Wes had underestimated Blaine, again. He had known of course that he was going to have to drag the younger dragon back to Dalkinely by whatever means necessary and he had prepared himself to have to hurt his fleet brother, but he had not actually thought that Blaine could bring himself to do the same with any real vigor. It just wasn’t in his friends nature.

Finding Jeff alone outside a burned stretch of forest, in his man shape, bruised and still unable to retake his natural form without great pain had proven just how wrong he was.

“I don’t understand. When you saw that Blaine was trying to protect the demihuman why didn’t you just stand down?” Trent asked the young dragon for what felt like the tenth time since they’d found him.

“I tried.” Jeff groused, brushing his flaxen hair out of his eyes. “I’m not telling tales Trent, Blaine had every intention of killing me. I was begging for my life. You heard me.”

David looked up from where he sat rifling through a bundle of wrapped items that they’d found during their inspection of the area. Kurt’s scent was all over it, and they’d found it snagged in a tree branch so it mush have fallen when they’d taken flight again after breaking up their camp sight.

“The whole fleet heard” the dark skin dragon murmured and a shudder went don their collective spines.

Dalkinley’s warrior fleet was a well kept secret and they were tightly woven together. Most of them had been nest brothers, raised together since the egg, watched over by Dalkinley’s head nurse mother. They were linked by strong magic, and when Jeff had been in the jaws of death pleading for his life they had collectively heard it.

“A dragon slaughtering a fleet brother over an demihuman?” Trent scoffed, but Wes heard the underlining fear, the betrayal in his voice.

“Are you sure there isn’t more to it Jeff?” David asked hesitantly and the younger dragon sighed.

“I’m telling you. I came across Kurt first and he ran into the forest for cover. So I decided to burn him out.”

“Unwise since you could as easily have killed him” Trent mumbled and David shushed him with a glare. He held up a couple of nearly empty flasks and opened them to sniff out their contents.

“Sage oil,” he commented mostly to himself, “now for what purpose....”

“Well Blaine seemed to think I was going to kill his elf,” Jeff huffed ignoring David. “Because the next thing I know trees are moving and Blaine tries to tear my head off my neck. There was lightning and thunder and rain and it all just blurred together.”

Wes frowned at that, an inkling of suspicion beginning to work its way to the forefront of his mind. Dragons had magic strong magic tied to the earth, but they could not manipulate the elements to the degree that Jeff had described. The sudden storm, the trees moving, that sounded like the work of the Sidhe. But that should have been impossible, that would have to mean of course that Kurt had been the one to move the trees and call the storm.

There was no telling of course how much power a demihuman inherited. The general rule was that the higher the caste of the parent, the stronger the child, but it was also true that the higher the caste the less likely the Sidhe could be taken alive and sold.

Because of that there simply weren’t demihuman’s who could brew up a storm and move whole trees. Wes now had a bit of a mystery on his hands on top of everything else he had to deal with.
Kurt was already their problem since he knew too much for his own good, but Wes was becoming increasingly certain that the demihuman would need to be guarded closely even once they returned to Dalkinley.

Kurt was the only free demihuman in existence, that in itself raised questions. Such as how that had come to be and who his sires were. It was outside of Sidhe law to produce offspring with humans, and any offspring found was quickly destroyed. It might have seemed like a cruel practice to outsiders but no crueler than putting the entire species in danger. Demihuman’s were a threat to the safety of the entire Sidhe. Not enough magic to prevent control by dragons but enough magic in the blood to lead their masters past safeguards and into Sidhe lands.

It was possible that Kurt was some Sidhe’s bastard, and his sire had perhaps not had the stomach to kill him. Perhaps he had hidden the boy away and hoped his lineage would never come to light.

But no, Wes’s frown deepened as Kurt’s face came to him just as it had been that day in the tavern, haunted and angry. That wasn’t right.

His mother had been a slave. More mysteries and more impossibilities.

Escaping slaves were not unheard of. Slaves who escaped the dragan lands entirely however were. They were surrounded by sea, no Sidhe would be allowed on board a ship leaving dragan country. When slaves escaped they escaped to the republic, the only place they would ever know any semblance of freedom.

Whoever she was and however she had escaped, Kurt’s mother had to have been of high caste, perhaps even the highest, in order for a son of mixed blood to display the power that Kurt had displayed and even then Kurt should not have been able to unless... unless of course he was drawing power from Blaine, using him as his anchor.

Wes allowed the troublesome thought its moment in the light, examining it carefully, before filing it away.

That was yet another impossibility. The only person who could draw from a dragon was their rider.

“We’ve tarried enough here.” He ordered the rest, “prepare yourselves to fly.”

“I’m sorry captain but I’m afraid I can’t” Jeff replied meekly from where he lay on the ground. “I’ve tried polly morphing but I don’t think I can. Not until I heal.”

“Fine then. We camp here until you are able to fly.” Nothing was ever easy was it.

As he walked away from his companions Wes heard Jeff grumble, “no need to bite us captain.”

“He has fallen into season. You remember what a trial Blaine was to be around during his first? It will pass” He heard David reply and he was sorely tempted to turn around and burn the lot of them. But those were the actions of moody dragons in season and Wes was not a moody dragon in season! He was just tired of dealing with his unruly brothers. Why had he not brought one of their sisters along? He could do with having a woman around. He really could.

# # # # # # # #

The city of Vagru was much lager than the tiny village of Bale. It was home to one of the largest ports this side of dragan sea, and it drew folk from every corner of the shael come to trade in one of their worlds largest markets.

A towering longhouse stood in the center of the city atop a hill, surrounded by well kept if humble houses carved from stone. They spilled out into bustling streets lined with cruder wooden structures, and they ended at the docks which were lined with shops, ale houses, and as Kurt and Blaine had noted upon arrival, a house of pleasure.

Much to his ire he’d had to practically drag Blaine away from the bright lights and sultry sounds of harp strings, though the dragon insisted later he had no idea what such a place was used for. Apparently his vaunted republic did not have houses for whores. Innocent curiosity or not their arrival on the borders of Vagru had found them with Kurt rumpled and worn, and Blaine rather unfortunately without clothes.

The last thing they needed was for Blaine to be caught bare and only covered by a thin cloak outside a house for whores. They would think Kurt was stealing him from his madame, and Kurt did not feel like spending a night in a cell for Blaine’s curiosity.

They had arrived in Vagru just before dawn after a full day of flight. Kurt had detested every minute of flying but he’d bit his tongue because he knew they didn’t have any other choice for the time being, and Blaine was sacrificing much letting him on his back at all. Still, it had been impossible for Blaine to miss and they had spoken little during the flight. When Blaine landed them on the outskirts of Vagru the air between them had held all the tension and strain of that between a man who woke to find himself in a bed other than his own and a hunched back dockside girl. They’d kept their silence on the subject, and Kurt had wrapped Blaine in the only cloak he’d packed in his satchel before they’d gone in search of something suitable for Blaine to wear.

With so many strangers going in and out of Vagru its citizens had learned caution and it was harder than Kurt anticipated to procure some clothing for Blaine. There was an air of suspicion that permuted the place, a haunted look behind the eyes of those they passed in the streets that worried Kurt.

They’d finally been forced to buy a pair of trousers off of a an old peddler, the only man they could find who would give them the time of day long enough to answer their questions and hear their strange request. Kurt would have bought Blaine a shirt but the old man had just grinned toothless at them when he’d asked and replied, “I only got the one. It’s warm season.”

It being high summer, Blaine was far from the only man walking around in naught but his trousers so even though Kurt would have preferred him to be fully clothed, he gave it up as lost and they continued on their way.

“So what next?” Blaine asked as he came out from behind a shop in his new trousers wrapping Kurt’s cloak up into a bundle. Kurt stared for a moment, admiring the olive tones of his skin and the sinew of his arms as they wrapped up his cloak. Realizing he was stirring up desires that would only bring trouble he cleared his throat and looked away from him. He couldn’t stop his cheeks from pinking, hard as he tried.

“Now we continue on asking after my brothers ship. Someone has to have word of Bright Star.”

# # # # # # # # # # # #

That proved just as difficult as finding a shirt had been. Each person that Blaine and Kurt approached was gruff with them, insisting that if they had nothing to sell or buy there was nothing to speak on. Some were even openly hostile. When Kurt tried to stop a group of sailors coming off of a merchant ship they cursed at him, shoving him to the ground and would have even kicked at him if Blaine hadn’t quickly got between them and hissed them away in warning.

Kurt was the one carrying the dagger but Blaine had natural weapons, and simply dropping his glamour was usually enough to scare off most men. The sudden appearance of inked markings on his skin and the flash of gold in his eyes was enough to alert the sailors that should he choose he could kill them in seconds, and they backed hastily away.

“Keep yer slave on a tighter leash or he’ll get his pretty throat cut. Ye’ll not be baiting us!” One of the braver men yelled before he was dragged away by his companions.

Baiting? Blaine had heard of that.

Humans were not allowed into the dragan lands unless they were bringing cargo or they were ‘offering themselves’ as breeders. The dragan had a truce with the king of men that they would take no man or woman to breed with sidhe slaves unless they were willing. But there was a loophole for everything. sidhe were alluring creatures, easily capable of luring the unwary into compliance. Many dragon masters used their slaves as bait, for the sole purpose of leading young men and women blindly into lives where they were little more than broodmares and studs, and treated about as fairly.

Why would those men think Kurt was a baiter?

Blaine looked to Kurt and caught his breath. Perhaps it was because they had been traveling together with nothing really to look at but each other, but Blaine had not noticed the changes in his companion until now. They were slight, so slight that they should not have made much of a difference, but they were there just the same and they made all the difference in the world.

The shape of his eyes, his scent, the point to his ears even, all of it seemed slightly more than it had been before, as if Kurt had been a washed out scrap of parchment and now he was a vibrant tapestry full of bold colors. There was no mistaking his sidhe origins now, and a sidhe this close to dragan country had to be owned by someone.

“Kurt are you alright?” Blaine knelt to inspect Kurt who had sat up but not risen to his feet. He was running his fingers over his bruised cheek and wincing. When Blaine tried to inspect the bruise himself Kurt pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine. They just caught me by surprise.” Kurt replied stiffly, climbing to his feet and dusting off his leggings. They both turned at the sound of wheezing laughter to find the old peddler leaning against a post not too far from where they stood, watching them gleefully.

“Ye won’t find too many folk wanting to talk to an elfling today. Not aft last nights collection no sir” the old man chuckled and Kurt made an impatient sound in the back of his throat.

“Why must everyone insist on calling me that. I am as much human as I am Sidhe!”

“Aye now? Couldn’t tell it by the looks of ye” the old man gwafed, his cheer undaunted by Kurt’s glower.

“Good fellow, what is this collection you speak of?” Blaine asked, because the term sounded familiar but he could not place it. No doubt it was something miss Emma had tried to teach him but he had not been paying attention.

“A polite dragon who doesn’t know about collections?” The old man cackled, “riddles riddles everywhere. There are twisted folk, heartless men who turn against their own and make deals with dragan catchers. They go a’baiting with their masters slaves and get the innocent to vow their lives away. Once the vows have been made these traitors go about collecting the names on their list and no one can stop em. ‘Cause the youngins, they agreed to it didn’t they, so everything is within the law now ain’t it?”

Now he remembered. Miss Emma had explained to him where the demihumans came from and how they were bred. It had always struck him as unfair, but he had always been distant from it. Now after tasting the fear and the scent of grief that permuted Vagru on his tongue, and having seen the haunted looks in their eyes, Blaine’s belly churned with distaste. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Kurt. After all, these were the actions of his people. He was dragon, and perhaps Kurt had good reason after all not to want to have much to do with him beyond what they needed of each other.

“Wonderful” Kurt commented dryly fixing his hair where wind off the sea continually knocked it loose. “So no one will talk to us because they think I’m trying to hoodwink them. Truly, wonderful”

“Well if ye didn’t look so much like ye were a damned elfling prince ye might be able to convince folk ye wasn’t naught but human” the old man murmured, lookin them both over with a considering eye. “Yer glamour is good lad but your elfling gives ye away. Yer either a dragon or some poor sap being baited traveling with the like o’ him and ye don’t have the look of a baited man. Not nearly smitten enough. Ye need to hide yer elf wi-”

“For the last time!” Kurt shouted before Blaine could stop him, not that Blaine thought he could stop him or felt he even had a right, because every time someone called Kurt his elf he wanted to curl up with shame.“I am not his!”

The words cracked like thunder and Blaine flinched beneath them. It was foolish and it made very little sense but it was not something that Blaine could stop at will. Just as he couldn't stop himself from being disappointed that Kurt did not enjoy the sky as he did, that his fantasies of what they would be like as partners in flight proved to be naught but foundless daydreams beneath Kurt’s terror, neither could he stop the ache of hurt in him in response to Kurt’s words.

Igraine’s pendant pulsed dimly against the skin above his heart, three short dull throbs in time with the pain Blaine felt. Kurt whirled on him, fury and challenge in his eyes, daring Blaine to say something to the contrary but he kept his tongue and his eyes downward.

Kurt was right. He had no right to be hurt over a simple truth, especially this truth. Kurt wasn’t his and he shouldn’t want him to be, or want him to want to be.... his feelings confused him.

What was the matter with him? He’d always had servants but never before had he wanted one. So why did Kurt not being his prick him so? How dare he.

The old man gaped at Kurt for a moment, the people already giving them a wide berth putting more distance between themselves and the two strange men in their midst. And then the old man started to cry silent tears and shake with what at first appeared to be sobs but with the first wheeze they learned was actually laughter.

“Aye, milord a free elf indeed. I knew this day would come, I knew, and I am ready just as I told them I would be” the old peddler whispered wiping tears from his eyes. Then so quickly it chilled Blaine, his cheerfully wizened face sobered and he eyed everyone around them as if they had become enemies. “Best to come with me lads, not every ear on these streets belongs to friends. And I’d do a lot less shouting about yer freedom if I were ye milord. Ye don’t have any sage on ye I imagine?”

Confused, Blaine watched Kurt shake his head, even though to Blaine’s senses Kurt still smelled strongly of the plant as he always did.

“No.” Kurt replied, “I had a bottle of oil but it is lost to me now.”

“Pity” the old man muttered, “then with all do respect milord ye might want to act as if you do belong to the lad here. And ye lad might as well show everyone what ye are. It will make folk wary to cross us as we travel.”

That bit of news alarmed Blaine quite a bit because the old peddler was a stranger, and a strange stranger at that. But the old man was turning and already hurrying his way up the stone pathed road, deeper into the city.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked, wondering what they should do. Kurt did not answer immediately, biting his lip as he watched the old man getting farther and farther away.

“He’s the only one who has been willing to help us so far Blaine, and I can’t leave without word of my brother.” Kurt finally answered with conviction.

Though his basic instincts warned against it, there was a stronger instinct in Blaine to obey, to trust that Kurt would not lead them astray. He nodded almost without thought and dropped his glamour again. Kurt didn’t immediately follow after the old man and Blaine flushed, remembering the old mans words about pretending that Kurt belonged to him. The master of course would move first.

“Kurt I-”

“We’re going to lose him Blaine.” Kurt cut him off, his eyes burning into something just over Blaine’s head. The other man would not meet his eyes. “Let’s go.”

# # # # # # # # # # #

They followed the old man deep into Vagru, past its rough outer edges and into the noticeably wealthier district, the home of Vagru’s regent lord looming larger and larger over them as they approached the longhouse on the hill. As the old peddler had predicted people continued to give the dragon and his slave a wide berth, though their eyes followed them as they wound their way through Vagru’s narrow streets.

Though Kurt smarted inside, having to stay behind Blaine and play the meek servant, he was thankful for that.

“First chance I get I am procuring some more sage oil” he muttered to himself, just to ease the burning in his gut. He tried not to grit his teeth when Blaine looked at him curiously. He was trying not to take his bad mood out on Blaine but it was extremely hard when he was currently trailing along behind in his shadow and he still had the memory of Blaine’s response to his reminder of his freedom fresh in his mind. He had felt it, not just the hurt in response to his words but the underlining want.

No matter what Blaine and his blasted republic said of being against the slave trade, Kurt now knew that Blaine wanted to possess him, already felt in some way that Kurt belonged to him, and he knew that Kurt knew. They didn’t speak to each other as they followed along behind the old man.

But Blaine ventured to break that silence, tentatively asking “why? Why did the old man ask you if you had sage oil? What does it do for you?”

“My mother told me that sage is called the ‘sleep plant’ amongst the Sidhe.” Kurt explained, keeping his eyes just over Blaine’s head. “It has an affect on them that is best described as muting. It steals their powers, it dulls their appearance, and the right amount can either kill them or pull them into a drugged sleep.”

“So you and your mother....you dulled yourselves, like I do when I wear a glamour?” Blaine asked and Kurt nodded shortly, hoping Blaine would get the message and not attempt to talk anymore.

For awhile Blaine said nothing and Kurt settled back into his own thoughts, comfortable with his anger and his resentment. But then Blaine turned back to him and stopped as if waiting for Kurt to catch up. Pointedly Kurt stopped, refusing to continue onward until his master was walking again.

He stared at the dragon male, waiting to see what he had stopped for. What did Blaine want? To try and convince Kurt that he didn’t deep down feel some desire to own him? That he was different from other dragons? They both knew that was a lie.

Blaine let out a weary sigh as if he were dealing with an unruly child and marched the few feet separating them to grab Kurt by the shoulders. He pulled Kurt along, refusing to let him drop behind him again though Kurt certainly tried to.

“I’m not actually your slave, much as you might wish it” Kurt hissed in the other man’s ear, “let go of me!”

“Ah but you have done everything to remind me that I am in fact playing your master and how terrible that makes me” Blaine snapped in reply. “I wish you to walk alongside me, so are you going to walk with me willingly or act the child the whole way?”

“Well if that’s an order than I suppose I must” he snapped back icily, more irritated at the fact that Blaine managed to make him feel childish than anything else.

“There is nothing you must do Kurt.” Blaine grumbled letting Kurt go when he twisted himself away. “I forced nothing on you, nor will I ever. I wouldn’t do that to anyone and especially not to you who has respected my desire not to bear a rider; and yet I have born you on my back for expedience sake, and with good grace. More than I can say of you at the moment.”

The words bit into Kurt, for they were true. Blaine had let him ride, and would again before their journey was done, despite all of his personal inclinations against it and not once had he ever made Kurt feel as if he was purposefully demeaning him. He was being horribly unfair, he knew that.

Kurt bit his tongue and blinked away the prick of angry tears. They walked in silence again as Kurt nursed his injured pride and tried to express himself in a way that wasn’t that of a child in a snit.

“I do not in my heart wish to be your rider” he finally managed to say, angling closer to Blaine as they walked, holding his gaze as fiercely as he had avoided it before. “Can you say the same of wanting me to be your possession?”

“Aye-”

“No! You lie. Do not speak untrue when you know I know your feelings.” Kurt demanded, voice louder than he expected and drawing more eyes toward them. Ahead the peddler turned and pressed a finger to his lips.

“I feel what you feel, or did you forget?” Kurt asked in a harsh whisper as they walked through an arch way that led them to a giant ornamented gate. They were outside the longhouse he realized and he felt a cold tingle of fear go down his spine. Why would the old man lead them to the regent lord?

“Feelings speak aye Kurt, but perhaps they do not say what you think they do” Blaine hissed right back and the peddler eyed them both with disgruntled amusement.

“Forgive me milords but no one with half a wit would mistake ye for a master and a servant with the way that ye holler at each other like an old man and ‘is wife” he chuckled as he peered through the gate and into the longhouse yards. “But if ye value yer lives I suggest ye learn to play the part. A dragon alone is not safe here and a free elf is only free so long as no one knows.”

“Where are we?” Blaine asked peering past the old man into the courtyard where a man in richly appointed armor followed by several others who appeared to be guards of some sort marched toward them. For the first time Kurt began to truly worry that he was leading them into some sort of trap.

If they were to run it had to be now.

“At the home of regent lord Jonathan of the house of Vonberie,” the old man answered with a smug grin, “Ye’ want to ask him after his daughter Rachelle. She tried to run away with a sailor on Bright Star last time it was in port. Quite the scandal it were.”

“And why did you not mention this before when we asked you if you had word of the ship?!” Kurt demanded sharply, at once elated and suspicious of the old man’s words.

“Well I thought ye were baiters and trappers then now didn’t I?” The old man scoffed. The men from the regents house were nearly upon them now. “Now whatever you do, no more talk. I beg of ye, if ye love yer hide act the slave.”

Kurt wanted to run, every instinct he had told him not to follow this strange old man into the regent lords home but this was the closest he’d been to anyone who might know of where he could find Bright Star and he simply couldn’t run without knowing.

But if it was a trap?

He was rescued from his turmoil at the soft touch of a hand at his shoulder, solid and comforting.

‘I won’t leave your side, Kurt. Whatever awaits us we face it together.’

Kurt could never admit how much those words gave him courage. He looked to Blaine as the gates swung open and hoped that what he felt was in his eyes.

TBC