Chapter Text
It takes him two weeks to settle into the new environment half decently. Not that he lets his discomfort show as he slowly gets used to the weather, the city, the people and the new day to day life. But it’s not home and it won’t ever be.
Still the city feels foreign to him. Slade is one of the few things Jason is actually comfortable being around. He does see some of the knights almost daily and adjusts to their presence in his life. Roy and him become fast friends, and he enjoys the rivalry Kyle keeps up with him, but the more Jason gets to know Matthew the more he unnerves him and Tiger is fine to be around, but there’s no mutual interest.
Not like there is with Slade.
He’s not sure where it’s coming from or where it might end up, but he’s enjoying it thoroughly. It makes his fingers tingle and plasters an amused grin on his face way too often. Usually, he decides who can win him over himself. This time, it feels completely out of his control.
Every morning, Slade picks him up at breakfast and they spend some time in the training yard. On some days, they continue to spend the whole day there, on others, they go into the city and visit the tavern again. On the few evenings Slade visits his dragon, he accompanies Jason to the city gates first and Jason rides out towards the forest to see Ny.
After the first time, Jason insists that he can find his own way from the castle to the gates, but Slade drops him off and later waits for him at the gate regardless. And Jason likes spending time with him enough that he isn’t interested in arguing himself out of it.
Being around Slade all day quickly changes from feeling like a chore, after it wasn’t his own idea anymore, to something he’s glad to do.
And once those first two weeks in King’s Landing pass, Jason finally begins to find rest during the nights.
In general, his sleep is light and easily disturbed, but it usually comes to him effortlessly enough and sticks until morning. Unless something unfamiliar catches his attention. At the beginning of his stay here, all kinds of things did. The unfamiliar light beddings, the sounds of the castle, the breeze on his skin because here he can keep a window open without freezing to death even in spring, the ocean when particularly high waves crash against the foot of the cliff.
Now, he’s finally used to these things and his nights stop being restless.
Or so he thought, when strange sounding winds wake him.
He blinks to awareness, exhausted as if he was pulled out of a nap, indicating that it can’t be far into the night. The deep black surrounding him slowly gives way to dark blue shapes and shadows. As his eyes get used to the nighttime, his hearing tries to solve the puzzle of why the wind sounds strange to him. Knowing what is out of place would put him at ease faster and more comfortably than simply getting used to the oddity.
It’s a slightly windy night, the white curtains in front of the windows and balcony move in the breeze, but it’s not windy enough to make the air hiss and howl when it whips around corners and through gaps. The source of the sounds is not that close to him either, it’s beyond the boundary of his quarters. But it sounds familiar. Familiar enough that a thundering rumble has Jason throw back his blanket and get on his feet so fast, he stubs his toe at the leg of his bed.
He curses and hurries to the balcony, forgetting to put on a coat over his thin garments despite the cool temperatures in the middle of the night. Therefore, the chills making his whole body shiver might not be solely caused by the massive black dragon diving a dozen yards in front of his balcony towards the sea.
Myra is a shadow gliding across the waves and covering the stars in the sky on a moonless night. Jason watches her, follows the shadow with his eyes, goosebumps covering his arms. He hasn’t seen her since they got to the city.
Perhaps, he’s purely projecting his own desire for freedom onto her, but it looks like she’s dancing between the sea and the sky, celebrating that everything in between is hers. Only when she flies towards the castle and comes closer than he would think possible, does he see her golden eyes. Right before she has to turn a sharp corner to not actually hit a tower, he notices that her eyes are on him. His heart misses a beat before the deep rumbling echoing across the sea makes it hammer in his chest.
Watching a dragon dance is mesmerizing.
The next time Myra swerves close to the Red Keep she’s leisurely gliding through the air. Slow enough, that he not only spots Slade on her back but also sees him laughing. From this distance he can’t tell if he’s just imaging it or if he actually catches Slade’s eye.
The winds quiet down as Myra pulls away from the castle and circles up a little and pick up again when she glides down with her wings folded near her body. She soars by his balcony and Slade throws something right past him.
She rumbles one last time and takes off into the sky. Jason continues to watch with enamored fascination until she disappears behind the castle walls.
Only then, can he bring himself to step away from the railing of his balcony with a sigh. Finally noticing how chilly the night has become, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and quickly looks around to find what Slade threw onto the balcony. It’s a plain looking bag. He picks it up and retreats back into his room, this time careful not to run into anything.
Once he sets the bag down on the table, he pulls it open unceremoniously and empties it out. It can’t be anything fragile the way Slade threw it.
The night is too dark to see details, but the shapes look like clothes and it feels like they are mostly made of leather. It’s smooth and firm, only pliable as long as you bend it in a way it was meant to be bend. He finds a note that’s barely readable without at least a candle, but Jason can’t be bothered right now, so he does his best, squinting at the words. There are only a few anyway.
It’s a gift. Wear it tomorrow.
Oh?
If Slade was here, he could remark that they’re not at a stage in their nonexistent relationship where they gift clothes to each other. But he’s not, so Jason can’t scratch the itch that’s caused by the unanswered questions he has bouncing around in his head. He can’t do anything but wait and wonder.
And hopefully sleep. His heart is still beating faster than it should when he pulls the blankets up to his chin again. He knows what the noises were, dragon wings, but now he can’t wait for tomorrow. He’s not sure why he’s as thrilled as he is, but it takes him a while to find rest again.
Despite that, he has no problem getting up in the morning. Anticipation courses through him and drives him to take a closer look at the clothes Slade gave him as soon as he remembers what happened last night.
Spread out on his table are pants and a couple shirts and vests. They’re double layered, with good, comfortable material on the inside and covered in sturdy leather on the outside. The clothes are mostly black or in other dark colors and don’t fit into King’s Landing’s fashion at all.
They’re clothes that look like they could belong to Slade.
Clothes that he wears quite often but specifically always on days he goes to ride Myra. Clothes that are also similar, if less colorful, to what the King’s family wears when they’re on dragonback.
Jason bites his lip and runs a hand over the impeccable material, considering if he should do what Slade asked him to do. Most people wouldn’t notice a difference between the Wayne’s and Slade’s style, but Bruce absolutely will. He’ll come to several possible conclusions, same as Jason does now, but he doesn’t know how much of a logical jump any of these would be.
Jason can’t be sure of Slade’s intention, and he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but Bruce might ask him the same questions.
Fuck it.
If he’s right, he doesn’t care wether Bruce approves.
He slips into the pants and pulls the shirt over his head. When he fastens the vest at his side, he’s surprised by how well the clothes fit. He kind of assumed that Slade just lent him some of his own clothes. No. Gifted.
But how did he know how to adjust the size of the clothes properly? Because, while Slade and him have a similar figure, both built with muscle and comparatively slim waists, his shoulders aren’t as broad as Slade’s, his thighs not quite as thick and Jason is, unfortunately, not quite as tall as him.
Belatedly, he curses his brain for not only noticing all that but also deeming the information important enough to remember it without him even realizing.
Even more unsettling are the knife clasps and hiding spots worked into the clothes that are too similar to his own. Slade knows where he keeps all of his knives. Heavens.
The clothes aren’t adorned with wolf nor with dragon motives, so he can’t tell who they were made for. But they feel and look new.
He fastens his belt over the vest, hides his knives, takes his sword and braces himself for breakfast.
There’s no set time for it. Both the Waynes and the Els come eat on the balcony next to Bruce’s quarters any time between sunrise and early noon. Bruce and Damian are usually the earliest, followed by Kal and Jason. Bruce can’t afford to wait until everyone else is done, too focused on his tasks, but Damian always waits for Jon because they spend every day together.
Even Slade often joins them to eat because he comes by to get Jason for the day anyway.
Today, Jason is unlucky. The only ones there are Bruce, Damian and Kal.
Of course, they immediately notice that the clothes he’s wearing aren’t his.
“Don’t ask. I don’t know either,” he shrugs and helps himself to some of the bread, spread and fruits. There are so many damn fruits in King’s Landing it’s ridiculous, and he’s enjoying trying them one by one. Though he’s used to richer tastes. Even the bread tastes sweeter here than it does at home.
He sits down next to Damian and ignores Bruce scrutinizing his clothes. Eventually, Bruce looks like he’s resigning himself to an especially unpleasant thought.
“Just be careful,” Bruce says gravely.
Jason rolls his eyes at Bruce, not only because he thinks Bruce is being overly dramatic but also because he doesn’t have to remind him.
“I know how to take care of myself,” he assures, yet again.
“That’s why it’s so infuriating when you forget to or simply choose not to,” Bruce sighs.
“I don’t like seeing you worry either,” Jason says honestly.
“That’s something fathers can’t help,” Kal smiles kindly, a certain kind of defeated amusement lifting the corners of his eyes.
Jason likes the King. He really does. Kal possesses a different kind of strength than Jason, his father or brothers have. Richard might come the closest. And in a way, Jason admires how understanding and forgiving Kal is. Even though he really shouldn’t be able to afford keeping his kindness and faith as the King. It’s contradictory to Jason’s whole life’s experience.
But evidently, Kal makes it work. Maybe the unique constitution Slade spoke of makes it possible. Or he’s surrounding himself with a lot of good and powerful people who support and protect his way of thinking.
Either way, it’s not something Jason wants, or can have, for himself.
He’s happy to antagonize some people, he’s more than fine with rubbing others the wrong way and he’s okay with not caring at all sometimes. Jason’s aware that he’s not exactly a well rounded person himself and he’s fine with that, too. Even with people he likes, he’s happy to push and pull them around a little. For fun, to test them or to get a read on their personality. Sometimes he can’t help it, even if the other person doesn’t play the same game. But if they do match him, he enjoys getting a little nasty with it.
That’s something Kal wouldn’t enjoy, nor could he afford to do it. Slade is his complete opposite in that and, thus, a perfect match for Jason. In a way.
So at first, Jason thought that someone like Kal wouldn’t like him, would probably even look down on him, but he never did. Then, he thought that maybe it’s a weakness. Maybe, he just doesn’t show honest displeasure because he doesn’t want to rub anyone the wrong way, even someone relatively unimportant like Jason. But soon, he realized that Kal does in fact like him, for whatever reason, and Jason admires him a little bit for that.
Now, when Kal says something that sounds placating, he knows that Kal isn’t trying to appease him but is saying something he genuinely believes.
And Bruce brought up that exact same point about worrying parents often enough.
Jason sighs and nods, “I know.”
Bruce and him once had a fight about this, even though they both just cared about protecting the other. Bruce wouldn’t budge from Be careful, I worry and Jason wanted to convince him that he needs to worry less and let Jason care for himself. It ended when Bruce said I won’t risk losing a son. Jason felt his soul shatter and since then they never took the argument that far again.
But they bring it up from time to time to remind each other of their respective worries. Maybe it’s not fair, but Jason can’t help it. It sets him at ease a little.
So he leaves it at the one comment and feels a little better and knows his father does, too.
Slade appears at breakfast not long after Jason. He ignores the sour look Bruce gives him and the curious looks of Kal and Damian and simply sits down to enjoy his food.
Jason busies himself by chatting with Damian until Slade is done and they leave for their morning training.
“So what’s with the clothes?”, Jason asks once they’re on the stairs.
“You have to ask?”
Jason shrugs and does his best to suppress his grin.
“Ah,” Slade nods in understanding. “Let me set your mind at ease then: You’re not wrong in your assumption.”
Saying that he isn’t at all distracted during the training would be a lie, but he does his best to set the excitement of seeing the dragons aside. Nevertheless, he’s going to wake up with a couple bruises that would’ve been avoidable tomorrow.
This time, when they get the horses and ride through the city, Slade doesn’t lead him down the street until they reach the gates. He turns right and, immediately, Jason can see the dragonpit towering between and above the rooftops in front of them. It’s a giant building located on one of the hills King’s Landing is build on and visible from everywhere in King’s Landing.
The main street they’re on ends directly in front of the long flight of stairs leading up to the massive entrance of the building. Jason barely gets a chance to try to take in the sheer size of this structure and estimate the number of steps in front of them when Slade gets his horse moving again. He ignores the stairs and points towards a small path leading up and around the hill.
“We’re not using the front doors?”, Jason asks, following Slade onto the path. Nobody else seems to be using it, perhaps because it is easily overlooked and unassuming.
“They’re impressive to see up close, but I don’t want to bother with the formalities.” Slade turns to look back at Jason. “And I don’t have to.”
“Of course,” Jason snorts.
The path is narrow enough that Jason has to trail behind Slade. It winds up alongside the hill which is surprisingly green and probably not visible from the nearby houses. Jason suspects that there are more trees here than in the rest of King’s Landing combined. Apart from this hill, the city is made up almost entirely of sand and stone and yellow and red with lone trees or bushes fighting through cracks in the streets. He even sees birds other than the pigeons and sparrows that are all over the city.
The distraction keeps his anticipation in check. At least until the path widens into a flat square and the hill’s vegetation gives way to a giant light-swallowing cave entrance. There’s a small stable at the far end of the open space and they entrust their horses to the stable boys. No horse will willingly approach the cave.
They walk across the square towards the entrance and the closer they get the bigger and more imposing it seems. Jason knows even Myra must fit through, but he won’t quite believe it until he sees it.
An old man dressed in rugged and durable garb greets them curtly before he gives Jason a hard look. He’s leaning some of his weight on a long wooden rod and his expression looks as headstrong as you would expect from someone who’s been around dragons for decades.
“Only members of the King’s family or House Kane are allowed access.”
“He’s with me,” Slade declares, as if him saying that holds all the weight he needs. As if the man couldn’t already see that and as if his words are forfeit, now that Slade has disagreed with them.
“It is unwise to let an outsider near the dragons,” the man tries once more.
“Mm-hmm,” Slade hums dismissively before he chooses to ignore him and simply walks past him towards the cave. Jason gives the man, whose expression darkened considerably, a nod and catches up to Slade.
“So I’m breaking some kind of taboo, huh? Fun,” Jason quips.
“More than you know.”
“You’re serious?”, he asks, now more astounded than joking.
He can’t deny, though, that Slade’s confirmation pleases him. Jason accompanies him with a grin towards the entrance. He thoroughly enjoys the confusion it adds to the faces of the other men they come across, who are already skeptical of his presence, when they’ve barely entered the caves.
“What’s with the sticks?” They’re all holding one.
“They use them to be able to guide dragons while still keeping their distance. Because they’re outsiders, too,” Slade scoffs.
If even Slade disapproves of outsiders being here and if it’s such a taboo to the people who look after the dragons, it’s no wonder it feels like a novelty.
The light from the entrance disappears quickly and soon he can barely see in the darkness of the caves.
He’s steady enough on his feet and naturally orients himself to Slade walking next to him. He forgets to ask what the hell he’s thinking coming here without torches. And then, he sees a fireball puff up and dissolve at the ceiling in the distance, lighting up giant caverns ahead of them. He loses focus on Slade for a second, but Slade seems to know and catches his attention by tapping him on the arm before he continues on.
Jason caught only a glimpse, but he thinks the dragon that breathed fire was blue so he isn’t surprised when Slade wanders off towards a different part of the caverns. It’s a ways off the main tunnel, but the hollowed out space around Jason feels massive. This specific cave Slade led them to seems darker than black.
Jason feels the itch in his fingers before Myra’s eyes open in front of them.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Jason breathes, in awe at how her golden eyes amplify the minuscule amount of light invisible to him. He almost wants to step closer by himself. Her eyes are so intelligent and warm and inviting that Jason forgets about his rightful cautiousness of dragons, but he would never get between a rider and his dragon.
“She missed you,” Slade says casually and steps next to her head, running a hand over the scales on her neck.
Jason can barely see him, only outlined by the golden hue her eyes cast on him.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he whispers, still in awe of them, but dares to step close and slowly place a hand between her nostrils. Warmth floods through him and makes him shudder, something deep in his core uncurls in relief, as it always does.
It may be futile to hope that Slade won’t pay attention at the wrong moment and not notice how deeply some things affect Jason. Or that he’ll forget because he doesn’t care. Nevertheless, Jason hopes. But never for the latter.
He glances at Slade and, once again, he’s watching Jason with a look more curious than Jason can comprehend.
Surely, he’s not the only one Slade ever impressed with Myra. Surely, he’s not the only who ever got so close to her or showed as much fascination. Surely, people of higher standing have shown interest in him and at least some of them must’ve waited to make a move. Jason has seen, experienced and learned much more than people his age usually have, but, surely, Slade must’ve seen everything that might catch his attention and curiosity long ago.
Slade tilts his head at Jason’s thoughtful silence.
“What’s with dragons and riders and their obsession with darkness?”, Jason asks and continues to watch the golden barely-there shimmer on his hand and her scales.
“That’s just us. You chose the wrong duo,” Slade shrugs. “As a shadow hidden in the dark, she’s in her element, and I can see just fine down here.”
“Thanks for your lack of consideration and the torch you so graciously didn’t offer me then, asshole,” Jason remarks.
He’s not even sure if the grin he sees in the corner of Slade’s mouth is just a shadow or actually there.
Myra huffs quietly and moves her head a little, and Jason can’t help but think of the fireball he saw on their way here. It would engulf him from head to toe. And yet, he isn’t scared of her, of a nasty whim of hers that could burn him alive.
She purrs quietly and Jason feels as comfortable and at ease as if he was caressing a cat between the ears.
Slade snorts. “Let’s go outside,” he says, patting her neck once more.
Jason sees and hears the darkness shift when Myra gets up on her legs and sets the knuckles of her wings down on the ground. She keeps her neck low, eyes just a bit above him, and nudges him into the direction they came from.
Jason is still reeling from the intensity she has about her that makes him shiver and how it’s balanced out by the feeling of shelter she emits, and the anticipation of his first flight.