Hermann catches his breath and closes his eyes for a few moment, tilting the mug of ale back and heart sinking when he realises it’s empty;
He swallows against his dry through and opens his eyes, blinking to see someone standing very close, on the other side of his table;
At first, he thinks they’re another dragon, but then he looks beyond those vivid green eyes and- oh, he’s human, of course;
He’s smiling, and as tiring as today has been, Hermann’s can’t help but smile back, it’s infectious, and so friendly; a round, open face, wild dark hair;
Hermann feels his skin prickle, his palms sweat, it’s not anything he’s ever let himself think about, but- he’s no longer int he South, he’s no longer a prince who has to save himself for the day he’d be sold off to some stranger; if he likes this man, he can-
Gods, he can barley even think of it to himself;
He manages to swallow the blockage in his throat, “Can I help-”
The man smiles, “Nah, just wanted to buy you a drink;”
Hermann feels another wave of prickles break over him; “Get one for yourself,” he smiles, “I have free drinks as long as I’m working,”
“Good for business, eh;” the man goes to the counter and comes back with two new mugs, sliding one over to Hermann;
He sips it gratefully, the ale is kept in the deep cellar and is deliciously cool on his dry throat; the man sits down opposite and drinks deep; “Good, isn’t it?”
Hermann nods, he had never been allowed anything so- vulgar before coming here, and he likes the light, citrus-bitter taste of the drink; “Do you want- anything-” he starts;
“I said no, I just kinda- wanted to see the guy who can talk to dragons;”
“Oh,” Hermann blinks, it’s the first time anyone has asked; the people here are practical, more interested in what he can do for them than the- strangeness of his gift; “I just- is it really so rare, people say it’s only me and-”
“The king, and the Lady of the Highlands,” the man nods, “Yep, just you three,”
Hermann shakes his head, it doesn’t see real, some sort of magic, but nothing he could have studied-
“Anyway,” the man sits forwards, elbows on the table, “I’m Newt, I kinda- fly around, check things out;”
“I suppose I’m rather- an oddity,” Hermann sighs, sips his drink, “My name is Hermann,”
“Yeah, I heard,” he puts his hand on the table, by Hermann’s, “Do you know how it happened- how you learned to talk-”
“There isn’t much to say,” Hermann sighs, “I didn’t even know I could do it-”
And the whole story comes out, the hunt, Yarila and her eggs, the shock of realising how much he thought he had known had been lies, joining Yarila in her escape-
He only leaves out who his father had been, there are enough dragon hunts that it shouldn’t arouse suspicion;
“I couldn’t go home, after that,” Hermann sighs, “It’s- forbidden to aid dragons, treason; I- couldn’t-”
He swallows, drinks, feels still faintly ill at the thought; he wonders what they are thinking about him, back there- had Lars told them the truth, or had he lied and told them Hermann had been killed, to save them the shame;
Newt takes his hand and squeezes it, the touch is such a shock- it’s the first time a human has touched him in- he doesn’t know;since the South, but no one had ever been that close to him there either; his thumbs gently rubs across his palm, and the soft, tender touch shoots cold fire up his spine;
“Noble house huh,” Newt smiles, “A bit of a change,”
“I’m glad of it,” Hermann sighs, “It wasn’t much of a life down there for me;”
Newt squeezes his hand, “I’m glad you like it here,” his smile turns soft, a little self-deprecating, “We’re not as rich or as- fancy as the South, but it’s a good place;”
“It is,” Hermann smiles, “You must see a lot of it, if you travel,”
And then Newt talks, as the night closes in, and the tavern fills with people for dinner; Newt calls them over a plate of cold meats, fruit and cheese, and they tuck in;
Newt tells him about long flights over the Highlands, the air so chill it was like ice, the glorious dancing lights in the sky of the far north; the volcanic vents in the mountains, around which the royal palace was built;
And the dragons, the reds of the plains and the blues of the mountains, the few moss greens that found their way North, the frost-furred serpents of the Icesea, his own dragon-brother, who he called Kodachi;
“Is it the same with you,” Newt smiles over the lowering candle flame, “With- Yarila, was it?”
Hermann hesitates, then nods slowly, dragon-sister; it’s hard to draw an equivalence between hard, warlike Karla, the great general; and calm, thoughtful Yarila- but, it feels right; he wonders if he should ask her;
“You should,” Newt agrees when he brings it up, “It’s a good thing to have mixed-families, and especially if it’s with someone who can speak both languages,”
His hand is still on Hermann’s, light and gentle; Hermann gives a nervous smile, and sips the ale; he’s had more than usual, and his mind feels light and faintly spinning;
Newt leans in a little closer, his arms are solid under his tunic, firm from what must be years on dragonback, if his stories are true;
Hermann swallows his fear, pushes it away and leans in too- Newt rises to meet him, and their lips touch;
Hermann sends a quick message to Yarila, telling her he won;t be home tonight, and Newt takes his hand, pulling him upstairs to his room;
Hermann’s heart hammers, even with the alcohol giving him courage- he’s never done this before, is a little afraid-
“It’s okay,” Newt pulls him in, his hands going to his jacket, undoing the toggles, “You never done this before-” when Hermann shakes his head, he comes in to kiss him again, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine- we’ll have a great time;”
Hermann smiles, finds the hem of Newt’s shirt, slides his hands under it- his skin is so soft, so warm- and eases him towards the bed.
Skull Bearer 