radahn can't make out much of the figure, but the shine of his attire from dawn's light certainly piques the general's interest. The sun is a picky dancer, its light favoring leaps from the finest materials.
"How long has he been up there by now?" asks Radahn to the nearest Redmane knight. "He must have been patrolling for nearly half an hour now, no?"
"That would be correct," responds the knight.
"Well then..." Two black greatswords rise to the skies. "That's more than enough time to muster the courage to knock at a door."
By no means can these colossal weapons reach high enough to contact the dragon and its rider, but they're plenty high enough for their following impact against the ground to shake the earth underneath. Radahn hears the grunts and light gasps of his men behind him, but he does not turn around (if he were to do so, he would find that they'd still be upright— they are trained for this, after all). The same, however, cannot be said for the beast in the sky. A terrible screech spawns from its beak as it's pulled away from its elevation and toward the warriors below that await it.
As the dragon's desperate flapping of its wings saturates his hearing, Radahn squints as the man on its back becomes clearer. The oversized scarf around the stranger's face conceals much of his expression, but if Radahn had to guess from the bolt of lightning materializing in his hand, he is certainly not pleased to be interrupted.
"Well!" Radahn feels another laugh coiling in his chest. "What have we—"
Radahn crosses his swords in front of him just as his vision becomes flooded with blinding whites and yellows. His hands oscillate and sting as his blades absorb the lightning strike the challenger hurled.
"...Here!" Radahn gasps as his sight returns.
As he uncrosses his swords to again take in the sight of the man and his dragon, Radahn suddenly remembers that he is not alone. An entire army willing to die for him is situated just behind him. His teeth grind together like eroding rocks. This will not do at all, even if he is proud to have the respect and loyalty of each man who calls himself a Redmane.
"Take the dragon!" Radahn drills his blades into the grounds below, interrupting any of his men's attempts to punish the challenger for attempting to attack their general. He then pries his swords free from their earthy sheathes and grins as large rocks hover just inches from his face. "The man is mine!"
Radahn's smirk widens as one of these rocks hurls itself toward the challenger, leaving the challenger no choice but to leap off his scaley steed lest he wish to be hit. To Radahn's surprise, however, the man quickly regains his balance upon his landing. The general hardly has the time to blink before his opponent swings a colossal weapon of his own — a swordspear — to unleash what seems to be the essence of Storm itself. Radahn attempts to use his weapons to block the pack of dark clouds and winds charging toward him, but nature's raw wrath manages to knock the Demigod to his knees.
Panting, the large Demigod scrambles to grab his dropped weapons as he processes what had just occurred. He can't say he's ever witnessed anything like this, which has his war drum of a heart thundering within his ribcage. This challenger may be one with Storm, as Radahn is with Gravity. Radahn's shock transposes into excitement. He is not disappointing in the slightest.
"I see someone's had you trained for battle!" chortles Radahn as he pushes himself back up. He realizes he vocalized his observation as praise, but that may be alright with him. Once on foot, he raises his swords again to block the near impact of the swordspear's blade. As he presses his blades against this swordspear, Radahn takes this up-close chance to meet his opponent's eyes. For the first time in his life, Radahn cannot identify any signs of bloodlust, fear, or regret. These eyes before him are simply empty.
It's rare for attacks to be capable of stunning the Demigod, let alone for any to hit him at all. And yet, for every strike Radahn lands on his opponent, his opponent knocks him back with one of equal force. His body trembles as the phantom stings of lightning haunt his nerves, but surrendering to the sensation would mean not only the end of his life but also — even worse — the demise of his reputation. Thus, Radahn swallows down any temptation to give in to this warrior's blows and instead converts this neglected urge into lethal offenses of his own. Not once does his opponent's face imply weakness, so Radahn ensures that his own is likewise.
At some point during the duel, Radahn had tuned out the dragon's shrieks, but one cry in particular reclaims his attention. Even the stranger turns away from Radahn to look at his beast. The general takes in the sight of the poor dragon writhing and squealing as Radahn's men band together to shove the beast into the dirt and rope together its limbs and muzzle. In truth, Radahn finds himself surprised that his men managed to trap the large beast without his assistance, but he supposes that's precisely what makes them worthy of being part of his forces.
When he senses movement behind him, Radahn jerks his head back to see his opponent leaping upward in the dragon's direction as if carried by the wind. Outside of this duel, Radahn would have likely been impressed by this feat, but given this duel has not yet ended, Radahn instead identifies this move as an opportunity.
Radahn raises a foot, and once he recognizes that his opponent has reached his apex, he stomps it into the ground. The stranger's subsequent yelp has Radahn snorting, which evolves into a huff as he crashes into the ground. Given the height of the fall, there is no doubt that this man's limbs are damaged.
Despite that, however, the fallen warrior reaches for his swordspear and positions it such that he can use it to help himself back up. But he falls. He tries again, only to slip back to his knees. After a third attempt, the stranger seems to realize how troublesome an effort to get back on his feet would be, so he opts to crawl toward the dragon instead. Radahn scoffs. This is quite pitiful to look at.
"Keep hold of those ropes!" Radahn finally shouts at the men crowding the dragon. "But think not to hurt the dragon! And you," Radahn squeezes his fingers into his palm. His struggling opponent lets out another yelp as he is suddenly dragged toward the Demigod, "hold still for a moment so that I can get a closer look at you."
Interestingly, the stranger complies once Radahn finishes pulling him closer. The general kneels to look closer at his fallen opponent and tuts when he takes in the visage of the stranger's large, gold-tinted headpiece.
"So, that is a crown." Radahn jerks his head in the dragon's direction. "See that smaller lackey by your beast's head? He trailed into my study rambling on about how I needed to look at you with my own eyes because of this attire of yours. I admit, I had thought his imagination was playing a part in his report, but you really do think yourself a king, don't you?" Radahn doesn't give the stranger the time to answer before asking: "Who are you, exactly?"
The stranger lowers and shakes his head, refusing to meet the general's face. Radahn raises a brow as his opponent grunts and winces from the pain of moving. This is both annoying and amusing to witness.
"Let me address why I'm asking such a thing," hums Radahn. "You're dressed like that on the back of a dragon patrolling my castle. By any chance, does that make it clear why this warrants my concern?" Radahn lightly traces the tip of one of his swords along the patterns of the stranger's elaborate cuirass. "I'll only ask this once more: who are you?"
The stranger's expression does not falter, not even as Radahn brings the blade's tip higher and closer toward his neck.
Just before the blade can break contact with the cuirass to meet the stranger's skin, Radahn retracts his weapon. "If this is how you want to behave toward me, so be it." The general steps away from the stranger to look at the struggling dragon. "It's unfortunate, really, you have such a lovely steed." He raises his voice as he starts to walk toward the beast. "There's bound to be a wall in the castle which his head will accentuate—"
"You think about touching that dragon, and I'll rip that filthy mane off your scalp!"
Radahn freezes in his tracks as the stranger's bark rings throughout. He turns to look at the fallen warrior and watches as he finally shoves himself to his feet. How unanticipated. Furthermore, there's something different about this man, not just that he's bloodier and filthier than when the battle began. Instead, it's the stranger's focus, the focus that's primarily targeting Radahn but flickering to each member of the Redmane army behind him and adding them into the equation those now burning eyes are calculating.
Still eyeing the stranger, Radahn takes one step toward the dragon. "You'd do that in the state you're in?"
"I'll kill you and everyone here if you'd rather have that," growls the stranger as he raises his weapon, his weakened arm shaking but intent on following through with his words.
So, this man would be willing to die if it meant he even had a sliver of a chance to protect his beast. Radahn grins. This is a warrior he can respect.
"Well, you certainly know how to make impressions!" Radahn laughs as he lowers his swords. He turns to face his men. "Someone! Find a spare bedroom within the castle and escort him there. The dragon is free to leave as it pleases, so pay it no more mind."
"Forgive my inquiry," a familiar knight steps forward to make himself seen amongst his shocked, murmuring compatriots. "Are... are you insisting we invite your attacker as a guest?"
"That I am, Ogha," confirms Radahn with a grin. "This man won't be causing us any more trouble. So long as the dragon remains untouched, there will be no scalp harmed. I am certain of this."
Radahn finally gets to approach the dragon as his men rush away from it to handle the warrior. With some simple slices of his sword, the general has the dragon cut free of its ropes. To his amazement, the dragon does not flee. Radahn holds out his hand, wondering just how tame this beast must be given it is not fleeing or burning him to a crisp. Just as he is about to touch its azure scales, however, the dragon jerks its head to cry out, and Radahn turns to see what has caught the dragon's attention.
"I said, escort him there, not drag him away like some prisoner!" Radahn snaps when he sees how his men tightly and briskly take hold of his new guest. Quickly they release the stranger, the sudden lack of support resulting in him falling to his knees. One knight offers his hand to the stranger, but the warrior rejects it and shakily hoists himself back up instead.
"Good eye," Radahn praises the dragon with a chuckle. The dragon tilts its head at the general. "Go on then," smiles Radahn. "You're free to rid yourself from here."
"He won't be leaving without me."
Radahn tilts his head back to see the stranger attempting to pierce through him with a glare. Radahn sucks in a breath to conceal a laugh. "Is that so? Well, I'm afraid I'm not fond of the idea of having large pets like this one in my castle. I'm not bothered by him personally, but I doubt Leonard will want his companionship."
"He is no pet—"
"If there is a bedroom with a window available for our guest," Radahn raises his voice to alert his men, "do give it to him!" He raises his eyebrows at the stranger. "Better? You two can greet each other whenever you'd like now."
Radahn is met with silence as the stranger, now untouched but surrounded by soldiers, is guided toward the entrance of Redmane Castle. Before they can disappear within, Radahn calls out: "Ah! And do have the medic tend to his injuries after she is finished with me!"
~
It's just past midday when Radahn realizes he won't be able to pry his mind away from his new guest. He's willing to bet one of two things: one, that the stranger hasn't left that room since being put there, or two, that the stranger found the means to summon his dragon to his window so they could flee somewhere far away. Radahn reaches his answer quickly, however. If it were the latter, one of the younger recruits would have barged in by now to inform him.
Before he realizes it, Radahn's finds himself outside of his guest's room frowning at the soldier by the door. "He's really not attempted to leave?" he's asking the soldier.
"No, General." Judging from the pitch of his voice, the soldier seems just as surprised as Radahn.
"And what of the dragon?"
"Left alone per your orders. It's probably flying above still as we speak, but to my knowledge, it's still not lowered from the clouds since this morning's encounter."
"Fascinating." The stranger and his beast really are inseparable, given the beast hasn't lowered even for the sake of resting its wings. Radahn bites his lip. "What would you have done if you were in his position?" Radahn quickly adds to his question before the soldier can even answer. "As in, if you had no idea of my intentions, what would you do? Be honest and answer as if I were not your general."
"I suppose..." The soldier pauses in thought. "I would try to escape. I don't think I could get far alone given your security, but trying to do so anyway would be my instinct."
"I had considered that very thought earlier regarding our guest. He has the benefit of a window and ready transportation, but he's not taking it. It's curious."
"I do agree, General. I don't think I can understand him."
Radahn finds himself smiling at his soldier's input. He lowers his head in an attempt to meet the smaller man's eye level and murmurs: "Go occupy yourself with whatever you'd like. I'll handle him from here."
"Really? Are you—"
"Be quiet and quick about it!" Radahn hisses, though certainly out of hurry rather than frustration. "I've no clue if our guest is aware that you were stationed here, but let's try and give him the impression that you weren't."
Radahn catches that flicker of understanding in the soldier's eyes before the soldier lowers his head to bid him his gratitude. Once he's gone, Radahn carefully glides his fingers around the door handle, ready to properly greet his guest.
"How are you liking your room?" Radahn's voice rings throughout the room as he jerks the door open. He's expecting to take in the sight of his guest stiffened and startled by the sudden entrance. But to his surprise, that's not what Radahn finds.
Instead, he finds the stranger nestled against one of the bed's crimson show pillows as his hand hovers over his bicep. Radahn takes in his guest's serene state with intrigue. Ashen locks, relaxed and free from debris. Torso, bandaged and cleaned of blood, the only things left littering it being fresh and faded scars. With the scarf removed, his chiseled jawline is quite evident. Radahn also finds himself pleasantly surprised by the bulky muscles of his chest and arms previously hidden underneath strange attire. A rather large build like Radahn's own. That's uncommon to see.
A reciprocating interest cannot be said for the stranger, however. Instead, the stranger's sights dart to Radahn briefly before resuming to their original target. The idea of assigning this man some arbitrary punishment for his disinterest taunts Radahn, but the general dismisses it. That's an approach far too dull to pursue.
"What's that you're doing there?" Radahn takes the stranger's side to look closer at the gentle glow from his palm. "Healing? Did my medic not do that for you? She's not one to apply some bandages and consider her job done. The woman's too soft-hearted for that."
The stranger doesn't speak or break his gaze from his swollen arm.
"You didn't trust her, did you?" Radahn concludes from his reluctance to answer. "You would rather do it all yourself even if it would take days." The general hums as he continues to watch his guest's handiwork. "Hmm. Perhaps I should learn a thing or two about incantations, or at the very least, ones involving healing. My affinity and interest in sorcery is greater, but I suppose knowing how to heal with magic is useful for warriors such as us."
"My sister was a gifted healer. I learned a little from her."
Radahn blinks at the sudden voice. It's not at all the wrathful storm from earlier. Instead, it's soft, akin to distant thunder. Despite that, it's enough to catch the general off-guard. Radahn tilts his head. "A sister?"
The stranger withdraws his hand as if those words had burned him, and the glow from his hand quickly fades. His dulled golden eyes dig knives into Radahn's brighter ones. Perhaps on a battlefield, Radahn could admit that this glare would have an effect, but the same can't be said for now, not when this stranger is shirtless, weaponless, and curled up on a bed in Radahn's establishment.
"I presume you didn't mean to let that slip?" interprets the general with a chuckle. "I've no interest in her if that's your concern, especially if she's as aloof as you." The stranger gives no answer, nor does he relax his glare. A stubborn man this one is. He keeps his scowl glued on Radahn even when the Demigod walks away to grab a chair on the other side of the room.
"By now, you should realize I don't plan on harming you or your beast," Radahn raises his voice as he drops the chair in front of his guest. The subsequent noise rattles Radahn's eardrums, but the stranger doesn't even flinch. Radahn's lip twitches at that. "Let's try this again." Radahn raises his hands as he takes his seat in front of the stranger. "See? No weapons, no tricks, only inquiries. First, if you would be so kind as to tell me your name?"
Still, the stranger continues to stare. Radahn rolls his eyes. "Do end this silent treatment before I lose my patience; it's clear by now upholding such doesn't come naturally to you. Remember, I could change my mind about keeping your beast unharmed whenever I want."
Radahn restrains himself from smiling when he notices the stranger's breathing hitch. He should have realized sooner that the dragon would be his bargaining chip in getting his guest to oblige in talk. Radahn permits himself to grin only when the stranger gives in a sigh, but his smile quickly fades by the stranger's answer: "I don't have one."
"You don't have a name?" Radahn leans closer as if to pry a hidden truth, but he's aware that this stranger is not in a position to lie. "What, did your mother remember to give you a crown but not a name?"
No response, though this time, his silence seems to be out of astonishment rather than intent. "Alright, fine," continues the general. "At least you're finally speaking. I'll reward you with the chance to ask your own question. We can take turns. How does that sound?"
"Why capture me?" The question is immediate. Though unexpected, at least this guest is willing to comply.
"Capture?" Radahn can feel frustration boiling in his stomach as he properly absorbs the stranger's question. "You think yourself captured? I certainly don't give my captives their own rooms!" Before he can let out another word, however, Radahn bites his tongue to consider the stranger's circumstances. Here this man is, weakened from battle, and just moments prior, a soldier was stationed at his door. Perhaps he has every right to believe himself unsafe.
"To answer why you're here," resumes Radahn with an exhale, cooling whatever temper had attempted to burn through his composure. "It's because I find you interesting. I find the idea of fate ridiculous, but I admit it's curious that we met." He nods at the weapon propped within a weapon rack. "You seem to have already made yourself comfortable, so I assume you have no problem staying here."
Radahn reaches behind his back to stretch an arm upward. "My turn then. What reason did you have to patrol my castle? It's rather bold of you to be flying close to me and my men, given our reputation."
The stranger's eyes flicker at Radahn's stretched arm before returning to his face. "Curiosity. And I can't fear your reputation, given I've no clue who you and your men are. I know nothing of this place, its politics, nor its culture."
Radahn relaxes his arm at the answer. He never did introduce himself. But to be fair, he hadn't anticipated the need to, not when his name is universal (or so he had once thought).
"Oh, fine," Radahn shakes his head with a huff. "Even though I received no name from you, I suppose I'll be a proper host and give you mine. I am General Radahn of Redmane Castle, Son of Radagon and Conqueror of the Stars. To address your alarming lack of knowledge, you now find yourself in Caelid of The Lands Between, where my Redmanes and I are based."
Believing that to be enough information to satisfy the stranger's ignorance for now, Radahn proceeds. "That there gives me an idea for another question: where did you come from for you to have never heard of me nor my influence?"
"I hail from Lordran."
"Lordran?" Radahn repeats that word in his head. And again. And then one more time. Each time, the word only sounds stranger. "I've never heard of it— and I'm quite well-versed in politics and geography, even of regions outside of The Lands. Are you sure this place is real?"
"It must have been for me to be born there." The stranger raises a brow. "Also, I believe that was another question you just asked me."
Smartass. But Radahn finds himself impressed at the stranger's observation. "I suppose I owe you two answers then," he snorts. "Go on then. Ask the first of your two questions."
"How long am I to be given your... hospitality?"
"Until I grow bored." Radahn snickers as he watches the stranger's eyes blink. "If I'm being truthful, I would have likely been bored within a week had you kept persisting with sealed lips. Now that you're speaking, however, I believe you've extended your room and board duration. Well done."
Radahn gestures a hand at his guest. "You may ask your next question now."
"I have none left."
Now, it is Radahn's turn to take surprise. "Really? Nothing at all? You find yourself in lands unknown to you, and you've not even a care as to what will happen to you from here on out?"
The stranger shrugs. "So long as my companion remains unharmed. I could care less about myself."
A heap of disappointment collapses itself upon Radahn's shoulders. This man that was filled with determination and purpose on the battlefield was now but a shell before him. Where was that energy that had captured Radahn's attention? It's certainly within him somewhere; it must be. As Radahn learned from his extensive studies in sorcery, energy cannot be destroyed; hence, there's bound to be a way to reveal it again.
An idea scurries into Radahn's head, and the general makes no hesitation in voicing it. "I invite you to join me and my men in our dining hall tonight for a feast."
"I am not in need of your honor," mutters the stranger. His hand hovers back over his arm, and the soft light from the healing spell trickles from his palm.
Radahn narrows his eyes. "Do not mistake this offer as a sign of honor. It is simply an extension of my hospitality."
"Then, politely, I wish to decline your extension. Thank you."
Radahn can't help but release a groan as the stranger finally breaks eye contact to refocus on his limb. The stranger has no interest in getting acquainted, Radahn realizes. He is unsure whether this is still a matter of trust or if his guest truly is antisocial. Nonetheless, he will refuse to lose this war.
"At least you have some manners," Radahn hoists himself off his chair to stride to the bedroom's exit. "Well, you have my permission to starve if that's what you'd like. I'd hate to see what that'd do to your physique... but to each his own."
Radahn manages to lock eyes once more with his guest just before he shuts the door. He waits for a moment, probably minutes' worth if he had to guess. When nothing happens within that frame, he reluctantly retreats to his study.
Along the way, the general halts a passing knight. "Has the dragon lowered at all?"
"No, General."
"I see."
Once he's finally reached and locked himself in his study, Radahn closes his eyes and inhales.
I will get what I want out of you, my strange guest.
As he exhales, Radahn blinks his eyes open. He realizes he's not sure what exactly it is he wants.