Chapter Text
Owen groaned slightly as he kicked aside his threadbare blanket, the cool air against his bare back a relief where it met his seeping wounds despite how it made him shiver. He laid still to savor it, allowing himself one brief moment of self pity as he wondered how it would feel to be able to rest until he actually felt refreshed. But that single moment was all he allowed.
Owen had already been laid up in bed for days as his illness surged in a way it had never done before, coughing until his throat burned and bled as fresh lesions burst open across his body. It seemed a miracle that he had woken up at all, much less that the worst of the pain seemed to have passed. Owen didn't know how many days he'd lost to the illness, but it had been far too long. He couldn't waste any more time now that he was feeling better.
Sighing, Owen rolled onto his side and forced himself to sit up, reaching over to gather up his bandages from the pile he'd left them in when he'd first succumbed to the illness however many days ago.
Moving carefully, Owen wrapped his torso first, clenching his jaw as he pulled the used bandages tight over the fresh lesions that covered his back. They were bigger and more painful than the usual sores, and the rough texture of the stained and well-worn cloth scraped painfully against them, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Fresh bandages cost money and Owen considered himself lucky if he was able to afford food when he needed it. With the bandages pulled tight and knotted in place, the steady pressure kept the pain under control along with ensuring that he didn't bleed through his clothes.
With his back dealt with, Owen began to wrap each of his legs from ankle to thigh, keeping the bandages tight despite the shaking in his hands. Then he wrapped each arm, working his way down from shoulder to palm, ensuring that nothing was left uncovered. With all of his lesions hidden away, Owen eased into his clothes, his movements restricted by the tight bandages and the pain of the pressure on his wounds. It was nothing new.
Bandaged and dressed, Owen pivoted in place, letting his legs fall over the side of the bed and then slowly straightening. Not slowly enough. He paused once he was upright, breathing heavily and blinking away a rush of dizziness. A protest from his body at being made to move after days with nothing but water and carefully rationed bites of his limited smoked venison. He swallowed hard a few times, feeling a dull ache in his throat but there was no iron taste of blood and it hurt less than it had only the day before. In another few days, it might not hurt at all.
Owen was sorely tempted to wait until his throat stopped hurting before heading out, but he'd already put it off too long. Winter was coming and with it, the lack of prey and foragables that meant he would need money to keep himself fed. The longer he put off his work, the less money he'd have saved up for winter.
He did his best not to acknowledge the less practical reason for his eagerness to return to work.
Louis.
Not only had Owen missed Louis, but after so long Louis would be worried about him. The dragon didn't manage to slip away into the forest every day, but it felt like an eternity since Owen had last ventured out. Unless his sense of time was completely off, he'd missed several visits from Louis at least. Hopefully Louis wouldn't be so worried as to draw attention to Owen's absence despite the risks.
If anyone from Oakhurst found out that Louis had been neglecting his patrol duties to pretend to be human, there would be punishment and stricter orders. That much Louis certainly knew already, but what Louis probably didn't realize was that if they found out that Louis had been pretending to be human with Owen, Louis would be lucky if he wasn't sold on and replaced. He would certainly never be allowed to speak to Owen again, much less to hold Owen close and brush his clawed fingers so gently through Owen's tangled curls.
Putting aside his worries, Owen carefully made his way to the box where he kept his food up away from insects and vermin, digging out his last piece of smoked venison and nibbling at it slowly until it was gone. Then he washed it down with a bit of lukewarm water and took a few more steps. The meager meal was enough to fend off the worst of the dizziness, which was good because there wasn't anything more. The pain lingered, every movement pulling at his tight bandages, but there wasn't much that Owen could do about that, and if he let pain stop him, he'd have been dead a long time ago.
Gathering up his axe, Owen made his way out of the ramshackle cabin he called his home. He latched the door to keep animals out, but there was no lock. His axe was the most expensive thing he owned and it never left his sight. Step by step, Owen slowly made his way through the familiar trees to the edge of the clearing where he always met Louis, doing his best to conserve his energy for the work ahead.
"Owen!"
Owen nearly flinched. The sound of his name called out so fiercely had never meant anything good before. But now... he lifted his gaze from the forest floor to see Louis running toward him, the skirt of his simple dress hiked up and golden eyes alight.
"Louis!" Owen called out, stopping in his tracks and bracing himself.
Just as he expected, Louis didn't bother to stop, barreling straight into Owen and letting his skirt fall in favor of wrapping his arms around Owen's shoulders and tugging downward. Owen's breath caught at the new pressure across his aching shoulders, but he did his best to hide it. He appreciated the affectionate gesture and didn't want to risk Louis knowing just how much it hurt. Letting out a long, slow breath, Owen bent his head to allow Louis to nuzzle against his cheeks and press a soft kiss to his forehead.
"I missed you, Owen," Louis breathed out, sounding like he might burst into tears. "I was worried you weren't coming back!"
Cheeks pink from the affection he still wasn't used to, Owen wrapped his own arms around Louis, leaning in to nuzzle into Louis's hair. "I'm sorry. It was just a few bad days. I didn't mean to scare you."
"A few!?" Louis pulled away, eyes fierce as he looked Owen up and down. "It's been a week. I thought- I was so scared for you. You're feeling better now?"
"I'm fine, Louis!" Owen scowled. He tried not to worry Louis about his health, but if it truly had been a week, or even more given that he'd first fallen ill the day after meeting Louis, there wasn't much he could do about it. Even though Owen was feeling a great deal better, if somewhat weak and dizzy after doing nothing but lay in bed for days, the fatigue and the pain of fresh wounds across his skin hadn't subsided fully yet. But if he didn't work, he didn't eat. Fatigue and pain were things he'd learned to work through as much as possible. He would just have to put on a good show now to soothe any lingering worries Louis might have. "I really am. I'm ready to get back to work."
Louis frowned, but stepped back. "You always work so hard. Don't you need to rest too?"
Owen made the mistake of meeting Louis's eyes, too large for his face and such a brilliant gold that looking directly into them felt like staring into the sun. They seemed to glow more than usual, pupils dilating with his genuine concern.
"I did rest," Owen reminded Louis, unable to be upset with the concern no matter how he tried. It was nice to have someone concerned about him for once, rather than merely disgusted or annoyed by his existence. "I've been resting the past few days, and I'll rest again once I finish my work. I promise, Louis." He hesitantly lifted his hand to caress Louis's cheek, the skin smooth and firm like a polished stone beneath his fingers, despite its soft appearance. "If you want to speed things up, you could always tell me another one of your stories."
Louis nuzzled into the touch, and Owen could feel the sudden vibrations of the strange crooning noise Louis often made when he was happy. It resembled a cat's purring, but deeper and smoother. Louis really was terrible at pretending to be human, even if the silver rune-marked collar around his neck and his slightly pointed ears hadn’t given it away from the start. Not that Owen minded, closing his eyes and enjoying the way the crooning sent warmth up his arm and through his body, easing the aches in his joints. If it hadn't been so obvious that Louis wasn't human, Owen might have never given him the chance to prove that he wasn't as cruel and hateful as every other human Owen had ever met.
"Finish your work," Louis urged. "Then you can rest with me."
Owen nodded in agreement, taking a reluctant step back. He waited for Louis to settle down at the base of a tree to draw his axe, and then, to the flowing rhythm of Louis's lilting voice painting a fairy tale picture of far away places where dragons flew freely, Owen went to work. He kept his pace steady, doing his best not to push himself too hard, but the sun seemed to burn hotter than usual, every movement a work of painful effort, and it wasn't long before fatigue began to drag him down. When Owen felt the world begin to spin around him, his vision blurring and his face burning, he knew he'd gone too far. Owen tossed his axe aside to avoid hurting himself as he crumpled to the ground. He felt distant, separate, hearing Louis call his name so desperately as though he was underwater and hating that there was nothing he could do to ease Louis's fear.
"Owen?" Louis was hovering over him, hands turning him over and drawing pained whimpers from him as they pressed against hidden lesions, fingers petting his cheeks. "Owen? Please, are you alright?"
Louis had never seen him like this before. Owen had done his best to hide the worst of his illness from Louis, both because he feared that Louis might consider helping him worth the risk of asking for that help from the village and because he never wanted to be the reason that bright Louis was sad. Only now there was nothing he could do to hide. He could barely move, the warmth a heavy weight flowing down through his body, burning against his bandaged sores. The dizziness wasn't new, but this strange painful heat was completely unknown, and it scared Owen. Was this what dying felt like? Had he finally pushed himself so hard that there was no recovering?
"Sorry, Louis," Owen gasped out. "L-love you."
The stuttered words were all he could manage as the darkness claimed him entirely. If this was how he died, he only hoped that Louis could forgive him.
"OWEN!!" Louis wailed as Owen's eyes shut, his body going limp in Louis's arms.
The quiet confession only fueled Louis's terror. Owen wasn't the type to voice his feelings. He showed his affection with little gifts and gentle mockery, with the light in his eyes and the way his cheeks lit up so brightly whenever Louis complimented him. For Owen to voice his love so clearly like that, so soft and desperate, it meant something was very wrong.
"Owen, love?" Louis bent over Owen, claws tangling in the rough fabric of Owen's shirt as he nuzzled his nose against the crook of Owen's neck where he could still feel the slow beating of Owen's heart. "Please wake up? Please?"
He could feel the weakened rise and fall of Owen's chest and the soft flow of air through Owen's lips. It wasn't enough, barely there like it would take nothing but a gentle touch to put a stop to his breathing entirely. Owen needed help. If Louis didn't do something fast, he might lose Owen forever and he wasn't ready for that yet. Humans never lived for very long, but he'd barely had the chance to get to know Owen. It wasn't enough.
Unfortunately the only help that Louis could get for Owen was back in the town proper.
Louis wasn't meant to be out here in the forest so often. If anyone realized that he'd been slipping away, Louis would certainly be commanded to keep to his schedule instead of being trusted to obedience as he had been. After all, he belonged to the town. It was his duty to protect the town, to keep it safe and to serve its people however he could, not to slip away into the forest to laugh and smile and pretend for a brief moment that he was human and free. Was it any wonder that all of his masters before Oakhurst had been so strict, if this was how Louis abused the town's generosity?
Because Louis wasn't human, nor was he free, and stealing away as he had was an infraction that would not be easily forgiven.
Not to mention what Owen would think if he realized that Louis wasn't the carefree human he'd been pretending to be for so long. Would Owen hate him? Would Owen ever be able to trust him again? Louis had hoped one day to be able to trust Owen with the truth, to give up his secrets willingly in a way that wouldn't drive Owen away, but there would be no chance for that now.
Louis shook his head, brushing his nose gently against Owen's with a heartbroken whimper.
It didn't matter. Maybe Owen would hate him once the truth was out. Maybe Louis would never even have the chance to find out how Owen felt. Louis would accept whatever consequences came his way because nothing mattered but Owen's life.
Casting away his fears and his doubts for the simple truth that Owen might not survive if Louis didn't do something, Louis gently laid Owen down on the ground. Taking a step back, Louis yanked his dress off over his head, dropping it on top of Owen - best to not risk increasing his punishment by damaging the town's property unnecessarily - and then he closed his eyes and released the tight hold he had on his flame where it was curled up tight in his chest. Louis shuddered in relief as his true form was allowed to resurface.
Cream and gold and bloody crimson wings stretched up to the sky, his limbs lengthening as his body stretched and his claws sharpened, the warmth of his flame once more flowing through his entire body, from the curve of his long scaled muzzle, down his gold and crimson mane, to the fluffy crimson tip of his tail. It didn't hurt to keep his flame confined as he took on the human shape that Oakhurst and his latest master seemed to prefer, but this was the form that felt the most natural, the form he'd been born in.
Louis bowed his head and forelegs, spreading his wings wide as he stretched. Then he gathered Owen up as gently as he could manage with his forelegs, using the dress to help protect Owen from his claws. Carefully cradling Owen's long and lanky body to his chest, Louis launched himself up into the air with a harsh flap of his wings, another flap taking him above the trees where he was able to dart back to Oakhurst as fast as he dared with such precious cargo.
He could hear the cries already, fear and surprise, as he circled the village proper and landed in the town square with a loud roar, still cradling Owen tightly to his chest with one foreleg. With as much care as he could muster, Louis laid Owen out on the ground and pulled his flame back in so quickly that the shifting hurt and left him crouched on all fours over Owen.
"Help him!" Louis called as soon as his mouth was capable of forming the words, pulling his dress back on as he did. He didn't want any time to be wasted with the scolding he was sure to receive if he remained naked. "Please! He collapsed in the woods. He needs help!"
The rush of voices from the crowd that had gathered around the town square made Louis's ears twitch, unable to pick out any single words from the cacophony. He looked around from where he knelt over Owen and all he saw was wariness and distaste. A few were curious, others looked angry, but no one seemed to care that he was begging for help. Not a single person stepped past the edge of the invisible circle they'd formed around Louis and Owen.
Louis knew there were healers in town. He could even see one of them staring at Owen. He stepped around Owen, reaching out one hand toward the healer. "Please? Won't you help him?"
The healer just scoffed and spat on the ground. "No one can help that one."
"Isn't he one of yours?" Louis asked, voice cracking slightly as fear and confusion tangled in his chest. He'd expected anger or annoyance at himself, but hardly anyone seemed to be looking at Louis. They were all eyeing Owen as though he was some sort of dangerous animal, even so clearly unconscious on the stone pavement.
Was this why Owen so rarely came into town? Why he always just shook his head at Louis's questions about why he lived so far away from the safety of the town walls?
"Lara!"
The harsh sound of his official name had Louis straightening automatically even as he tensed for the pain of punishment. When his collar didn't begin to warm, Louis relaxed slightly. The man dressed all in black who had called his name and who was now making his way through the crowd was only the town pastor. While there were certain commands keyed to the collar that could be given by any of the townsfolk, the only person who could trigger the collar manually was the town mayor, Louis's current master.
"What were you thinking, bringing that one into the town?" Pastor Adair scowled at Louis.
The sheer vehemence in the man's voice startled Louis, but he hurried to try and explain. "I found him in the woods. He collapsed. I thought- I was charged with protecting the people of Oakhurst..." Louis's voice trailed off as the pastor's glare sharpened.
"He's incurable," the pastor explained coldly. "There is no help for him. If the gods are willing, he will die without spreading his curse to the rest of us. And you, bringing his curse into the center of town? I will be speaking to Arthur about this. Clearly he's been far too lenient with you."
Louis could hardly breathe at the sheer callousness of the man, so sure and glad of Owen's impending death that he wouldn't even try to help Owen. The worst part was that the crowd seemed to agree as Louis looked around at them in shock, some of them holding up their hands in signs to ward off evil, others murmuring their quiet agreement, and only a few that even had the decency to look away in shame.
These were his people. Louis had watched over this village for nearly five years, since he'd first been purchased from his previous master. He'd done his best to be everything they needed him to be, because that was his purpose. He was a dragon, made to serve, and he enjoyed making people happy. Punishments were rare because Louis obeyed perfectly, and he'd been so grateful that this town had seemed to appreciate his obedience more than any masters he'd known before. They'd been kind to him, often repaying his services with pats or little sweet treats that were entirely unnecessary, but welcome nonetheless.
Louis had believed Oakhurst to be a kind town full of kind people.
Louis had been so very wrong.
For the first time, Louis truly understood the way Owen had been so hesitant to trust him. The way Owen had taken so long to allow Louis close, much less to touch him. Louis had thought it might just have been a quirk of his personality, stubborn and wary, and it was certainly better to be wary than overly trusting when you lived out in the forest among the beasts and the Fae. Louis had taken great pride in slowly wearing Owen down, earning more of his trust with every passing day. Not once had Owen mentioned that the village was so unwelcoming, or that he had no choice in living outside of the walls. Looking down at where Owen laid so still, Louis felt a rush of grief and pride. The mere fact that Owen had survived this long alone and sickly, working so hard to support himself...It was awe inspiring that he'd managed it, while also heartbreaking that he'd not had any other options.
"You won't even try?" Louis's voice cracked as he pleaded with the pastor. Rage and grief and a bone-deep hurt thrashed in his flame, and it was all he could do to force his flame down and try to keep his form stable.
"There is nothing left to try," the pastor snapped. "He can't be help-"
"What's wrong with him?"
Louis lifted his gaze as the crowd grew silent, parting to allow a man to step forward through to the center, while the pastor turned and glared. This new man was tall and broad-shouldered, with salt and pepper hair cut short and a deep scar across his face. Each step was purposeful, the faintest hint of a limp to his gait. Louis sniffed at the air. This man wasn't one of his, his scent strange and foreign beneath the smell of medicinal herbs. It made Louis nervous. He wasn't usually allowed to interact with outsiders unless they were violent and the town needed defending, but if the man would help Owen, Louis didn't care who he was or where he came from.
"What's wrong with him?" The man repeated, coming to a stop in front of Owen and eyeing Louis warily. "I can't help if I don't know what I'm treating."
Louis scooted back from Owen to allow the man space to examine him. "He just collapsed," Louis explained in a rush. Then he hesitated. So far, everything he'd done and said could be construed as his having seen Owen collapse in passing. He might not be punished too harshly for it. But the doctor needed to know it wasn't just a single incident. Quietly, Louis added, "He was sick for at least a week before today. I don't- Owen didn't tell me exactly what was wrong. But he came out to work today and he seemed fine. He said he was fine, and then he just crumpled. There was no warning."
"He's cursed, Doctor! You can't-"
"Then it's a good thing I don't believe in curses," the doctor snapped.
Louis shivered, knowing he would pay for the outsider's disrespect, but he stayed silent. He would take any punishment if it meant Owen got help.
Thankfully the outburst only distracted the doctor for a moment, and he was quickly kneeling at Owen's side. He pressed the back of his hand to Owen's forehead. Then he lifted Owen's arm, fingers curling around Owen's bony wrist, silently mouthing something for a moment. Once he finished there, the doctor brushed his finger along the bandages.
"Is he wounded?"
Louis shook his head. "His illness," he said softly. "It affects his skin."
"I'll need to remove the bandages." Louis stiffened and the man noticed. "He has a fever. It may be infection if he has any open sores, but I won't be able to treat it without seeing it for myself."
"Not out here. Please?" The man made a good point and he seemed to truly want to help, but Owen barely allowed Louis to touch him over the bandages. He'd hate being so exposed in front of these people who already treated him like a monster to be warded off.
"I have a room at the inn," the man offered, straightening and meeting Louis's gaze firmly. "Do you mind if I carry him?"
Louis blinked a little in confusion, but quickly nodded. He didn't understand why any human would need permission from him for anything, but if the man was willing, Louis wasn't going to protest. Not only could the doctor not be compelled to drop Owen either by command or the triggering of a punishment, the man was nearly as tall as Owen and a great deal broader. He would be far more capable of carrying Owen gently than Louis's much shorter human form. Once granted permission, the doctor easily scooped Owen up across his arms. There was no hesitation in the movement, even knowing that Owen was sick and marked.
"Come."
Louis didn't hesitate to obey, hunching his shoulders as he hovered behind the doctor, hoping to avoid anyone summoning him away.
"Lara!"
Louis froze at the pastor's command, swallowing hard and glancing back over his shoulder. He was already in so much trouble. It was foolish to not simply obey, with Owen safely in the doctor's care, but Louis hated the thought of not even getting to say goodbye.
"I need her help," the doctor snapped. "And I need to make sure she hasn't caught whatever's wrong with this one."
Louis looked back at the doctor, eyes wide. He'd been interacting with Owen on and off for months now. Surely he would have caught whatever was wrong with Owen by now if he was going to. The doctor just met his gaze, a strange sort of pity etched in one of his green eyes. It made something in Louis's flame flicker with a quiet hope. When the doctor looked away and continued on, Louis hurried to stay close, eager to stay with Owen and put off his punishment a little longer.
"Now see here!" Most of the crowd parted to escape being in close proximity to Owen, but one woman stood her ground, arms crossed as she blocked the entrance to the inn. Widow Hartford, a woman who Louis had always enjoyed serving due to the sweet baked goods she often snuck him under the table. "You'll not be bringing that creature into my inn."
"Would you rather I treat him here?" the doctor all but growled. "On your doorstep where he might infect anyone who so much as walks past your establishment?"
Widow Hartford hesitated, taking one step back.
The doctor took advantage of her reaction and pushed past her. Louis followed timidly, ducking his head to avoid drawing attention to himself as best he could manage.
"Straight to your room and I won't have you traipsing in and out!"
The doctor acted like he didn't hear her, making his way to the end of the hall where he tilted his head toward the last door. "Would you get the door?"
Louis nodded, hurrying forward to open the door. He held it open as the doctor carried Owen in and laid him across the neatly made bed that took up most of the small room across from the small fireplace where the fire had been reduced to faintly glowing embers. Even in this, the doctor remained gentle and Louis couldn't help the wistful curl of grief that this outsider was being so kind to Owen where not a single one of his own people could offer so much as a kind word.