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Chapter Text

Despite the centuries long friendship between House Wayne and House El, Dragons are a rare sight above Winterfell. Not so much that Jason doesn’t recognize the roars that roll like thunder over the lands and into the forest, but rare enough that, when he leaves the trees behind him and the dragons become visible in the sky, he’s surprised to make out four still rather small shapes between the clouds. 

Dragons flying towards Winterfell are usually seen only once or twice a year. Kal El likes to visit the north and, since his sons became apt at flying, they come along more often than not to visit their friends, Jason’s younger brothers. 

He’s familiar with the three blue shapes that almost disappear against the color os the sky. But in the twenty-three years he’s been alive, he can count the number of times he’s seen the other, the black dragon, on one hand. And it’s been so long since its last visit, he was too young to remember much. 

His hunting companions gather around him, watching the dragons as well. Though they’re merely indistinct shapes, easily mistaken for birds from this distance, the people of Winterfell are passingly familiar with the King’s beasts and how they move through the sky differs from birds. 

“Do you want to return to the castle, milord?” 

“Yes. We were successful enough,” Jason decides. 

He barely spares their prey a glance before his eyes find the dragons again. They swiftly become bigger and seemingly even faster as they approach. He wants to get back home quickly. 

The hunters went out far his morning. The edge of the forest to the east is at least an hour’s ride on horseback along the hills away from the castle. But it’s his favorite stretch of land around Winterfell that can be reached within a few hours. Jason sets out on the road in a calm trot, a pace that’s no problem for the horses even with the additional weight they’re dragging now. 

If he’s judging the distances and speeds correctly, the dragons will arrive before them. But he’s fine with missing the welcoming of the King’s family, as long as he still gets to see the dragons before they’re brought away to rest in the caves. It’s been months since he’s seen them and he missed the sight. 

Jason can’t take his eyes off of them. Slowly, he can make out sizes and shapes and colors. As expected, he sees the giant, stormy blue dragon of Kal El in detail first and Jon’s small, sunny sky blue dragon last. They’ve visited Winterfell a couple dozen times over the past few years and he’s seen them up close a number of times. Kon’s silver blue beauty is the second smallest and also a dragon Jason is familiar with from multiple visits. They’re gorgeous creatures. 

The fourth one, however, he only has very vague memories of. It’s been years since the black giant has been to the north. It’s flying a fair distance behind the other three, which makes it hard to compare sizes, but Jason judges it to be about the same size as Kal’s dragon. And Kal’s dragon can easily overlook the castle of Winterfell.  

He knows the rider’s name. Slade of House Kane. He knows that he sometimes works for the Els and sometimes notoriously doesn’t. But he has no clear memory of ever meeting him, only vague snippets of what might’ve been unimpressed looks, rough hands and a deep voice perhaps. 

Jason watches in wonder as the otherworldly creatures slide through the skies and along the winds. The closer they get to the castle, the more evident their beauty becomes. He’s always seen himself as more of an appreciator of poetic than aesthetic beauty, but dragons were his exception to the rule since he could remember. 

The dragons circle around the castle a few times before landing outside the walls. Jason is close enough to feel the earth shake when the giants set foot on the ground. It causes that deep, instinctual rumbling in his chest that he’ll never grow tired of. 

He can barely see the humans from this distance but is surprised to notice two figures getting off the blue giant’s back. If it is the Queen that joined the rest of her family in their journey north, it would mark the first time that all Els left King’s Landing after Kal’s coronation. 

And as far as he knows, the visit is unannounced.

That implies a prospect he doesn’t like to consider at all. Especially, when he gets close and sees Bruce hurrying away with Kal to talk in private without the usual family greetings, and that it is indeed the Queen that flew with the King. 

Dick, as Bruce’s heir, is already leading her through the gates to the city when he arrives. Alfred just finished telling Damian and Tim where their respective friend will be staying and reminds them of the feast they’ll be having tonight before he lets them go. The boys disappear quickly, but it’s obvious that the Princes’ somber mood reins in the usually visible excitement at these reunions. 

Jason gets off his horse before they reach the dragon and she gets too nervous. He presses a calming hand to her flank and asks one of his men to take her inside so he can talk to Alfred and greet their guests. 

Even though only the infamous mercenary is left. A man he neither knows nor cares for. His interest lies somewhere else entirely. As soon as he knows his horse is taken care of, he resumes watching the dragons. 

Now that their riders are gone, the two young ones turn to Kal’s dragon, lazily nuzzling its neck. The black one landed behind the others and is resting next to Slade, who hasn’t moved from its side. They’re both just watching the greetings unfold and the only people left are Alfred and now Jason. 

“Master Jason,” Alfred greets when Jason approaches the little group of giants, unfazed by the eyes of a dragon and a mercenary resting on him. “How was your hunt?” 

Jason smiles, ignoring the goosebumps dancing across his skin when their gazes move to him. He’s used to mild curiosity from the blue ones, not this. 

“Both successful and good. The forest looks healthy.” 

Alfred nods, pleased. “I was just about to show Master Kane to the caves,” he says when they approach Slade and his dragon, carefully keeping a proper distance. 

Now that he’s so close, Jason can tell that Slade’s dragon really is almost as big as Kal’s dragon. The deep black color adds menace to the imposing size, and there’s an aura of fierceness and depth surrounding it. Its features, wings, scales, claws and most of all its golden eyes seem razor-sharp and unyielding and dwarf the humans. 

Jason’s eyes find Slade’s, when he finally tears his gaze away from the dragon, and are met with the exact same aura from the rider. He blinks, taken aback at the similarity, and Slade isn’t looking at him anymore. 

“It’s only been a decade, I can still find the way,” Slade says to Alfred and steps forward. “You must be swamped with preparations for the unannounced visit.” 

“I assure you that everything is being well handled as we speak. It’s simply a matter of dividing up tasks properly.”

“I can take him,” Jason volunteers and tells himself that he just doesn’t want to let Alfred waste time on this and that it’s got nothing to do with his weird fascination for dragons. 

“Master Jason…,” Alfred sighs, pointedly glancing at Slade. 

Jason winces internally, feeling like he was caught conveniently ignoring Slade’s reputation. Maybe offering to be alone with a mercenary isn’t the wisest thing to do for the son of a Lord. Jason can hold his own well enough against almost anyone, but Slade Kane isn’t just anyone. It could be a risk. 

Slade notices the dilemma, a curious eyebrow raises barely visible. “I assure you that the Els are paying me very well. You should know that they wouldn’t let any harm come to a Wayne.” 

Jason looks at Alfred, looking for his approval. If that’s the case, he shouldn’t need to oppose Jason’s offer. Slade’s reputation as contract-keeper precedes him. Technically, he doesn’t need Alfred’s blessing, but he likes having it. Simply, because he has a lot of respect for both of the men that raised him. 

“Can you please show him to his quarters, too, then? It is next to the King’s.”

“I will,” Jason nods. 

Alfred throws one last, hard look towards Slade and leaves. Jason wonders if there’s history or perhaps a story there. Before he can come up with theories, the Els’ dragons catch his attention. 

Kal’s giant seems lazy from the long flight but still willing to entertain the pups, who become more playful the more bored they get. If he remembers correctly, Jon named his dragon Yune and Kon his Ita. He has no idea what the name of Slade’s dragon is, and because of the way it watches him, with sharp calculating eyes, he doesn’t want to ask. 

“Kid,” Slade catches his attention, and he forces himself to stop looking at the black dragon, only belatedly bristling at the form of address. “Coming?” 

Despite, or maybe because of, the overly casual way he said it, it sounds like a dare. As if Slade hasn’t just tried to guarantee his safety a moment ago. It makes Jason wonder how much worth his claims carry. In this situation there’s nothing to be gained from harming him, but would his words still hold true if there was? 

But right now, Slade’s probably just testing if he can play with him. 

Jason rolls his eyes. “This way.” 

Slade turns to his dragon and says something under his breath. Jason can’t make out what and gets caught staring when Slade moves to follow him. The slight smirk Slade directs at him matches up perfectly with the memories he wasn’t sure were real. 

“It’s been a while since you two have seen each other, huh?”, Slade says, still far too informal, with a glance at his dragon that’s still watching him. Jason can’t entirely hide his surprise at the remark. “You don’t remember? Well, you were a child when we were last here. You’ve grown a lot.” 

Jason ignores the once-over Slade gives him. He got too used to ‘oh my, you’ve grown taller again’ comments over the past ten years. Bruce is the tallest man he knows, along with Kal, and they only have an inch on him. Or at least he thought so. Slade seems taller than those two. Maybe that’s why the comment about his growth feels different from his mouth. 

Jason does his best to not appear intrigued. Slade himself is a mystery. He knows that it isn’t expected of him to treat Slade like a member of the royal family, which begs the question how he became a dragon rider. Knowledge about the dragons is something the House El mostly keeps to themselves, but they’re the only ones known for being riders. 

Jason subtly shakes his head and pushes the questions he has related to Slade away. It doesn’t matter. He’s not interested. And Dragons aren’t Jason’s thing to wonder or know about. It’s the Els’ matter. He even keeps himself from turning his head to watch the giant creatures walk when he feels the first tremors in the ground. 

He can’t quite suppress the pleased humming coming from his chest though. Something about these creatures just always makes him itch to be closer to them. 

Slade huffs, almost amused, and falls into step beside him. Jason raises a questioning eyebrow at him, he’s sure that the sound he made wasn’t loud enough to be heard. 

“Dragon’s are a rare sight in the north,” Slade says, after regarding him for a second too long.  Jason shrugs and tries to figure out if there is any chance that he heard him after all. Surely not. 

“Are you any good with the sword, now?” 

A vague picture of himself as a child challenging Slade to a fight with a sword way too big for his tiny hands comes to mind. 

Jason groans. “You cannot tell me you’re one for old child stories.”

“No,” Slade says. “But I’m always interested in knowing how good a fighter someone is.”

“And you just ask directly?”, he scoffs. 

“You’d be surprised by how many people actually answer. Makes for a good way to separate people who know how to brag from people who know what they’re doing.” 

“What if they’re lying?”

“Oh, I notice,” Slade smirks and it throws Jason off, how familiar it feels despite having seen it only once today. 

“Alright. I’m decent,” he lies. Slade snorts. 

“You’re not avoiding giving me an answer by lying, kid. You’re Wayne’s son. It’s a given that you’re well trained. And in more than just sword fighting,” Slade says, eyeing him. 

Jason shrugs it off. His father’s reputation is well known, and he’s very familiar with the expectations it puts on his sons. No one is surprised by him or his brothers doing well. 

Slade adds, “Bet you had a lot of great teachers, too.”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

Most of his training was actually Bruce himself, but he doesn’t feel the need to share that particular detail. 

“You Waynes are an odd bunch. Training so much and yet never showing it off.” 

Jason’s heard this comment a lot, too. Especially about their decision to never participate in festivities. 

“Why would we do tourneys? They’re worthless”, he says, propping his chin forward just a tiny bit in annoyance. 

“You’re nobility,” Slade simply says, not bothering to pacify Jason’s sour mood. “They all scramble to get their sons to be the best at those things.” Slade glances at him again. “You should know why the Houses do it. And the boys are always eager to prove their worth. You never wanted to?”

The truth is that he used to want to do exactly that. Bruce always reminded them of the disadvantages as they grew up, but the nagging of a father often achieves the opposite of its intention. Even if he couldn’t find fault in his logic, he could weigh the reasons for the arguments and decide that, to his fifteen year old self, proving himself was worth more than keeping his abilities hidden, not participating in violence for entertainment or accidentally killing or dying for nothing but flowers and glory. 

But that was years ago. Every tournament he saw, he enjoyed less until only disdain was left. And when he turned sixteen, he found that sparring with Dick or Bruce or one of his teachers, or using his skills for hunting or real fights was much more satisfying. And enough to prove his own worth to himself.

“Is that why you participate? To prove yourself?”, he asks Slade. 

It’s pure provocation. Why would a dragon rider ever need to prove his worth to anybody? 

Slade scoffs, amused. “I do it for fun.”

Jason doesn’t doubt that Slade would share none of Bruce’s concerns. Or any of the usual reasons other Lords have for partaking, for that matter. 

“You don’t think it’s bothersome? The whole ceremonial fuss?”, Jason wonders suddenly. 

Apart from the obvious up- and downsides, that always annoyed him to the death. 

“I have no patience for those,” Slade simply says. Jason is honestly a bit taken aback by the fact that Slade doesn’t curse like a sailor every time he speaks. He thought he would be the type. “I have my fun, especially if there’s someone who asks to be knocked on his ass, but I disappear after that. No ceremonies for me.” 

“Elaborate.” Slade raises his eyebrow. “On the second point,” Jason says before he can ask himself why he even wants to know more. 

“You know what kind of boys I mean,” Slade says, entertained, and Jason almost feels his lips curl because, oh, he does indeed have a few specific faces in mind. 

He shakes his head, getting rid of the dawning smile like a mosquito, and looks expectantly at Slade, waiting for more. 

Slade caught him do it and smirks a little meaner but answers anyway. “The ones who got into the saddle on silk cushions. The boys who would get themselves killed in their first real fight. No grace, no wit, no common sense.” He pauses, studying Jason almost intently. “You’re not one of those, are you?”

“Considering, I’m still alive, no, I’m not.”

“Been in a ‘real’ fight then?” The interested glint in Slade’s eye is impossible to miss this time. 

“I’m afraid you’d mock me for calling it one, so I’ll spare the details. But it’s happened.”

“I’m surprised. I though the north was safe for Waynes.”

“It is. Because this is who we are. Not because our name protects us. Not from swords wielded by greed.” 

Slade hums. “Bruce knows what he’s doing.” 

That surprises Jason. He knows that they’ve known each other for decades and that Slade must posses a vast amount of knowledge. His father told them a lot about Slade, and he didn’t neglect to mention that Slade knows just as much about him. His father’s given name out of Slade’s mouth sounds like equal parts familiarity and disrespect for Bruce’s authority. 

“Didn’t know you were that close,” Jason narrows his eyes at him, dropping the formal tone. 

“Don’t tell him you think we were ever close,” Slade huffs. “We just used to be in each other’s lives a lot.”

“Not always on the same side of things, huh?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

“Sounds like a complicated story.”

“I can dumb it down for you.”

Jason frowns. “No, thanks.”

“Your father told you everything you needed to know then?,” Slade asks, doubting. 

Jason can’t answer that, so he points at the caves that are just a hundred yards up ahead. 

“We’re almost there.”

Slade looks amused for a split second before turning to the dragons. 

“Wait here,” he tells Jason, reaching his hand out until the black one comes close and nuzzles it. 

Jason steps to the side and watches Slade lead them to the caves. Slade and his dragon disappear first and Kal’s dragon nudges the young ones to follow. 

He waits, looking decisively bored, but it doesn’t take long for Slade to reappear. Jason’s still distracted and looking past Slade towards the caves. The bag he’s carrying now is invisible to him, until Slade is close. There must be something in it, that Slade absolutely doesn’t want to take his eye off of. The royal family’s belongings were already taken to their quarters upon their arrival. 

For the first time, he also notices that Slade, like him, prefers clothes with good mobility over those made too thick for comfortable warmth or to slim for dashing looks, and that, despite the white hair, he looks twenty years younger than he’s supposed to be. 

He silently chides himself for letting the dragons distract him that much from Slade. 

“I’ll show you to your quarters,” Jason says, starting to walk the way back before Slade reaches him. 

Slade melts down that distance in no time, without even looking like he’s trying, and joins him again. He isn’t letting Jason take even an inch of advantage. 

His jaw clenches for just a moment in frustration. Usually he can get the upper hand on another person easily. Or, as he prefers, have it in reach. He doesn’t enjoy it, unless the other person wants to play that game too, but just in case he needs it, he likes to have it as an option. 

Slade seems to love this game, and he is annoyingly good at it. But he doesn’t call Jason out on the attempts that fall flat. At least not openly. Jason gets the feeling that Slade is nevertheless fully aware of what he’s doing, which grates on his nerves. 

They reach the gates of Winterfell in silence, without the sounds of the dragons following them. They’re open and the guards, recognizing him, let them pass without question. Jason looks around, but all he sees are people going about their day in the courtyard.  

Slade looks at him curiously, but, before he can be smug about it, he sees a shadow shoot out from behind a building. Ny stops just in front of him and regards Slade warily. It doesn’t stop him from leaning his head into Jason’s chest to get head-rubs, though. 

“Ever seen a direwolf?”, Jason asks, turning to Slade but not letting go of Ny. 

“Just once. As pups, about a year after you found them. He grew up well.” 

Jason doesn’t expect Slade, a dragon rider and infamous mercenary, to flinch away from Ny, even though his wolf has the same shoulder height as a horse now, but Slade doesn’t look wary in the slightest. 

Not even when Ny quietly growls at him. 

“I smell of dragon. It tends to unnerve other animals,” Slade says, both sounding like he’s informing him about the color of the sky and warning him that animals perceive him as a threat. 

Jason chuckles. “Oh, no, he’s growling because of you. He never reacts like that to the princes. Seems like you’re either unlikable or untrustworthy. Perhaps both.” 

Slade raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that his judgement or is he picking up on yours?” 

Now that’s a question Jason doesn’t want to get into. Slade snorts. 

“Alfred said you’re the King’s guard?”, he asks instead and Slade confirms it with a nod. “Whatever happened… is it bad?” 

Slade cocks his head to the side. “Yes. They only hire me, when they need to.”

“Do you know the situation?”, Jason asks quietly, leading Slade into the castle. 

“I do.” 

Jason doesn’t bother asking for information he won’t get and leaves Slade at his room, worrying his bottom lip and keeping a hand in Ny’s warm fur. The question isn’t only what happened, but also why they came. Or, more accurately, what help they are going to ask for. 

He goes to his room, which isn’t far from where the King’s family and Slade are staying and changes out of his hunting clothes into something more formal. Even though the visit is unannounced, Alfred will have a feast put together by the evening. 

He lets himself fall onto his bed and rolls over to put an arm over Ny’s neck, who followed him to lay down in the space between wall and bed. It’s his favorite spot to sleep in, and Jason moves the bed a little further away from the wall every couple months to accommodate his growth, so that he fits perfectly. He just wants to take a second to lie here with Ny at his side and take in the unexpected turn this day took. 

Jason knows he can’t disappear into his room for too long, and he’d rather know what’s happening sooner than later. If the Queen didn’t retreat to her private quarters, which she usually doesn’t do, Dick probably took her to the private hall near their rooms. It’s a comfortable and warm space, and the place to go when looking for company. He does. 

He finds them occupying two of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and joins them. Slade is already there, quietly observing the hallway that leads to the chambers where the boys are. 

Dick is well versed at telling mundane tales about their family and land and has a knack for showing interest in the tales of King’s Landing the Queen Lois shares. Jason listens, but Dick is entertaining enough and Lois has always been rather pleasant company. 

Nothing they talk about is related to the reason for their visit, though, so his eyes keep drifting from the fireplace to Slade, wondering why he is so on guard and if he knows where the King and his father are. 

It’s almost time for the feast when the two of them finally show up and Bruce looks tense but determined. It’s a worrying look. Lois gets up, squeezes Kal’s hand and offers to go get the boys. A short while later, she returns with her sons and Jason’s brothers, closely followed by Alfred. 

He shuts the doors and Kal begins to fill them in. 

“A couple of nights ago, my Hand died,” the King begins solemnly. Jason’s unease grows. “I suspect foul doings and have come to ask your father to be my Hand and help me weed out any traitors that may be at my side. I’m sorry to have to do this.” 

Bruce lays a hand on the King’s shoulder and looks at the grim faces of his sons. 

“It is sudden, but you’re all well prepared. Richard will be Lord of Winterfell in my absence.” 

Dick stands straighter and doesn’t protest, doesn’t even chew on the inside of his mouth like he usually does, when he has to turn something over and over again in his head. He accepts it without question. Jason’s eyes fly back to the stern expression on his father’s face and the apologetic one on Kal’s. They’re worried and Slade’s presence only confirms it. 

Jason firmly steps forward. “Let me come with you.” 

Bruce looks a little pained. “Jason, Richard needs…”

“He has Alfred and Tim. They are great advisors,” he argues, unwavering. 

“I do not wish to see you go alone either, father,” Damian steps up next to him. 

“The last time Damian was in King’s Landing, he was too young to learn or see much, and I haven’t been in almost a decade. I can learn from the Kingsguard,” Jason continues. 

Kal smiles at them and undermines Bruce’s arguments about safety before he can even begin. “Slade agreed to stay at court until this matter is taken care of.” 

“Alright,” Bruce sighs, after he looks at Slade whose only reaction is a nod. “Lucius will be coming with us as well. We will travel by horse. Are you flying ahead?” 

“No, we will join you. I wish to discuss everything in detail and make plans,” Kal says. “The dragons will carry your bags so you may travel lightly, which means we’ll reach King’s Landing in about two weeks. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow if a day is enough time for preparations.”

“Of course, please rest in the meantime,” Bruce assures. 

Alfred declares that the feast is ready and Jason catches Slade looking at him when they leave the room. His face gives nothing away, though, and Jason tries to forget about it over dinner. 

It’s a pleasant affair, he’s not friends with Jon or Kon like Damian and Tim are, and their parents mostly keep to themselves to catch up on pleasantries for now, but the Els have visited Winterfell multiple times. The atmosphere in the dining hall is both cheerful and almost as comfortable as if it was just the Waynes hosting a dinner for their court. 

Jason sits at the side of the long table, near Slade. Their eyes meet from time to time and Jason can’t get the picture of Slade standing next to his dragon out of his head. Somewhere in the depths of his wonder, he wishes he could ask him all about them. 

He knows that Tim has ridden with Kon on his dragon before and that Jon enthusiastically introduced Dami to his dragon when he was big enough to make the journey, but Dick and himself never got close to one. 

All he can do is stare in fascination and wonder what it’s like to fly. 

He lightly shakes his head free of the web of daydreams and finds Slade looking at him. He returns a quick smile and goes back to talking to Kon, hoping with a sinking feeling in his gut that Slade doesn’t misunderstand him staring holes in the air while lost in his head as staring at Slade himself. 

The next day is hectic, Bruce, Damian and him, as well as the other two dozen people joining them, ready themselves for the departure. Tim seems to be torn between spending the remaining day with his family or Kon, and Dick practically splits himself three ways to be around Bruce, Damian and Jason at all times. 

Jason decides to make it easier for him and disappears into the god’s woods around noon. 

Most people, especially southerners, find the north to be uncomfortable. Everything is colder here, the seasons, the earth, the colors, even the sunshine. But Jason, like the rest of his family, loves his home. Every living thing requires a solid warm core and, when you spend your whole life here, you naturally gravitate towards fires, spaces storing heat and people who radiate warmth. 

Finding warmth amongst coldness can feel almost magical. 

Now, it’s spring and the sunlight takes some of the wind’s iciness away. Jason loves it, he basks in the feeling while strolling through the woods, savoring this very specific flavor of spring, before traveling south, where the spring is most likely almost giving way to a real summer already. 

Chapter Text

They’ve been on the road for a few days and Jason still can’t help observing the dragons. The beasts fly riderless above them, sometimes they circle over their heads, sometimes the young ones play in the winds and fly wild patterns from horizon to horizon with the adult dragons watching them. 

Slade says, the horses’ pace bores them, especially since they’re left on their own. The King spends most of the time planning things with Bruce, and Slade always keeps an eye on him. The princes fly, but then the dragons have to stay close by. Not because they aren’t capable riders, but because Slade can’t split himself into two guards. 

Jason doesn’t get the feeling that they truly believe something will happen on the road, but he’s familiar with obsessive caution. 

But the princes don’t take to the skies often. Jon seems happy to spend time with Damian, and Kon complains about the rain feeling even worse among the northern winds when he’s on dragon-back. 

The weather has been nasty since the second day, which makes them slower than planned and the mood of the company foul. Even Jason is annoyed by the constant shift between wetness and dampness, and he’s traveled in truly godawful conditions before. 

The tents they set up overnight to rest at least allow for decent warmth, so everybody, who’s not on guard duty, disappears into their own quarters quickly at the end of the day and doesn’t reappear until the morning. 

Tonight, Jason is lying on his makeshift bed, staring up at the tent’s ceiling and listening to the rain pour, and waits for the warmth to hopefully reach his bones. Thankfully, the two direwolves that squeeze themselves next to the beds are formidable heat sources. Damian next to him is already fast asleep and has a hand and a foot shoved into Jason’s beddings and the other buried in his wolf’s fur. 

Jason smiles a little at that. Somehow their little brother got clingier over time, starting at the opposite end of most kids’ needs. He used to consciously distance himself from them when Talia left him with his father and half-brothers in Winterfell. By now, it’s been a long time since Damian acted like he was an outsider once. 

Jason wants to turn around to drift off to the picture of Damian sleeping comfortably, but a light on the edge of his vision catches his attention. He lifts his head and watches as someone carries a torch past his tent and out of the camp in the direction of the dragons’ resting place. 

It must be Slade. He’s the only one who would go alone. And no one, who isn’t a rider, is stupid enough to approach the dragons on their own. Hopefully. 

A want crosses Jason’s mind that has his heart beating in his throat the more he tries to reason against it. He considers the rain, a good cover for foolish decisions, and slips out of his beddings before he can come to the definitive conclusion that this is a horrible idea regardless. Ny notices him move immediately and his big, round eyes curiously blink open, but Jason signals him to stay. Silently, he puts his thick, black coat and boots on and slides out of the tent to follow Slade at a distance. 

The dragons are resting about two hundred yards away. The camp’s surroundings are shrouded in darkness and they set it up off the road. There’s no actual path to speak of and he has to make his own way without tripping or making a noise that lets Slade know he’s being followed. Somehow he manages. 

He keeps to a careful range from where Slade stops and watches the black dragon’s head slowly appear in the light of the torch. The wet scales reflect the flames gorgeously. It increases the reach of the torch’s light, and still only half of its face is illuminated and watching Slade. The dragon lifts one of its wings and opens it a little over Slade’s head to shield him from the rain. 

Slade pats its side, getting a low rumble in return. 

“Yes, I know. This is kind of boring, isn’t it?” Jason can barely make out the words over the distance and through the rain. “Bear with it for a while longer. The calm won’t last long.” 

The dragon purrs and Slade rests his hand against it. He is dwarfed by his own dragon, but, inexplicably, he looks as tall and strong as ever. 

Jason has seen neither of them kill, fight nor actually threaten anybody, but their strength and menace are the first things he noticed about them. Fascinatingly, there’s a gracefulness to both, that seems to be equally as big a part of them. It’s just something you don’t consciously notice, unless you pay attention to it. Before Jason figured it out, the discrepancy between the cautiousness he was aware of and the subconscious attraction he felt was rather unsettling. 

Jason keeps watching the pair quietly communicate. Even without the atmosphere set by the rain and the flames, he would be captivated. They’re fucking breathtaking. 

As soon as Slade moves to return to the camp, Jason slips through the darkness back to his tent. He silently gets his boots and coat off and settles in his beddings with a rapidly pounding heart. He is fairly sure that the dragon wouldn’t have been a danger to him with Slade between them, but Slade could’ve discovered him at any moment, and how would he explain himself?

During the next day, he tries to neither avoid nor seem interested in Slade. He doesn’t bother hiding his fascination for the dragons, but that has to be a common sight to the riders. Jason often rides with Damian at his side, and his little brother takes a great interest in asking the King’s guard about King’s Landing and who’s currently roaming in the King’s circles. It’s something Jason will be affected by too, so he pays attention. 

A part of their rides are spent with Damian and Slade talking, while Slade keeps his eye on the royal family, and Jason listens. 

Slade doesn’t exactly tell stories the way other people would to answer Damian’s questions about the nobility of King’s Landing. He talks about what a person’s relationships are, their standing and the power they wield. The truly fascinating part of it is when Slade talks about rumors and what a person might be capable of, be it good-hearted, vile or treacherous. 

Jason needs to know these things. He’s about to be thrown into the middle of all this. No matter how much Bruce might try to downplay his sons’ abilities and importance to get them out of any and all bull’s eyes, they’ll need to be aware of what position they’re in. Ideally, at all times. 

But, what he gradually becomes even more interested in, is how Slade judges the people, actions and rumors. So he starts watching Slade, too, and pays close attention to how he talks about things. 

He remains neutral and factual, and it seems to come from a place of truly not caring about any of these people. It’s fascinating. Jason’s never met someone as knowledgeable yet indifferent. Slade’s judgement mostly comes into play in telling things he deems important first and in the assessment he gives about how true he believes a rumor to be. 

It takes days before Damian is satisfied with the answers he got and leaves Jason alone with Slade to join Jon instead once and for all. 

“Thanks for indulging Damian.”

Slade hums. “Your brother knows how to ask questions.”

Jason glances at him curiously. “You practically led him to the questions you wanted to answer by the nose.”

Slade shrugs. “Kal paid a hefty sum to not only keep the Els safe but any Wayne who might come to Winterfell. I might as well make my job easier by making sure you know what you’re walking into.” 

“All of this is actually a contract?”, Jason asks, astonished. 

“What did you think?” Slade turns to look at him. 

“Well, you have a dragon, and you’ve accompanied the King to Winterfell before.” 

“I’ve also been to Winterfell alone. But I suppose you were too young to remember.”

“Old man,” Jason mutters under his breath, and Slade raises an eyebrow at him. 

“So you thought I came because I’m related to them? Didn’t your dad teach you anything about me?”

“He did. But, no, he doesn’t like talking about your past relationships. Officially, you’re a Kane, but you have a dragon…”

“Yes. I’m a bastard of the Kane family, not an El,” Slade says simply. “House Kane has been close to ruin for over a hundred years, which is why no one pays attention to them anymore, but they’re dragon riders, too.” 

“You’re a bastard? And yet they gave you a dragon?”

“No,” he rumbles and deep satisfaction seems to bleed into his voice. “My dragon was a wild one.” 

Jason expected that asking personal question might antagonize Slade, but the fire in his eye looks more like he’s challenging the world, not Jason. 

“I didn’t know they still existed.” 

A pleasant tingle runs down Jason’s spine at the thought of wild dragons still living somewhere on this continent. And Slade… did what? Find one? And now, rides one? Heavens. 

Slade shrugs. “The Els and the Kanes like to keep as much mystery around the dragons as they can.” 

Jason knows that. It’s sensible. Dragons are the most powerful creatures in the world, but they’re rare, and it’s possible to kill them if you know how to. The King’s family is only invulnerable, because the weaknesses of their dragons are well hidden. So well hidden, that most people believe them to be a myth. 

He wonders why Slade would let someone else in on one of those secrets. After all, protecting their secrets is in Slade’s best interest in well. Jason doesn’t know if Slade has any kind of emotional attachment to the Els or their dragons, but he’s certain that he shares a deep bond with his own. The way he treats his dragon makes him wonder if Slade is capable of maybe even loving something. It sure looks like that from where Jason hides and watches, despite what his father thinks about Slade. 

Jason has been following Slade every night since that first time. It’s been raining the whole time and neither the dragons nor Slade seem to notice him, so he continues on his ill-advised quest. 

He doesn’t understand what Slade is doing every night. Just going there, leaning against a leg of his black beauty, caressing its jaw or neck, murmuring with his forehead pressed to scales. The dragon in turn watches his rider, watches the flames and purrs and rumbles. 

And Jason can’t look away from them. Something about the unlikely peace between the giant beast and the ferocious human sets his soul alight. 

He does, however, understand why Slade goes every night. He can’t seem to stay away either and he tells himself, he does have to. The rain hides his presence. 

On the first night with clear skies, the missing rain-sounds reveal a constant deep rumbling that’s keeping Jason awake, but it’s so faint that he eventually thinks he must be imagining it. When he finally sees Slade pass the tent with his torch, it’s later than usual. He tries to find sleep, to not risk following and getting caught with the absence of the cover the rain provides, but it’s to no avail. 

At last, he hears a light pitter-patter on the tent’s cloth and that’s the only excuse he needs. He runs his fingers through the fur on Ny’s neck, to let him know that he needs to stay, and gets up, throws his coat over his shoulders and goes out to breathe in the night air. 

He can’t follow Slade directly this time, but he saw where the dragons landed in the evening. As he always does. He walks carefully, watching out for the light of a torch or a faint blue or silver shadow of one of the younger dragons. The older two melt into the night and are almost impossible to spot with or without moonlight. 

Finally, he sees Slade’s torch. He dares to creep a bit closer before he stops and refrains from making a single sound. 

Slade’s dragon rumbles lowly, it’s almost a growl this time. Oddly, Jason thinks he can make out annoyance in the tone. 

“Yes, he’s just watching again,” Slade pats the side of its jaw without even turning his head. 

Jason sucks in a sharp gasp and stops breathing altogether. Gods. Slade spoke just loud enough that Jason can hear it. 

Slade’s dragon huffs a little and rests its head on the ground before Slade. Its head is so big that even now Slade can barely pet the top of it. The dragon opens its shimmering eyes and they settle on the shadows Jason is hiding in. 

“I thought you weren’t coming today,” Slade says and it sounds almost amused. He lays a hand on his dragon’s nose and turns around to look at him. “Come here.” 

Jason has to blink one, two times before his body unfreezes. He doesn’t even mind that Slade did not word it as a question. He’d simply refuse and leave if he didn’t want this so badly. Still, he only takes one hesitant step forward. He knows that dragons are deadly creatures to basically anyone but their riders. He isn’t a genuine fool, he does know better, it just doesn’t seem to matter much against what he wants. 

“She won’t do anything to you,” Slade promises, as unconcerned as ever. 

Jason huffs and steps out of the shadows of the trees to slowly make his way over. He’s careful to keep Slade between them at all times. Just in case. Even though he would be close to powerless either way. 

Slade’s eye bores through him when he stops a couple of feet away. “Did she keep you awake?” 

“So the rumbling was her?” 

Jason eyes the head of the creature that could swallow him in two pieces. 

“Yes. She’s grumpy because she can’t fly freely and can’t stray far from the others.”

“They’re asleep?”, Jason whispers, not having seen any other scales on the edges of the flame’s reach. 

Slade nods. “I’ve never seen an outsider so curious about dragons, or should I say enamored with them.” 

“I don’t know why that is, either,” Jason murmurs. 

“Do you want to touch her?”, Slade holds out his palm for Jason to lay his hand in. 

Jason stares at the hand as if he expects it to be poisoned. His eyes fly up to Slade’s amused look, and he glares at him for a split second before taking him up on his offer and laying his hand in Slade’s. Slade’s hand is even rougher than Bruce’s and to Jason’s misfortune bigger than his. It makes his breath catch a bit, and it has nothing to do with the dragon this time. 

Slade tugs Jason forward to stand beside him. The dragon raises her head a little and he has to look up to make eye contact with both of them. His stomach flutters. He’s not used to looking up anymore. 

She sways her head slightly and Jason almost takes a step back. 

“She senses your nerves.” Slade takes his hand and puts it on the same scales he petted a moment ago and keeps his hand atop Jason’s. 

Somehow, Jason is not surprised at how warm the scales are. The first time he saw her, he noticed that her inner warmth seemed even more intense than that of Kal’s dragon. He’s not sure how to explain this concept of inner warmth. Dick always looks at him somewhat concerned when he tries. But he’s never seen a creature or place that radiates as much warmth from their core as this dragon. And her rider, he thinks, shuddering at the warm palm covering the back of his hand. 

“Her name is Myra,” Slade says, humming. 

“Myra”, he whispers and the dragon rumbles again. This time it sounds satisfied. 

Slade moves his hand away from Jason’s and puts it on his shoulder instead. Jason wants to shake him off, too self conscious with how bare he’s feeling, but Slade can tell his dragons mood better than him and the last thing he should do is startle either of them. Though, he supposes him scaring a dragon is a rather ridiculous notion. 

“Shouldn’t you be watching the camp?”, Jason questions, keeping his voice neutral. 

Dragons are supposedly highly intelligent. He doesn’t want to sound antagonistic whilst standing next to a rider and his dragon. 

“We’re not that far away, I can tell if something changes.” 

Jason glances at the torches a couple hundred feet away. He can barely see them, much less anything else. And smart attackers won’t cause a commotion, risking more fire and loud noises. He turns to stare at Slade, who’s several inches closer than expected. He once read about Kanes having sharper senses and inhuman strength. 

“So the stories about your House are true?”, he asks, ignoring Slade’s amusement at his surprise. 

“Depends. You should know how trustworthy things like that are. Stories are sometimes just stories,” Slade waves off. “You should also know how physically strong Kal is compared to you, your brothers and your father. That’s no story.” 

“I do,” he whispers, too focused on the dragon shifting in front of him. 

He slowly starts moving his hand over the scales. Warmth radiates from beneath them, but the surface is hard and rough and the edges razor sharp. 

A deep rumble sounds from within Myra and he stops, thinking she might be unhappy. Her eye opens and unhurriedly moves to look at him. He meets her gaze and understands. 

“Forgive me,” Jason mumbles and resumes caressing her. She shuts her eye and carries on with her purring. 

He can see Slade watching them, right beside him, in the corner of his eye. 

“You always liked each other,” Slade says suddenly. 

Jason’s head snaps around to look at him and he forgets about Myra’s demand and stills midair. 

“What?” 

“You always wanted to play with her and she loved to let you. From the first time we came to Winterfell. You could barely run around.” 

Slade’s gaze is focused on somewhere between them, probably seeing memories from the past. Jason, in turn, stares at him, waiting for any kind of elaboration or explanation. 

Myra huffs and turns her head to lightly poke Slade in the side. 

“I’m not doing anything to him,” Slade rolls his eye at her in fake exasperation. 

Jason carefully reaches out to let his hand rest on top of her nose. His brain is still trying to process what Slade said. 

“Is that why you let me follow you?” 

He meets Slade’s gaze head on. He doesn’t mean to sound accusing or defensive, but Slade cocks his head at him, considering. 

“No one, who isn’t an El or a Kane, would have noticed you.” 

Jason shakes his head. “I know what I’m capable of. I just want to know why you let me,” he says genuinely. Hiding, that he’s more than curious how his abilities would measure up against Slade’s in between sentences. 

“You’re partially right,” Slade says slowly. “I’m aware of what Bruce thinks of me and how much he does or doesn’t trust me, and I can work with that. But I also know what he’s probably told you and Damian about me, and I know that he trusts me more than he would let on in front of his sons because he can read me to a certain extent. You two can’t because you don’t know me at all.” 

Jason frowns. So this whole thing is about getting Jason to trust him? 

“You’re letting me near your dragon just so I like you a little more?”, he asks dumbfounded and Slade laughs at him. 

“I need you and your brother to trust me, and I need to know how capable you are. But I would never let someone she doesn’t like near her,” he says. “At least not if I want to be sure that the person is alive and unharmed at the end of the day.” 

“Couldn’t you step in?”

“Sure, I could. But she’s not here to follow orders from me, or for me to tell her off as if she’s a child putting dirt in her mouth.” 

Jason hums in agreement, thinking about how wrong it would feel to lead a dragon by its nose. Myra growls lowly. He runs his hand down her snout and watches her eyes slowly close and open to look at him again. They look like crystallized gold. 

“She’s gorgeous,” he whispers. 

It’s still drizzling and, though they’re already far south of Winterfell, the winds at night are still cold. Yet with her warmth in front of him and Slade’s warmth next to him, he doesn’t even notice it. 

But Slade, still watching him, does. 

“If you get sick and Bruce finds out it’s because I let you near Myra in the middle of the night, he’ll want my head,” he says flatly. 

“Just say you need your beauty sleep, old man,” Jason rolls his eyes at him and reluctantly steps away from the dragon. 

She huffs but doesn’t protest when Slade pets her neck two times, leans his forehead against her to murmur something and moves to leave. Jason recognizes the routine. 

He follows Slade back to the camp and he continues to ride with him, even though Damian isn’t there to ask questions anymore. 

Chapter Text

Jason wakes up to sunshine and Damian leaning over him, casting a shadow. 

“Where were you all night, that you’re still sleeping now?” 

Jason’s reminded of warmth in the rain and rubs a hand over his face before his expression can give anything away. Of course, Damian would notice his absence one night. 

“Am I late?”, he mumbles. 

“No. Just later than usual,” Damian clarifies, and Jason can’t tell if he’s just imagining the curiosity in his brother’s voice. 

“That’s fine then.” 

He turns around and buries his head in his beddings. The clearer he thinks, the more embarrassing last night seems. It’s not enough that he got caught, he also got way too close to Slade. This kind of openness would have never developed in daylight. He curses, groans and drags his blanket over himself. 

“We’ll leave soon,” Damian says. 

“Just give me a moment to wake up. I couldn’t find sleep last night. I’ll be quick,” Jason rumbles and yawns to sell his cover. It’s not even a lie. 

Just as he’s done dragging a top down his waist, the curtain of the opening of their tent moves. 

“Boys,” Bruce greets. 

“Father.”

“Morning,” Jason nods from where he’s sitting down to pull his boots on. 

“I’ve spoken to Kal about Slade and his role in all of this. He says you can trust him.” Jason knows that Bruce deliberately doesn’t say that he trusts Slade. He’s probably only mentioning it because Kal’s word means a lot to him. “They have a contract until this is over, and Slade doesn’t break them. Ever. This agreement doesn’t only cover protection and help for the Els as the head of the Kingsguard but also extends to us. So let him know anything he reasonably needs to know.” 

Jason nods, ignoring his heart nervously picking up speed because, not only did Slade tell him the truth, he told him in the middle of last night when they were away from camp and alone with his dragon. Bruce, however, doesn’t know the odd things Jason’s heart does lately and looks to Damian who acknowledges their father’s reassurance as well. 

Bruce turns to leave, but Damian stops him. 

“Father? I spoke with Jon yesterday. When we get to King’s Landing, I will stick to him. It seems that I can learn a lot from being around him, his environment and his teachers. But when you need me, I will be available,” Damian says determined and pleased with his plan. 

Bruce smiles and steps close to him to run a hand through his hair. 

“Good,” he says and kisses his son’s temple. 

Jason frowns. He already said he’d learn from the Kingsguard, but he didn’t ask Slade if that’s even possible yet. It was just an excuse to come with his father. Fortunately, Bruce doesn’t ask to confirm Jason’s plan after Damian’s declaration and leaves to let them pack their stuff. 

Ny usually disappears into the woods as soon as he gets chased out of the tent, but today he stalks over to the horses and lies down in the sun. It’s the first time the clouds don’t smother the sky since they left Winterfell two weeks ago. Jason watches Damian’s grey wolf Nia join Ny, with a yawn that exposes all of her teeth. Thank heavens, the horses of Winterfell are used to being around direwolves and don’t scare in their presence. 

When the camp is taken down, he hears the now familiar sounds of dragons walking towards them. He picks up his bags and carries them over to Slade and Myra who are waiting to receive half of the baggage. Slade’s are already secured on her back. 

Jason didn’t exactly want to see Slade first thing in the morning, but Myra has been carrying his and Damian’s things since Slade came up to him before they left Winterfell and took their babs to store them next to his own. And now, he refuses to go out of his way to avoid Slade. 

“Sleep well?”, Slade greets with an unreadable expression. 

“I did,” he lies, handing the bags to Slade, who throws them over his back and climbs on the saddle. 

In truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the two of them. 

Slade glances at him, hands busy tying the straps in place, and doesn’t say anything more. When he jumps off, he lands right in front of him and Jason realizes that he didn’t back away from the dragon like he usually does. Like it would be expected of a stranger. 

Myra is looking at him curiously, in the same way as she does every morning, but this time she purrs and winds her neck around to lower her head to him. He lets out a relieved breath and doesn’t notice the smile playing on his lips when he starts caressing her again. 

Jason is vaguely aware of Slade putting other people’s bags on her saddle but is too distracted by observing her. Now dry, her scales swallow more light than they reflect, even in the morning sun. But her eyes shine brighter than the warm glow they emit at night. Belatedly, Jason notices that Slade is done with the bags and watching him. 

Jason ignores the tingle running down his spine and focuses on important matters. 

“Do you remember what I said when I argued to join my father on his journey to King’s Landing?”, Jason asks slowly. 

“The excuse you gave? Sure.” Jason flashes him a glare, but he’s not wrong. “Your father asked Kal to give you something that keeps you occupied for the time you’re there. And Kal looked at me, oh, so expectantly. So, you’ll have the honor.”

Jason looks at him stunned. “Oh.” 

Of course, Bruce is trying to prevent him from doing something, in his words, stupid with too much free time.

“You’d meddle, huh?”, Slade scoffs.

Unfortunately, he absolutely would. Will. He won’t let his father, nor his King, nor Slade stop him when he determines that he needs to act. 

Jason shrugs. “He calls it reckless, I call it risks worth taking.” 

“Mhm, get used to it. You’ll never be on the same page when it comes to drawing that particular line. You can compromise, but at least one of you will always hate it,” Slade says, amused. 

He pets Myra on the neck twice and the dragon huffs and shakes her head. She pads a little further away from the camp and raises her upper body. Mesmerized, Jason watches her wings unfold and stretch before she lifts herself off the ground with elegant movements and takes to the sky. 

An impatient nudging pulls him back down to earth. 

Jason turns to see Ny press his forehead into his side.

“No need to be jealous,” he chuckles and scratches his wolf’s neck. 

Ny looks at him with deep black eyes, huffs and turns around to trot back to the tent’s location. Which is dismantled and packed away, just like all the others. The company is almost ready to get going and Jason is later than usual. Again. 

Whatever. Slade is the one who loads half their baggage onto his dragon, so he’s always the last one. It doesn’t matter if Jason is ready before or at the same time as him. Especially, if Damian seeks out Slade to ask a million questions and Jason simply tags along with his little brother, like he did the past few days. 

They follow Ny and are greeted by Damian, holding the reins of his own horse and standing by theirs. 

“What is with you today?”, Damian questions his lateness when Jason steps next to him to saddle his horse. 

He winces unnoticeably. “Long night.” 

Damian shakes his head and turns to Slade. “Thank you for answering all my questions so far.” To Jason’s surprise, he even adds a little polite bow. “I’ll join Jon for the rest of the journey. Father says, we’ll reach King’s Landing tomorrow.” 

He nods towards Jason and walks off, followed by his horse and his wolf, without another word. 

“Looks like you earned his respect,” Jason comments, staring after his little brother. 

“Didn’t expect a thank you,” Slade snorts. “He grew up with the Al Ghuls for quite some time, no?” 

Jason glances at Slade and fastens the belts of his saddle. 

“You have Dick to thank for that. He’s the one who loves expressing genuine gratitude and appreciation. Bruce teaches etiquette, but Damian rarely judges someone worthy of going through the trouble of behaving more than just properly for.” 

Slade’s expression grows from quiet bemusement to a smirk. “And you think I’m not worthy?”

Jason curiously tilts his head at him. “You don’t give a shit about etiquette,” he simply states. 

“I don’t,” Slade affirms. 

He gets on his horse and Jason follows without thinking, trotting together at the end of their company and staying within sight of the King and his family.

“He doesn’t deem you worthy because he doesn’t trust you, which is fair, no? He showed gratitude because he was genuinely grateful, isn’t that worth more than acting polite?” 

Slade turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “So, now you’re the one with the questions? If you want to learn something for your family’s safety and sake, remember this: don’t tell anyone who trusts who. That’s the kind of thing that gets you or someone else killed.”

“I know,” Jason says, giving him a sour look. “I don’t mind telling you. You’re different.”

“If you already trust me, you’re foolish.” 

Jason thinks of last night. That wasn’t trust, that was a lapse in judgement, he tells himself. They’re common when the stars are out, distorting feelings and reality. Slade must agree, that things done in the dead of night don’t matter, because he doesn’t hold it against him. Or hasn’t yet. 

“You’re different because you know we don’t trust you. Whatever happened between you and our father…” Jason interrupts himself before he starts to speculate. “Anyway, he doesn’t trust you, so why would we when we don’t even know you? And I doubt, you trust anyone. So why would you care?” His eyes find a black creature gliding through the sky. “Well, expect maybe for…” 

He glances to his side, letting the thought hang between them. Slade’s eye regards him so intensely that its iciness sends a shiver down his spine. 

Jason hopes it isn’t just wishful thinking that he reads more chilling curiosity than cold animosity in his look. 

“I’m not naïve. Some people would kill you for not trusting them. Some might betray you. Some make their own trust dependent on yours. Some will be hurt and turn their backs. But you don’t care, do you?”, Jason continues. 

“You understand. Good,” Slade nods. “But have you ever seen it with your own eyes? The northerners are so stubborn about their loyalty.”

“Selfish people, who betray for their own gain, exist everywhere. But it’s hard to go against an ideal everyone else holds onto so tightly. That’s why it’s rare in the north, but I’ve seen it regardless.” 

“Don’t forget that King’s Landing is different. It’s not your home and loyalty is seen as a burden, not as an ideal.”

“As if I could. It’s way too warm for this time of the year here,” Jason laughs. “Besides, you already gave Dami a rundown on who the people we will meet are. We might not trust you, but we know your contracts are trustworthy. We know you didn’t lie.” 

Slade snorts. “What I told you doesn’t account for how your individual relationships will affect the dynamics. Some might dislike you more, if you get close to someone else. Some might want to get close, because you’re young, nobility and good looking.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen those types trying to get to my brother often enough,” he says, annoyed at the memories of people acting sickeningly sweet around Dick. 

When he notices the look Slade gives him, he feels like he missed something. An implication he should’ve caught onto maybe. Or like the conclusion he came to was slightly off. 

But Slade doesn’t say anything else about it. 

After they set up camp in the evening, Bruce calls for Jason and Damian to join them in the King’s tent. They are greeted by the King, his family, Bruce and Slade standing around a table. Documents and maps are spread out, Bruce picked one up and is reading the contents with a frown when they enter. The King smiles at them and motions to the free space at the table. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Kal begins and looks to Bruce and Lois. “We wanted to give you an update on the situation.”

“When we return tomorrow, we will return to our daily duties for the most part,” Lois says, letting her eyes wander from her own sons to Damian. “Jon told me you will be joining him.”

“If I may,” Damian nods solemnly. 

“Of course,” she smiles warmly. 

“I agreed to let Jason train with the Kingsguard,” Slade joins in. 

Bruce puts the document down and looks between Slade and Jason.

Envy flashes across Damian’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s so minuscule that Jason would bet money on Jon already telling him about some great personal teacher they will have. Only that could pacify him. Damian needs his regular training like he needs air to breathe and he would never let the opportunity of learning from of the best fighters alive pass by unutilized. Jason and him are very similar in that regard.

Bruce nods. “Agreed. I’ll be busy with my duties as the Hand and the investigation. Don’t unnecessarily interfere, I’ll ask for assistance when I need it. Especially you two,” he impresses on his sons. 

Jason rolls his eyes. “We’re keeping busy, aren’t we?” 

He doesn’t say not to worry. They both know that he will find the time regardless. 

“When did you ever ask for help?”, Damian huffs, looking slightly offended. 

The King chuckles sympathetically. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll work together with Slade. He doesn’t have a choice in that really. Slade can go to places your father and I can’t without drawing attention. And I’ll keep an eye on him, force help on him if I have to,” Kal winks, grinning. 

Jason doesn’t let his surprise slip into his expression. Kal and Bruce really do seem to trust Slade, at least when it comes to work, surprisingly a lot. Or specifically with his contracts? Maybe the distrust Bruce used to express was always more on a personal level. Which makes him curious. 

“Jason.” Kal’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and gets his attention. “I know you probably want to learn a lot from the Kingsguard, but can I ask you to stick around Slade specifically?” Jason curiously glances to Slade who doesn’t react. “You’ll see each other regularly anyway and if it looks like he keeps an eye on or mentors a guest of mine, people who pay attention won’t question why he’s spending so much time in King’s Landing. He’ll be able to move more freely and it won’t raise as much attention as it would when it seems like he’s directly working for me.”

“I can do that,” Jason says earnestly, hiding how eager he is to agree. 

He’ll be closer to Bruce’s investigation like this. Maybe he’ll even be able to keep an eye on it himself. 

“Now,” Bruce begins. “Apart from clearing up how we’ll fit into the court, I wanted to share all the information and conclusions we’ve come up with so far.” He smiles at his sons. “Though I heard that you two already informed yourselves of the going-ons.” 

Damian straightens up a bit more than he always holds himself anyway. The pride and sincerity he visibly carries make Jason want to hug him close and strengthen his conviction while also giving him a bit of the softness Dick and even Tim are so good at conveying. But this is neither the time nor the place. He’ll wait until they’ve gone to bed. 

“Tell us what to pay attention to,” Jason nods. 

Bruce might not want them sticking their noses into dangerous things, but he always wants them to keep their eyes open anyway. And who knows who might be careless around supposedly clueless guests. 

Bruce nods and starts filling them in on everything he has so far. It’s nothing concrete, just speculations and theories. Cause of death was probably a poison that mimics dying of natural causes. There are several that could achieve this and remain barely or not at all detectable. Some of them are easier to get a hold of than others. Still, such a plan is anything but simple. 

Kal gives a quick rundown on which Houses and people are trustworthy, and it overlaps with what Slade said for the most part, but then he narrows it down to who might be capable of pulling this off or employing someone capable of it, and the list shortens a bit. 

Bruce says he will figure the rest out himself and dismisses them for the night. 

“Don’t forget that these are theories. The actual name might have not even come up this evening,” Bruce reminds them before they step outside and retire for the night. “Keep your eyes open.” 

Chapter Text

The first thing Jason notices upon stepping into his new quarters is the sunlight streaming through the windows to the east and onto the roofed balcony to the south. The sea breeze lightly moves the thin curtains hanging to the sides of big windows and open arches towards the balcony, and the light reflecting on the red stones adds warmth to the picture of ocean and coastline. 

It’s a stark contrast to the perpetual cold tones and shadows that cling to the stones of Winterfell even in the summer. No architect of the Red Keep had winters in mind that could let a person freeze to death even indoors when they were planning the castle.  

He picks up on Slade moving in the hallway behind him. “I’ll show Bruce and the kid to their rooms, they’re right next to yours. My quarters are directly above us and the King’s are in that same wing,” he tells Jason. “Get unpacked and I’ll show you the training grounds later.” 

Jason nods absentmindedly, still letting his eyes roam through the room, and hears Slade close the door behind himself. 

It’s a fairly spacious room and nothing is prepared for someone to use it because they’re unannounced guests, so it seems emptier than it should be. The King didn’t tell anyone the purpose of his journey, making their arrival a surprise for both city and court.

The table is clear, the closet empty, there is no food and no refreshments, but the room is clean and the bed is made. Which is good enough in Jason’s opinion. The only thing he had any expectations for was the bed. He was curious about the expected softness and lightness instead of the heavy, warm beddings from back home. 

Riding into this unfamiliar city of sun and spring warmth, bustling streets and red stones, narrow alleys and sand already made it clear that this could never feel like home. But all he really hoped for for this temporary stay was a good bed. And the spacious and comfortable look of it does not disappoint. 

Everything else he doesn’t care all that much about. 

He’s barely done unpacking when a servant knocks on the door and sets drinks and food on the table. He eyes the fresh fruits with mild interest. Everything seems lighter than it is in the north. From the furniture to the food to the clothes worn by people roaming the castle. 

Jason thanks the man for his troubles and dismisses him when he asks if he should go fetch anything else. He packed everything he needs, which are mostly clothes. His sword is leaning at the bedside, and he has his knives on him at all times. 

There’s another knock on his door when he’s standing on the balcony and watching the city. He’s fairly sure that he spotted the dragon pit on a hill further away, but he hasn’t seen any of the dragons since they stopped to take their baggage off of them near the city gates. 

“Come in,” Jason raises his voice to be heard through the room and on the other side of the heavy door. 

It’s Slade who opens and closes it before joining him on the balcony. 

“They’re already resting in the caves,” he says unprompted. 

Jason scoffs, half between amusement and annoyance. “It seems I became far too predictable.” 

“And yet, I still don’t know anything about how well you fight. Come with me.” 

“Is Damian coming, too?”

“No, I’ll watch the kids’ private training tomorrow. I’d rather keep his skill hidden from as many people as possible.” 

Jason follows him inside and grabs his sword before leaving his new quarters. 

“Your concern is touching.” 

“Heh, Isn’t it convenient when the most practical and morally correct thing to do are one and the same?” 

Jason scoffs at his nonchalance. “Charming.”

“What do I need to be charming for? You, on the other hand, need to worry about being pleasant to be around.” Jason glares at him. “Your edges won’t appeal to the Ladies at court. They’re used to more… courteous Lords.” 

“I didn’t come here for matchmaking.” 

“No?,” Slade asks, watching him. “Are you already promised?”

Jason scoffs. “I’m not.”

Slade narrows his eye at him. “Huh.”

“I know it’s unusual for a son of a Lord to be neither married nor engaged in his mid-twenties. But Winterfell is not King’s Landing and neither my father nor his parents had much interest in marriage for the sake of heirs. If Richard hadn’t met Barbara, he wouldn’t be engaged either, even though he’s almost thirty.” 

“Interesting. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else from Bruce.” 

“Besides,” Jason deflects. “As far as I’m aware, you sleep alone at night as well.”

Amusement crosses Slade’s face. “I suppose I should agree with that. But I’m a King’s guard, I’m not allowed to be married.” 

“Temporarily,” Jason rolls his eyes. “And what about before? You look like you’re fifteen years older than me, but from the stories Bruce told, you should be older than him. You should’ve gotten married thirty years ago.”

“Who says I didn’t?”

Jason stops dead in his tracks and stares at him wide-eyed. “What?”

Slade turns to answer at the top of a staircase. “As much as you northerners might think you’re doing things differently, us Valyrians are just as bad at caring about typical westerosi traditions.” 

Jason nods, eyebrows drawn together, motioning for Slade to keep walking, and follows him down the last set of stairs, lost in thought. Did he perhaps completely misread Slade? Is he alone, not because he wouldn’t give up his freedom like he thought, but because he’s a widower? 

It doesn’t take long to reach the courtyard that is meant for training once they’ve left the main staircase behind. The sounds of metal swords and wooden sticks hitting metal, wood and straw become noticeable before the trainees come into view. 

The spring sun is warm in the cool air and fills the courtyard completely at midday. The men up on their feet are mostly young lords and the sword masters, hired to train them. Some gold cloaks are on the sand, dueling for fun. Most of the men in gold he sees are sitting or standing to the side, watching and laughing, cheering and sneering, looking uninterested in participating themselves with drinks in their hands. 

There’s only one duel where both fighters go after each other brutally. 

“Matthew, Tiger,” Slade raises his voice. 

The two stop striking each other but don’t avert their eyes, still paying attention to the other. 

“Slade,” the one who perked up at ‘Matthew’ greets. “How was the north? Didn’t freeze your balls off, did you?”

“I did manage to keep all the important parts,” Slade shoots back. “Now, if I might interrupt the moment you two are having, we got fresh meat.” 

“The puppy?”, Tiger asks and looks directly at Jason. 

He isn’t exactly interested in proving himself to anybody here, but the attempt at hazing does make him roll his eyes a bit. 

“What do you mean? There’s no open spot in the Kingsguard.”

“Or is that one of those fancy new rules? Like you only receiving orders from the King and not having to listen to our Lord Commander?”

“He’s a guest of the King and I’m supposed to get him into shape, you fools,” Slade says drily. Now that’s a comment that has Jason biting on his lip, even though he knows why Slade is twisting the truth. They can’t exactly go around and let people now the actual reason why Lord Wayne is here and one of his sons is sticking to Slade’s side. 

No, even if it wasn’t for that… He did ask to be trained by Slade. Just to cover his own ass at that. 

Fuck. 

“So, who do you wanna go against first?”, Tiger grins. 

“Choose your worst,” Jason shrugs. 

He doesn’t doubt that that would be Slade. 

“All three of us it is then,” Matthew sighs. 

Huh? That’s not-

The moment he sees the amusement in Slade’s eye, annoyance replaces surprise. It’s not like he was about to back down, dammit, no need for misplaced glee. 

“Sure,” Jason nods and steps away from Slade to have more space, placing his fingers on the hilt of his still sheathed sword when he’s in position. 

Despite what Matthew said, they aren’t actually coming at him all three at once. At least not right from the beginning. Tiger is the first to come forward and Jason exchanges a couple careful blows with him. He’s been doing nothing but riding his horse for the past two weeks so he lets his body stretch and get used to holding a sword again. 

He doesn’t know if they’re intentionally allowing him this luxury, but he’s happy to take it. He’s not interested in impressing Tiger nor is he interested in ending this as fast as possible.

Matthew comes into his range, when Tiger steps back with a nod, and picks up the speed and strength a bit. Slade just keeps watching as they continue to switch and start to team up and escalate the fight. 

He tags in when the other two get him to actually move his feet quite a lot and watch his breathing. Without warning, Slade slides forward and Jason can only sidestep his strike while he’s occupied with blocking Matthew’s sword. 

From then on, Slade doesn’t seem interested in letting up even a little bit. Slade has great technique, but in addition to that he is strong. Stronger and faster than should be humanly possible. Not just a story then. 

Tiger laughs at his surprise, and Jason grits his teeth and goes all out after all. He gets the feeling that he wouldn’t do half bad against Slade on his own, but the other two are good and they know how to fight alongside Slade to be as annoying as possible. 

So eventually, he gets driven into a corner. But it takes time, and when Slade stops the fight, three of them are breathing heavily. Only Slade isn’t. 

Add inhuman stamina to Slade’s question marks, Jason notes to himself. 

“The puppy’s good at least,” Tiger comments before grinning at Jason. “One more round? One on one?” 

He nods, takes a deep breath and readies himself. He’s enjoying this more than he thought he would after seeing their initial disregard. Yes, it’s fun to prove a fool wrong, but a real duel is so much more gratifying. 

The fight begins much like the previous one with clean and straightforward sword fighting. Jason doesn’t bother trying to dictate the pace of it, he’s more interested in seeing what his opponent will willingly choose to do or reveal about himself. He does start to wonder though why Tiger proposed another fight when it’s mostly just a repetition of the previous one. 

Until he catches a glimpse of something metallic slipping out of his sleeve. Tiger suddenly closes in, takes two decisive steps right up to him, and Jason hits the dagger’s blade away from his abdomen before it can threaten to pierce his clothing. 

The move is so familiar that it catches him more off guard with confusion than it should have. His focus crumbles a little and he can’t do anything but react until he pulls himself together a few blows later. He misses Slade raising an eyebrow at his reaction. 

Tiger, on the other hand, is pleased with the reaction he got when he switched to fighting dirty and continues to throw in tricks. Jason grumbles internally but plays along and lets Tiger have the upper hand until he sees an easy opening and flips the fight. The opening was good enough that he has Tiger disarmed and his blade at his throat in no time. 

“A high born puppy that knows how to fight dirty? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday,” Tiger begins before Jason even lowers his sword. 

He flashes a grin full of teeth and steps away. 

“Even pretending to not be capable of it,” Matthew says with a shake of his head. 

Jason accepts the next challenge and fights Matthew one on one, too. It takes a while, but eventually one of the tricks he pulls gives him away. Just like the dagger-trick Tiger used. Jason almost wants to throw his damn sword at Matthew’s head mid-fight and confront Slade about what the hell he thinks he’s doing with people like that here. But he locks his jaw and doesn’t. Not yet. He keeps himself together and continues to learn as much as he can until they call it a day. 

The sun moved around the Red Keep and the courtyard is halfway covered in a shadow one of the towers throws. Matthew and Tiger excuse themselves, saying they still have duties to attend to for the rest of the day, and Jason is left alone with Slade. 

Jason sheathes his sword and finally lets his eyes find Slade’s for any length of time since he began sparring with the other two. He has words burning on his tongue, but he can’t say them out in the open. 

Slade seems infuriatingly calm. 

“You’re good,” he says, ignoring Jason’s heated frown. Jason’s about to open his mouth, but Slade sighs and pushes off the wall he was leaning against. “Follow me.”

Jason has no intention of letting this go, so he does. Slade leads them into the castle and through corridors, where they come across less and less people, until he opens a hidden door, and they step onto a barely lit flight of stairs that leads both up, further into the castle, and down, into the ground. They walk down until they reach the bottom of the stairs and get to a dark, entirely empty room, or maybe a cave, that has several doors and tunnels leading out of it. 

“Where-?”

Slade interrupts him. “You have League training,” he says almost casually, as if it isn’t a huge fucking deal and as if Jason can’t see the intrigue on his face. 

“Don’t say that out loud,” he hisses. 

“You can talk freely here,” Slade says, still sounding interested and far too nonchalant. 

“Alright,” Jason takes a breath. This is what he needed to get off his chest. He glares at Slade with fire in his eyes. “I have League training? So what?! Why would that be of any importance to you? They have League training! Two members of the heavensdamned Kingsguard were trained by the League of Assassins at least temporarily! What are you thinking?” 

Slade calmly crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “Yes, they do have that kind of training.” 

“If you know about the League’s existence, you also know how dangerous they are. Not only when it comes to the way they teach fighting, but also how much they care about loyalty. They brainwash their fighters! Why would anybody who’s had contact with the League be allowed around the King? Once you’re one of them, there’s no coming back from it!” 

“Then how did you learn their craft without being one of them?”

Jason frowns at him, taken aback. He wonders if he should lie. “Unique circumstances.”

“That’s not enough for me.” Slade actually does seem more interested in Jason’s story than in Jason’s concerns. It’s infuriating. 

“How much do you know about the League?”, Jason grits out. 

“Everything but the secrets Ra’s keeps in the family.” 

Jason glares at him. Slade knows how to have this conversation. Anybody, who knows Ra’s’ name, has proper knowledge of the League and isn’t going off whispers and myths. And anybody, who knows about family secrets, was in close contact with them. Jason shudders, thinking what that contact might’ve been.

The more Slade says, the more Jason puts his guard up.

“How do you know that?”

Slade snorts. “The same way your father knows just as much. Was he the one who taught you?”

Jason hesitates, then shakes his head. “Do you know who Damian’s mother is?”

“Yes.”

“She visits every now and again and likes teaching her son the ways of her family. She’s fond of me and I like to join them.” Slade hums, seemingly considering something unpleasant. “That’s how I can be sure that my brother and I know the craft but aren’t brainwashed. As I said, our situation is unique. How would you know that the same applies to those two?”

“I was the one that taught them,” Slade simply states. 

Jason stares at him unbelieving. 

“Are you one of them? Is that why father doesn’t trust you?”

“I’m not. I told you, I know them like your father does.” 

Bruce hasn’t told him much, but he does know that his contact with the League was somewhat unusual as well. Ra’s brought him in to secretly train him as his successor, which is why his training was very different from the one their assassins go through. It’s also the reason why Bruce was able to actually leave the League. In a way that didn’t require dying. 

“So, like my father, you pretended to play along to be trained by them?”, he asks. Slade nods. “What for? To study the most dangerous shadow clan in the world like he did? I doubt that.” 

Slade’s eye bores through him, but his words remain casual. “No, not like him. For fun. I was bored.” 

Heavens. 

“You’re insane,” Jason murmurs, forgetting to breathe. 

“Perhaps, but I make sure to always either know what I’m doing or to know what risks I’m taking. Do you?”, Slade says, a grave look settling on his face for the first time today. Jason waits for him to continue, confusion slightly pulling his eyebrows together. “The League assassins won’t touch the Al Ghul kid, but you’re an outsider learning their techniques. If Matthew and Tiger were indeed League members, they might’ve caught on to you knowing things you’re not supposed to. Bruce and I are known inside the League, and we’re able to handle ourselves in case a young fool who doesn’t know better comes after us, but are you?”

“What do you think? You just saw me fight,” Jason says, half challenging spite, half genuinely wanting to know his opinion. 

“You’re good. Really fucking good. Better than what you showed today probably and better than most of the fighters the League trains. That doesn’t mean you’d survive every single fight against them, especially if it isn’t one on one,” Slade says slowly and just stares. “Are you aware of that risk?”

“I am. That scenario is less likely than you think. Talia adores me and thanks to her I have a similar kind of immunity as my brother. But I do know that it’s no guarantee.” Jason scoffs. “And don’t feign concern. You did the same goddamn thing. Do the two of them even know what you taught them?”

The corner of Slade’s mouth twists in annoyance for a moment. “No. I didn’t tell them.”

“That’s dangerous. As you said, the League doesn’t take kindly to outsiders using their tricks.”

“They know how to handle themselves. Even more so now that they have those tricks. Most League assassins aren’t a match for them. And-” 

Jason refuses to listen to him any longer. Fuck Slade. That’s-

“Exactly what I said!”, Jason hisses.

“Your situations are completely different,” Slade sneers back. “Those two committed their life to fight and die for the crown over a decade ago. I don’t care how good you are, that you picked up a sword as soon as you could walk, that Bruce is not only your father but also your teacher and he probably hired the best people he could get to teach his sons. You might be a better fighter than those two are, but it doesn’t matter! They know for whom, for what and how they’re risking their life. You don’t.” 

Jason opens his mouth to disagree, but Slade doesn’t stop. “I know there are things you would die for. I’m not questioning that conviction. If you die protecting your family, you would perhaps even die without regrets. But don’t take unnecessary risks if you haven’t even figured out what you’re living for. You’re young, you’re a Lord’s second son, you’re in an unfamiliar city amongst unfamiliar people. Know the risks you’re taking and why you’re taking them.”

Jason doesn’t want to argue against something that Slade is apparently so ridiculously set on. It’s not that he can’t see the sense in calculating risks or, Bruce’s favorite pastime, making plans for too many what-ifs. He does it, too, he’s just not as obsessed with it and sometimes he just can’t be bothered to care. He has plenty of faith in his improvisations. 

“I’m not as reckless as everyone apparently thinks I am,” he just says, annoyed. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re as careful as you should be,” Slade stresses. “And apart from that… It’s not a coincidence that I gave members of the Kingsguard the tools to deal with League assassins. That was a very deliberate choice.” 

Oh. 

“I see.” 

That’s somewhat fair, Jason supposes. He looks over Slade who’s still leaning against the wall. He hasn’t actually moved much, his intensity completely is conveyed by uncanny stillness seemingly ready to snap at any moment. His eye never lost its iciness even as he lectured Jason on whatever it is he’s so ardent about. 

Jason, on the other hand, feels wrung out by the whole ‘there might be League assassins around us’ thing. 

He sighs and props himself up against the wall to his back, not letting go of his scowl just yet. 

“Do you actually give a damn about what you said?”, Jason asks. “You’re not known for being particularly careful. Sounds a little like the dragon preaching to the sheep.” 

Slade regards him thoroughly and Jason wonders what he sees, besides the obvious curiosity. 

“It’s foolish to take risks you don’t understand or can’t handle the consequences of. It just so happens that I usually either know that I can handle them well enough or I don’t care even if I can’t.” 

“So you’re not like those two? Not willing to risk your life for a grand reason like saving the King’s life but willing to do it for other things, things that you do just for fun? Like spying on the damned League of Assassins?” 

“Basically. And why would I do that for Kal?”, Slade scoffs. “He’s basically invincible.“

“Huh?”

“Sooner or later you’ll learn a couple of the secrets of House El, and maybe House Kane if it becomes relevant because of me, so I might as well tell you.” 

“What?”, Jason asks dumbfounded. 

“Els are hard to kill. It used to be almost impossible, but this inheritance weakened since coming from Valyria to Westeros. Still, if you want to kill them, you need to be either really fucking tenacious or have the right knowledge. Something the League does have.” 

Jason ignores all his blaring what-the-heavens questions and asks a useful one. “Then why weren’t they discussed at the meeting yesterday?” 

“Because we don’t even know if a single League assassin is in King’s Landing at the moment. They always have spies here, though, and Bruce is familiar with them. He will definitely look into it,” Slade shrugs and gives him a once over. “And now I get why he didn’t want to mention it in front of you and Damian specifically.” 

“I don’t like this,” Jason says grimly. 

“Bruce knows what he’s doing.”

“Still,” he says and watches Slade nod in understanding with resignation. 

Slade pushes off the wall. “You should get ready for the feast tonight.” 

Jason sighs. “I suppose there are some social events even Bruce can’t escape. And thus we can’t either.”

“It didn’t look like you considered it a chore in Winterfell. I take it that this is different.” Slade starts walking up the stairs and Jason follows him. 

“It is. We do have feasts for courtesy’s sake, but the one before we left was just as much for family and court.” 

Slade throws him a look over his shoulder. “The Lords and Ladies who attend these feasts have all kinds of intentions. If you find yourself a companion, you might get to enjoy your time here.” 

“That sounds quite a lot like matchmaking,” Jason says with a raised eyebrow. 

“Absolutely not. I’m saying have fun if you want to.” 

Jason snorts. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t even know what King’s Landing has to offer yet,” Slade says before pushing the hidden door open and dropping the conversation. 

“I don’t need to,” Jason mumbles and follows him out into the hallways. 

Chapter Text

It’s late afternoon when Jason returns to his quarters. He was asked to be ready for the welcoming banquet before the sun starts to set, which is still quite early in spring, even so far in the south, so he hurries to wash the sweat off his skin and redress. 

He sets aside his well worn riding clothes, that are just as well fitted for practicing sword fighting with their looseness that allows for big movements and his skin to breathe, as well as their slightly stronger than usual thickness, a little padding to lessen the annoyance of bruises, and how comfortable they are on his skin and to move in. 

Jason exchanges those for the best set of clothing he brought with him. Still, he certainly won’t impress anyone highborn in King’s Landing with his clothes. At first glance, it’s really only a little finer and newer looking than his other good clothes. Upon giving this set a proper look one might notice that his vest is hugging his fine shirt flawlessly to his skin. His pants are neither wide nor digging into his skin, his boots are a little too rigid to comfortably fight or ride with and everything is in a deep dark black, carefully not washed out. 

If someone was to pay attention to the silver embellishments worked into his clothing, they would see subtle patterns weaved into his vest, wolves howling on his shoulders, clasps that mimic wolves tumbling together when they’re closed and the buttons decorating his boots and belts being wolf heads. 

On days like this, Jason counts himself lucky that he shares his family’s love for the animals. They’re the only personal ornaments he ever wears. When he was young, they had to be reattached quite often because he kept fiddling with his clasps and buttons at formal banquets he didn’t yet know how to simply let them pass by. 

Sitting in his new quarters at his table and looking out to the sea, he waits for the knock on his door he expects shortly and reminisces. 

It’s not his first time seeing a horizon where the sky and the sea meet, but it’s rare enough that he never got used to it. It pulls him in and makes him yearn for something. Just like those days where the lands around Winterfell or the depth of the sky feel never ending. The endlessness begs to be explored but he is tethered to the ground, to the castle, to his family in all but his thoughts. 

The knocking pulls him back down to earth. He hooks his sword to his belt and straightens his vest before joining his father and Damian on their way to the throne room which will be filled with celebrations tonight. 

As the guests this feast is thrown for, they’re the last to arrive. Two servants heave open the heavy doors to the throne room and announce their presence to the hall. They’re greeted formally by the King in front of a murmuring crowd. The murmurs grow louder when the King offers Damian the seat next to a beaming Jon on the right end of the long table while Bruce and Jason sit to the King’s left side. 

The seat on the left end, next to Jason, stays empty even as dinner is served, making him frown at the set plate and cup. He shrugs it off and focuses on the crowded hall in front of him instead. 

None of the faces he sees are familiar, but that’s why he doesn’t mind being expected to attend this feast all that much. He can pass his time by getting to know faces, and he can learn a lot from people’s reactions and interactions with one another. Even the way they’re dressed, who imitates the King’s or the Queen’s style or who wears opposing colors to them. Some people make statements, some give themselves away too easily, some try to hard to blend in. Winterfell never looked this colorful. The politics of King’s Landing are so different to the ones he grew up in the middle of.

The evening will neither be too boring nor for naught. 

The King stands gracefully and asks everyone to enjoy the feast with a pleasant smile and the noise in the room rises as everyone starts eating and chattering. 

The sheer volume of it matches Winterfell’s hall, but it’s a different kind of noise and can only match because the hall is bigger and more people are in attendance. Winterfell’s sound is more cheerful, there’s more hearty laughter and more innocent and delighted giggles. Here, he hears more hushed comments, fake laughter mixed into the genuine and the giggles that aren’t innocent or coquettish tend to sound nasty. 

He’s enjoying listening to the music, which incorporates instruments he’s never heard before, much more, and to his amusement he spots Matthew and Tiger standing guard in a corner behind the throne, this time dressed in armor.

When he’s halfway through his food, he notices someone stepping out of the shadows in the corner of his eye. He’s aware of the door and Matthew and Tiger’s close proximity to it, so he dismisses it. 

That is, until he notices it’s Slade when he steps to the King’s side and whispers something to him. 

This interaction is the first thing that makes him genuinely curious this evening, the socialites of the nobles have been rather uneventful so far, but he knows that he won’t get to hear what was said between King and King’s guard. Such matters will be deemed beyond his concern as long as he’s neither a member of the Kingsguard nor in Bruce’s position. 

To his surprise, Slade doesn’t disappear back into the shadows after he nods at whatever Kal tells him, but walks past Jason instead and sits down at the empty place next to him. 

“Miss me?”, Slade asks when Jason pays attention for a moment too long. 

Jason scoffs and directs his gaze back to watching the hall. But Slade remains in the corner of his eye, sitting at the side of the table. He can’t help dragging his eyes across Slade’s clothing just once. Maybe he doesn’t even want to resist. He hates that he can’t find another way to describe it, but Slade looks gorgeous. 

Now, in contrast to the whole court wearing elaborate and colorful shirts and dresses made of such flimsy fabric that they need coats and shawls to keep warm in the mildly chilly evening, he notices for the first time how much the way Slade dresses stands out. Or how much his black form fitting and thick clothes fit in with the way Damian, his father and himself are dressed. 

His clothes are cut simply yet without fault, made out of incredibly fine material and adorned with golden dragons and woven patterns. They remind Jason of the sturdy leather clothing the dragon riders wear when flying. 

“If you don’t pay attention to the ones throwing you glances, they’ll lose interest,” Slade says, even though he’s seemingly only focused on his food. 

“Good.”

“Ouch, poor them.” 

“That’s not-“, Jason sighs, not knowing how to explain his discomfort. 

He doesn’t hate advances, not all of them, but right now he doesn’t have the mind for it. It would be easier for him if no one even becomes interested. 

“Maybe you should entertain it,” his father suddenly says next to him. “Meet people and spend time with whoever you like to get your mind off things.” 

Jason gapes at him. 

“Please don’t start matchmaking for my sake,” he begs. “You don’t need to find entertainment for me. I’m busy enough with Slade.” 

Bruce clicks his tongue, not needing to say that they both know he didn’t mean it like that. 

“Are you going to tell me how you spend your day today?”, Jason asks the question deliberately innocent sounding. 

“No. You and Damian don’t need to concern yourself with my boring court responsibilities.” 

So he really does want to keep them out of it. 

“Okay, but I need to tell you something,” Jason says without intending to continue. When we’re alone, he implies. 

“We’ll do it later.” 

Of course, Bruce understands. Jason nods. 

“You really didn’t do much interesting stuff today,” Slade says with a raised eyebrow at him. 

Apparently, the matter of the League really is settled for him. 

Jason frowns at him. “Why don’t you concern yourself with your own matchmaking instead?”

Slade snorts. “What for? I’m not desirable to noble women. I’m a bastard and a member of the Kingsguard. Kind of.” 

Jason glances at a Lady who’s thrown Slade looks since he arrived. He wonders if Slade actually doesn’t notice. He doesn’t think that’s possible. 

“Well, you don’t act like it. Like neither,” Jason comments and continues with a straight face, “And there will always be a special kind of interest in rich old people. Especially those who don’t seem to have much time left. Though, I suppose you don’t look anywhere close to that yet.” 

Bruce shoots him a look, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of the corner of his mouth.

Slade, to Jason’s dismay, looks amused. “They’d have a hell of a surprise waiting for them.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past you to go along with it just so you could gleefully watch them despair at their plan failing,” Bruce says drily. 

Jason throws a confused look at the two of them but doesn’t ask. 

“I’d probably live longer than they would hope for. Much longer,” Slade vaguely tells him. 

Now Jason does want to ask, but, before he can, Kal stands and asks the musicians to play something his guests might dance to. The music grows more cheerful and the first pairs meet in the middle of the hall and garner applause that raises the volume even further. 

“You sure you don’t want to dance?”, Slade asks. 

He’s leaning towards him and barely speaking loud enough that Jason can hear. 

“It’s not one of my preferred pastimes, no,” he says. “Then again, I’m surprised you’re even attending.”

“You’re right. I usually don’t.” 

“Then why?”

“Unique circumstances,” Slade mimics him. 

Jason’s eyes leave the crowd to find the slightest grin on Slade’s cheek. “Don’t fuck with me,” he scoffs quietly. 

“Such a tone in the presence of the King’s family,” Slade clicks his tongue. 

“So? What for?”, he asks again and follows Slade’s look to the King just in time to see Kal roll his eyes at Slade. 

He couldn’t have heard them, could he? And is that Slade’s answer? He’s here to protect Kal’s life if need be?

“I thought you said not to worry.”

Slade’s eye snaps back to him and finds him furrowing his brows a little. “Oh, no. That’s not what I meant by that. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

Jason’s eyes widen in surprise before he regains his composure. “Don’t fuck with me,” he hisses again and hides his face behind his cup until it’s empty. 

Belatedly, he realizes that the wine in King’s Landing is much sweeter than the one at home. He licks the taste off his lips and frowns in distaste. 

Slade watches him for a moment too long before relaxing into his seat and turning towards the hall. 

“So is there anyone who caught your eye?”

Jason almost wants to roll his eyes and quip back, but he gets the feeling that it’s a genuine question this time. Slade wants to know if he finds anyone suspicious. 

“A few. Some seem uninteresting and some seem to be able to hide their own interests quite well.” So far Jason mostly agrees with who Slade thinks is harmless or who’s better at this game than the rest. “Some seem a little unpleasant.” 

As in downright creepy. Like the Lord of House Falcone or the Ladies of House Cain and House Isley. 

“Lady Cain’s daughter may be a good fit, don’t you think?”, Slade says easily, sounding almost bored, as if he isn’t currently accusing someone of being capable of the murder. “You’d be shocked by how she’d react to your fight against Matthew and Tiger today.” 

Jason shoots him a surprised look. The Cains’ daughter has League training? 

“Slade,” Bruce says grimly. “Don’t involve my son in your schemes.” Of course he would notice what’s going on. The look he gives Jason is sympathetic but firm. “I asked you to keep your eyes open, nothing more.” 

“And that’s what I’m doing. I promise I won’t do anything foolish,” Jason tries to pacify him to hopefully avoid a lecture. 

And it’s not a lie. He vowed to himself to not go after any clues he might find on his own. Only if he has no other choice. And the most important thing right now is collecting information. He can be smart about that. 

“Remember our deal?”, Bruce asks quietly under the noise of the hall, leaning in to kiss him on the temple. “You don’t try to prove yourself and I ask for help when I need it.”

Jason grins. It’s been years since he felt the need to prove himself to Bruce, and even longer since he wanted to prove himself to strangers. But he doesn’t really feel obligated to tell Bruce, as long as it means Bruce keeps his own end of the deal. 

“Slade,” Bruce requests quietly. 

“I’d know if he does,” Slade nods. 

Jason doesn’t mind Bruce asking Slade to keep an eye on him all that much. He figured that came along with sticking around him and the Kingsguard anyway. And he’s fairly sure that he can get away from Slade. If that’s even necessary. Slade doesn’t seem as set on keeping him out of everything as Bruce does. 

He shifts in his seat a little when he comes to the realization that he wouldn’t be opposed to Slade watching over him and tagging along if he does have to do something a little dangerous. 

“Just don’t be annoying about it,” he warns Slade. 

“Jason,” Bruce chides his choice of words. 

But Jason can tell that it’s halfhearted at best. Bruce probably knows that Slade prefers speaking improperly as well. 

Sure enough, his next words drip with sarcasm. “I do not mind, Lord Wayne.” 

“Tell me about our plans for the upcoming days,” Jason suggests to steer the conversation towards something useful.

“I’ll come find you in the late morning, either at breakfast or in your room, then you can accompany me until dinner, or until I’m done with my duties. I do spend plenty of time in the training courtyard, and you can learn a lot there, but accompanying me into the city, to attend some of Kal’s meetings and audiences, or meeting the people I’m meeting might teach you a useful thing or two as well,” Slade says, lazily chewing on some nougat. But when he turns his head to look at Jason, he can tell that there’s more he’s not mentioning right now by the glint of Slade’s eye. Then, he turns to Bruce. “Maybe the Hand will let you accompany me to some of the Small Council meetings even.”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll have to ask the King, but I can vouch for his character and trustworthiness after all,” Bruce smiles at Jason before shooting Slade a look. “Not that I expect every member in the Council to possess these two traits.” 

“A truce, Bruce. We agreed on a truce,” Slade sighs, deeply uncaring. 

Bruce huffs but turns to Kal, when he asks if he heard Bruce mention him, and ignores Slade. 

Jason raises an amused eyebrow at Slade but doesn’t comment. 

“Your father really knows how to hold a grudge,” Slade grumbles. 

“That’s a story I’d love to hear.”

“You wouldn’t. Not while he’s sitting next to you,” Slade simply says. 

Now he has to know. 

It’s almost midnight when the festivities start to dissolve and House Wayne and House El retire to their quarters. Bruce already disappeared to his room before Jason remembers that he has something to tell him. 

He hurries to go after him, but a hand on his arm stops him. He wants to shake it off, but it’s firm and most people in castles don’t appreciate being dismissed. Depending on who it is, the consequences might be unpleasant, so he turns around to excuse himself. 

“I told you he already knows,” Slade says on the stairs behind him when Jason meets his eye. 

“Huh?” 

Slade takes the next two steps until he’s standing only one step below him and just has to lean forward to quietly talk directly into his ear. 

“He knows as well as I do that the Cains have strong ties to the Al Ghuls. So don’t bother.” 

Jason hopes his grim expression hides the shiver traveling down his spine. But Slade still has his hand on his arm so he can’t hope for much. 

He grits his teeth and nods, and Slade lets go. As long as his father knows that, he’ll be cautious about the League. That’s something Jason can be sure of. 

“Go to bed, it’s late,” Slade says, still standing so close that Jason can feel the warmth of his body. “Unless you want to spend time with the young lady lingering at the bottom of the stairs who hopes you saw her? Or the boy in the shadows?”

“I did see her. And him.”

“Oh?”, Slade’s gaze darkens. “Will you go?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to teach you how to convey a no without talking to someone?”

Jason scoffs. “I know how.”

Slade’s eye flashes to life. “You do have experience.”

“Did you expect something else?”

“It was more about options than expectations.”

Jason regrets not stepping out of Slade’s proximity when just his fingers were tingling. Now, it’d feel like a forced retreat. One he isn’t interested in in the slightest. Now, it’d feel like backing down. Now, he can’t move, wrapped in Slade’s presence as he is. 

“If you know how to, why didn’t you?”

Maybe, because he wanted to see what would happen after all those comments Slade kept making. If he was all talk. If he was just having fun. Or if he meant something by it. 

“I discouraged them enough,” Jason shrugs, pleased with the result of his little experiment. “Once I’m alone and they see me retreat to my quarters, they’ll leave.” 

Slade watches him with darkness in his gaze and a glint dancing around his estimating eye like a star. 

“Jason Wayne, second son of House Wayne,” Slade says slowly, “Who taught you to play games?”

“My brother, the heir,” Jason specifies. 

It sends a truly unpleasant chill down his spine. Noble ancestry and descent and being born, living and dying by its rules always had a bittersweet flavor to it in Jason’s eyes. 

He barely retreats from Slade but he notices immediately. 

“Perhaps, I should go to my quarters and let those two go to their own,” he says by way of cheap explanation. 

Slade nods, accepting it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Jason stops him before Slade steps past him. There’s something he’s been meaning to ask. “When’s the best time to leave the city for a while?” 

When they arrived in King’s Landing, they left Jason’s and Damian’s direwolves in the forest just outside the city. The wolves are more comfortable in the forests surrounding King’s Landing than in the castle where they’d have to avoid easily frightened southerners. They can take care of themselves and don’t require daily visits, but neither Jason nor Ny like being separated for more than a few days, which is why they brought their wolves along in the first place. 

“It’s most convenient in the evening or when we have business in the city during the day. We’ll find opportunities,” Slade assures. 

“Thank you,” Jason sighs. 

Slade nods and disappears into the darkness of the castle. Jason follows. 

Chapter Text

“Ser Roy and Ser Kyle”, Slade introduces two young knights when they make it to the training grounds in the morning. 

Jason nods, taking in their confident stance, rough hands and the stark contrast between Kyle’s deep black and Roy’s bright red hair as well as their skin tones. Roy is probably always walking the line between pale and sunburnt, he thinks, silently amused. 

Slade turns to them and continues his rather brief introductions. “Jason, son of Lord Wayne.” 

Kyle snorts. “You’re back for a day and you already found your next victim, huh? Why do we always gotta watch you beat some Lord’s kid’s ass?” 

Jason raises a skeptical eyebrow at him but waits to see whatever Slade came here to do. Roy seems more interested in that as well, but he has to suppress a smile at his friend’s question. 

“He’ll be sticking to me as if he’s my own shadow so you kids might as well make your acquaintance,” Slade explains, dropping the pretense of formality. 

“And how much did you get paid for you to put up with that?”, Kyle mocks. 

Slade flicks his forehead so fast that Kyle has no time react. This time Roy actually laughs while Kyle curses. 

“You still don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.” 

“Kyle’s not too fond of nobility,” Roy shrugs his shoulders in a way of explanation at Jason. 

“He sure knows how to talk shit about someone who could beat his ass any day,” Jason grins at Kyle, who’s still rubbing his forehead. 

Roy makes a face and Kyle angrily narrows his eyes at him. Ah, digging into someone can be so satisfying. 

“You want to settle this fast?” Slade looks to Jason. “Fight two on one.”

Slade evidently agrees with Jason’s assessment. 

“Sure,” Jason nods. 

Kyle huffs with annoyance, Roy beams in delight and they accept the challenge. Slade steps back, and Jason waits for Kyle to draw his sword before he does the same. 

Unlike yesterday, he wrestles for control over the fight as soon as he’s confident about his read on the two of them. They’re good. They’re well trained and they must’ve fought together a lot. It’s not easy to disarm them both, but it doesn’t take all that long either. He hits Roy cleanly on the wrist and gets him to drop his sword on reflex. Roy is forced to tag out, and Jason has his sword to Kyle’s throat and his sword hand fixed behind his back soon after. 

He’s satisfied with the rhythm and grace of the spar but also aware that a battle to the death would never happened like this. Roy didn’t even try to join back into the fight after he lost his main weapon. 

It doesn’t make for very good practice. He can pull of clean techniques and fighting that looks more like a form of dancing any day. It’s seared into his being by now. What he wants is a true challenge. 

When he glances to the side, he sees Slade stare at them contemplatively. 

“You guys worried about maiming a Lord’s son or something? Don’t be,” he says, frowning slightly. “Especially not with him.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jason snorts, even though he’s not entirely sure if Slade meant that they wouldn’t be able do it or that they simply shouldn’t care about doing it. 

“You were right,” Slade tells Jason before he looks at Kyle. “He can beat your ass any day. I know your specialty is planning and mapping things out and Roy’s is bow and arrow. That doesn’t mean you can’t still end up dying in a sword fight.”

Jason doesn’t feel the need to mention that he’s been studying those two things since he was a child as well. At least not yet. Maybe they can compare techniques or learn something from each other once they’re not total strangers anymore. 

Jason isn’t entirely sure what role Slade occupies in the cogs that drive the everyday life in King’s Landing, but there’s clearly quite a few people who value his words. 

From then on, Kyle and Roy start actually fighting like their lives depend on it. 

Jason keeps his fighting as clean as he can to challenge himself, but resorts to dirty tricks to win a duel more than once. It’s fine practice and he starts to enjoy it. The two of them are good enough that all three are breathing hard by noon. 

“Not too bad.” Slade steps between them and stops them from picking up their swords once again. The fire in Jason’s eyes is still equally matched by his two opponents. Slade looks at the two knights. “Don’t forget this feeling. Take a break and continue this later if you have time.”

“See you around,” Roy smiles at Jason, which has Kyle rolling his eyes, before the two of them disappear into a side wing of the castle. 

“They’re good,” Jason says, sheathing his sword. 

“I know,” Slade says thoughtfully and cocks his head. 

He looks like he has something to say about the fight, and Jason waits for his comments on his technique that don’t come. Jason narrows his eyes at him. 

“I don’t know why everyone listens to you, but if you want me to learn, you should do or at least say something about it.” 

A daring grin flashes across Slade’s face. 

“Are you sure it’s enough if I just do something?”

“My father always taught us like that when it came to combat. I’m decent at picking up on things other people show me, but I won’t know until you try, will I?”

Slade unsheathes his sword and shifts his stance to appear light on his feet “Then come at me. You can go all out, we don’t have much time. We need to go down into the city soon.”

Intrigued, Jason pulls his sword out and, for the first time, puts his all into a fight right from the beginning. He knows he won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t. 

He’s seen Slade fight yesterday, he’s fought him briefly, he’s seen the way he carries himself and how he watches people. And he’s impressed by all of it. Slade truly is one of the best fighters Jason has ever had the fortune of meeting. Few people could match him. 

So when Slade finally presses his sword to Jason’s throat and wolfishly grins at him but a few inches in front of his face, he grins right back. He held out for a long time, he’s probably given Slade a couple bruises and Slade looks as focused on his opponent as Jason does. 

“Heavens, you’re good,” Jason breathes out before Slade can even remove the blade from his neck. 

The sharp metal scratching against his skin when his throat moves to form the words feels downright exhilarating. 

“That’s all you have to say?”, Slade asks lowly, watching Jason’s skin scrape over the edge of his sword when he swallows. 

As if he can’t see how impressed Jason truly is. 

“That’s all you said yesterday, too.”

Slade’s eye slowly trails over his face. “I’m still trying to get a read on you.”

“Likewise.” Jason pauses. “Keep watching me then” 

Slade snorts and pulls his sword away from Jason’s neck. “C’mon. We’re going into the city.” 

Jason doesn’t know why it’s part of their schedule, but he figures he’ll find out soon enough. 

They leave through the heavily guarded gate and the disciplined busyness of the castle abruptly shifts into the chaotic bustle of the city. Unlike Winterfell, where the ‘city’ is an extension of the castle, the Red Keep and King’s Landing are entirely separated. 

Slade steps off the main street soon and leads them through narrow streets and alleyways. But if Jason’s sense of direction isn’t fooling him, they don’t veer far from the main street. 

“Your choice in fighting style is very odd”, Slade comments, when they’re walking through an empty alley. “It’s prettier than expected. Did you get that from your brother?”

Jason looks at him annoyed. “It’s not that I want it to be pretty. I want to fight cleanly for as long as I can afford to.”

“Why? Fighting dirty from the beginning is faster. And in most cases less risky,” Slade says, sounding genuinely interested. 

“I don’t disagree with your style. But starting clean gives me something to fall back on when things get desperate. As long as I’m still fighting with no trouble, I know that I’m not cornered.” 

It’s a simple trick he uses to keep his wits about him, which is easier when he’s not at the end of the rope.

“So you choose your style with a last resort in mind?” 

“Yes. Father’s influence perhaps,” Jason shrugs. 

“How often did you get into a situation where you were pushed towards the edge and fought for your life with a foot half off the cliff?” 

Jason pauses and studies Slade’s expression for a moment. Is Slade trying to evaluate his strategy or asking if he can fight for his life with teeth and nails? Jason can’t read his face. 

“It’s happened. About a dozen times maybe.”

“It’s easier to mess up when you’re fighting messy,” Slade states. 

Jason shoots him a confused look and finds Slade giving him a once over. His back straightens a little on instinct. What is he trying to evaluate him for now? Slade already saw him fight. 

“Exactly. So I’m reducing that risk for as long as I can.”

“That’s not what I mean. You cling to sparring neatly in practice for as long as you can, too, when you should practice fighting dirty as often as you can. Mistakes and slip ups are common when fighting messily or when you’re cornered, and they’re easier to survive if you practice them.” 

Jason stops, frowning and thinking about how to remedy that oversight. Before he can open his mouth, Slade’s hand finds the small of his back and urges him to keep walking. 

“Conversations in King’s Landing are best not had in a single spot if you want to keep someone from hearing it in full,” Slade says quietly, leaning in a little before he straightens back up.

Jason nods, conscious of Slade’s hand slipping away from his back. He shakes his head to focus. 

“I’m purposefully sparring upright for as long as possible in practice,” Jason begins after a moment. “By doing that, I can hold out longer and won’t turn to my last resort before I strictly have to when I get into an actual fight. It doesn’t make sense to practice that part halfheartedly.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Slade agrees. 

Jason watches Slade thoughtfully. “I’d need opponents that can actually force me into fighting dirty.”

“Like me,” Slade says, blue eye finding Jason’s and glinting even in the shadow of the alleyway. 

“If you’re so concerned, this would be the best time to knock me down on my ass as often as you can, right?”, Jason grins. 

Slade’s gaze turns amused. “I’d enjoy that.”

“Let’s see, if you can keep up with my father,” Jason laughs. 

In truth, Bruce and him are almost an equal match now, and eventually Jason will start winning their spars more and more. Bruce still has much more experience, but he’s almost three decades older than Jason and it’s starting to show during the fight and not only in how well and fast they recover afterwards. 

“I’m not Bruce,” Slade warns. 

He thinks Jason doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. And maybe he’s right. They’re supposed to be around the same age, but Jason hasn’t seen Slade’s stamina deplete even once. Not like Bruce’s does sometimes. As to why that is, Slade stays perfectly vague. 

“Are you ever gonna tell me what that’s supposed to mean?”, Jason asks, slightly irritated. 

“Yes,” Slade nods once and the weight in his expression makes his heart stop for a moment. 

Jason doesn’t notice how caught up he is in the conversation until Slade steps into a town square and the noises of the city come crashing back into his consciousness. He shakes Slade’s intensity off and quickly goes back to watching his surroundings. 

Slade heads straight for a tavern across the square that seems busy even in the middle of the day. The door is open and they enter a simple looking room packed with tables and benches and chairs of which half a dozen are occupied. The men are cluttered near the counter for the shortest route to a new jug of beer leaving the right side of the room empty. Slade slides onto a bench in the far corner as if he’s done it a hundred times before. 

“How long have you been in King’s Landing?”, Jason asks, taking the other side of the corner. 

It’s fairly dark in here, but it’s not dark enough that Slade wouldn’t be recognizable without any kind of disguise to cover his snow-white hair, which he clearly didn’t bother with. 

Slade seems to consider if he should even answer. Perhaps Jason should refrain from asking questions like this in places that can be listened in on. But then again, he doesn’t know King’s Landing well enough to know any secure places. Slade on the other hand seems to have it all figured out. Which is exactly his point. 

“About three months,” Slade says. So he was here even before the previous Hand died, but still, that isn’t a long time at all. “But I’ve been here a lot over the course of my life.”

Jason nods. That makes sense. Slade knows this city too well to be a rare guest. Which begs the question, why they’re in this tavern and not any other. Jason doubts it’s without plan or meaning. 

It doesn’t take long for a girl to come take their order. 

“Hello, love,” Slade smiles, and Jason has to keep his surprise at the put on pleasant attitude in check. 

“We’ve missed our best customer,” she smiles back. 

There’s definitely a lie and a question in there. Which is natural for a barmaid’s comment of this kind. But she seems to actually expect an answer, which is strange enough to make Jason pay closer attention. Slade didn’t seem interested in her, but maybe there’s more to the two of them after all. But why would he need to put on an act then?

“Well, I’m not saying that I’m not grateful to the King for paying me for a few humble services, but he really could’ve handled this trip to the north alone,” Slade laughs. He shakes his head and continues to lie to her with amused ease. “He seemed to be under the impression that I was as good a friend to Wayne as he is.” 

Slade makes no indication that he’s going to include Jason in this conversation or that he’s going to mention who he is, so Jason decides to act uninvolved. 

“I’m sure he meant well,” the girl placates. 

Slade hums. “What about you? I see nothing has changed.” 

“It hasn’t. It’s still the same old people around here,” she says. Perhaps Slade asked her to keep an eye on people coming and going in King’s Landing. “The same as usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“And for your… friend?” For the first time, she dares to really look at him. 

Jason wonders who exactly she thinks he is. 

“The same,” Jason says, careful to not let a laugh slip. 

She nods and Jason frowns after her until she disappears into the back of the tavern. He didn’t expect to meet someone who seems be more comfortable with Slade than himself. Even people who know Slade tend to be at least wary of him. 

Jason leans over to him. “Is that why you asked me to pick clothes without wolf emblems? To keep my identity a secret?”, he whispers into his ears. 

Slade turns his head, suddenly his eye is far too close and his breath hits Jason neck. “If you do something like this, at least have the decency to blush and giggle a little.” 

Jason bites his lip to keep himself from cursing him out and tries to pull back, but Slade grabs his upper arm and holds him close. 

“To answer your question: yes, that’s the reason.” 

Slade lets go and Jason can’t help swearing under his breath a little. He doesn’t mind hiding his identity, loves it even, but he’s also not fond of the role Slade is implying. Though he supposes that this time it’s on himself. 

“They’ll know. Eventually,” Jason dismisses. 

Probably sooner rather than later. He can’t imagine that none of the spy networks that must be at work in the capital will figure out who Slade eats with and where his companion’s quarters are. Not if Slade is that careful about them. 

“That’s alright,” Slade says, as the girl comes back with two jugs of beer, and adds slyly, “I don’t mind being found out.” 

Jason elbows him in the ribs and thanks the girl when she hurries to set the jugs down on the table and disappears with red ears. He snorts in amusement, but the looks some of the other guests give them annoy him. 

“Do they want something or are you just that charming?”, he mutters irritated. 

Slade glances at him, his jug already raised to his lips. “For once, I don’t think this is about me.” 

“Are all people around here that welcoming?”

“I suppose I could show you… friendlier parts of the city,” Slade says dangerously provocative. 

Jason snorts. “Get to know a man first, would you?” 

The girl shows up again with two bowls of soup and bread and Jason doesn’t get to hear Slade’s direct answer. To his surprise, he feels that that’s kind of a pity. 

“How often have you played this game?” 

Jason takes another bite, slowly chewing and watching Slade, trying to decide how honest he can or should be. It’s Slade after all. 

“What game?”, he feigns ignorance. 

The look Slade gives him makes it obvious that he doesn’t buy it. 

“Are northerners any different?”, Slade asks instead. 

“No,” Jason says, grimacing. “But they know who I am.” 

He figures that Slade won’t mind him dodging questions, especially not as long as he’s playing along, but lying to Slade is no use. He ignores the nagging feeling that maybe he doesn’t even want to try. Honesty is such a terribly rare thing. And Slade would never care about what the people in the north think. 

“So they wouldn’t judge because they respect you?” 

Jason nods. “In Winterfell at least.” 

“Then this is in fact different. Depending on who you are and what mood they’re in, they’d either carry the gossip all across town or try to leech off of you.” 

Jason grimaces. “I can see why you keep coming back to this city and tavern. They must be very close to your heart.” 

Slade huffs. “Some people have an easier time navigating a snakes’ pit than a wolf’s den.”

“Could the reason possibly be that they’re a snake themselves?”, Jason raises a somewhat condemning eyebrow at him. 

“Either that or they’re apt at wearing a snake’s skin.”

“I’ve met people who try to wear wolf’s pelts,” Jason shrugs. 

But pretending to be a wolf amongst wolves and pretending to be a snake amongst snakes might be two fundamentally different things. King’s Landing and Winterfell are too unlike each other. Jason appreciates the stoicism of northerners much more than he does the whispers of King’s Landing. But the intention in pretending to belong should at least be similar.

“And how do you treat them?”, Slade asks. 

“In my experience, people either grow into what they’re pretending to be or go in the opposite direction. It depends on their heart and what’s made easier for them. I tend to disregard people with fake skins.”

“You don’t disregard me. Maybe you’ve tried to, at the beginning, but now you don’t even pretend to anymore.” 

“Maybe I mistook you for a snake. I don’t like them all that much,” Jason says carefully. “But when you spread your wings, it’s obvious that you’re a dragon, not a snake.” Slade watches him intensely and he continues quietly but with conviction. “There’s no disguising yourself as a dragon.” 

“That, I can’t argue with. But you’d be surprised by how many people want to see dragons as simply overgrown lizards or snakes with wings. They all want to believe that they’re like us.”

“And you don’t want to prove them wrong?”

“I do when I feel like it,” Slade’s grin looks again more wolfish than anything. 

It’s a good look on him.

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. 

Chapter Text

Slade leads the way back through the caves and Myra follows them closely with heavy steps. As soon as the sunshine outside the cave is close enough to shed light onto the floor and walls, Jason can’t help but turn around to watch the dragon emerge from the shadows. It’s as if darkness itself decided to take form and poke its head into the sunlight. 

She notices and tilts her head at him, but he keeps staring in wonder. It’s the first time he’s seeing her close enough in broad daylight that he could count all of her scales. 

Once they reach the entrance of the cave, she straightens up and shifts her weight to her legs, stretching her wings. Her whole body unfolded and head reaching to the sky, she covers more than the whole entrance. A satisfied shudder moves from her head and neck down to her tail before she gathers her wings back in and expectantly looks at the two of them. 

Jason isn’t sure what she’s waiting for, but he’s eager to find out. The dragonkeepers keep to the sides of the open square, except for the old man that spoke to them before. 

“Her saddle is prepared,” he says and motions to a big mass of leather and pelts lying on a plank that’s supported on either end by two pillars. 

Slade nods in acknowledgment and lays a hand on the small of Jason’s back, motioning for him to come with him. Jason is still marveling at the construction when he gets distracted by Slade swiftly climbing one of the pillars that are about triple his height. 

“Come up here,” Slade calls down. Jason grabs the ledges and follows. Slade’s outstretched hand waits for him at the top and he takes it and gets pulled up on the platform. “Saddles for young dragons are small and light enough that the dragonkeepers can saddle the dragons themselves, like you would horses. Hers is so big and heavy that even I have a hard time doing it, so it’s easier for her to do it herself,” he explains once Jason sees the saddle up close. It easily fits two people and looks like it’s been used a lot but is also well taken care of. 

Myra sets her knuckles back down on the ground and follows them. She shakes her head, before lowering it close to the ground and sliding it under the saddle, through the ring that fits her neck perfectly once she steps fully below the saddle. Now, Slade can pull the plank away and the saddle drops those last few inches onto her back. She grumbles and moves her shoulders until she’s satisfied with how the saddle sits on her back. 

Slade waits for her to be done, again with his hand on Jason’s back. Sure, the little platform they’re standing would make for an unpleasant fall, but if it was anybody else’s hand, it would annoy him to death. He only permits, no enjoys, it because it’s Slade’s hand laying on the small of the vest he gave Jason and it spreads a pleasant warmth through his back.

Slade isn’t ignorant of his tells by any means, but he too feigns casualness until Myra looks over her shoulder. Slade lets his hand slip off Jason to go first and easily climbs from the pillar onto her back. 

He moves to the back of the saddle, kneels on her spine between the thorns lining it on both sides and easily balances in the space between the sharpness of her scales and thorns. The dragonkeeper hands him the end of a belt that reaches under her wing and probably across her chest, with the help of his staff because he could never reach high enough himself, and Slade fastens it to the back corner of the saddle. 

Jason watches him shift between the thorns and do the same thing on the other side so intently, he doesn’t even notice Myra watching him until she snorts at him. 

Slade notices and catches him giving Myra an apologetic look, even though he doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologizing for. 

“Sometimes, I can’t tell who you’re more intrigued by,” Slade chuckles. 

Ah. Fuck. He doesn’t know either. Hasn’t known since they landed in Winterfell, really. 

“How could a human ever measure up to a dragon?”, Jason reasons back instead, not insincerely, because he really doesn’t understand how Slade manages to do it. 

For one worrying moment, Slade looks like he understands. As if he has an idea, or worse knows, what Jason didn’t say. Again. But instead of saying anything about it, he just climbs across Myra’s back and settles into the saddle.

“Come on,” he encourages and holds his arm out. 

Jason licks his lips, heart pounding with excited anxiousness now that he’s standing at the edge of the pillar. He reaches out to grab Slade’s lower arm and feels Slade’s fingers close around the padded sleeve of the piece of clothing he gave him. 

Myra’s shoulder is but a large step away. It’s not a distance he actually needs help for and Jason is anything but clumsy, even when nervous or excited and in unfamiliar territory, but his heart is pounding to high heavens so he’s glad for Slade’s hand grounding him. He’s about to climb on a dragon after all. 

He’s had dreams about this since he was a kid and sometimes they felt like nightmares because he had to wake up and thought his real life would never measure up to his dreams. 

He takes the step, setting a foot on her scales, first lightly in case she wants to protest after all, then putting his full weight on her when Slade pulls him forward. He shuffles around until he sits in the saddle behind Slade. It comes easier to him than he would’ve thought. 

Myra cranes her neck backwards to look at the two of them and Jason can feel her shoulders shift where his boots are laying on her scales, but other than that she doesn’t move yet. Slade takes his hands from his shoulders, where he held onto when he was finding his place on the saddle, and places them around his waist instead so that his hands hold onto each other. Suddenly, he’s sitting far too close to Slade’s back. He tries to loosen the firm grab Slade guided him towards to not be as close, but Slade stops him with rough fingers closing around his grip. 

“Hold tight until you get used to it. Then you can grab the other strings attached to the saddle, my shoulders or my waist, whatever you like. For all I care, you can let go if you want. We won’t let you fall. At least not all the way,” he says and Jason doesn’t protest the closeness, despite him being certain that Slade can absolutely feel his heart hammering in his chest and directly into Slade’s ribs. 

Myra straightens up a little and Jason mimics the way Slade put his boots on some smaller thorns at the side of the saddle. 

“You can put weight on them.”

“As long as I don’t hurt her,” Jason breathes, but isn’t sure if he could even if he tried. His weight is nothing compared to hers. 

“She feels it, but it doesn’t hurt her,” Slade says. 

Myra moves away from the pillars and the scales shift under his inner legs. His thighs are pressed against comfortable leather and pelts but Jason gets the feeling that his pants below the saddle would start to tear quickly if Slade hadn’t given him the especially padded ones. 

He gets little time to get used to how her body moves when she’s walking. As soon as she has enough space, she spreads her wings and it’s the only warning he gets before powerful wingbeats lift her off the ground. She gains height with every movement of her wings, massive, swift pulses rolling through her whole body and increasing in frequency. In no time at all, they’re above the dragonpit and have a full view of the city from up high. 

Once she’s gained height, the beats of her wings mellow out a bit as the movements turn languid and heft. They become quiet amongst the winds when she’s drifting through the air. 

Jason gets used to how her body weaves its way along the winds, how sturdy waves ripple through her body when she gains height fast, or languid, swift beats propel her forwards. Once, she lets herself drop a couple feet and Slade laughs at Jason’s arms tightening instinctively around his waist. But he gets used to the strange new form of riding fast. She circles far above King’s Landing a few times and he already feels comfortable enough to loosen his hold around Slade. 

Slade turns around and tilts his head at him in question. “Your heart still feels like it’s about to jump out of your chest.” 

Jason doesn’t tell him that the reason for that shifted from nervous excitement to absolute thrill. He shrugs and moves his hands from Slade’s stomach to grab onto his waist instead. The corner of Slade’s mouth twitches into a small grin when Jason doesn’t continue to move his hands to his shoulders. Jason sees it but doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want to put that kind of a distance between them right now. 

He’s on dragonback for the first time in his life. Something he only ever dared to dream of. And he relishes the feeling of his thighs pressing against Slade’s on the saddle and how his hands fit around Slade’s waist and on his hips, just as much as the way Myra moves and how the winds around him fill him with a sense of freedom. 

Myra changes course and flies out to sea. The air becomes saltier and damper and Jason cranes his neck to watch the coastline. He’s seen lots of places from a distance, but he’s never sailed away from something. It’s fascinating, seeing the coastline shrink, the sea under them grow darker and the horizon remain unchanged. 

Before they lose sight of the coast, Slade, for the first time, guides her in a direction he wants to go. Back to land. 

“I did not only take you out here for fun,” Slade says over his shoulder. “Where do we find your wolf?”

Jason searches for the stony hill a couple miles outside of King’s Landing and points towards it. “There. The forest surrounding that hill is the deepest one around here.” 

Slade nods and soon they’re circling down towards a green side of that hill. Myra’s landing makes the ground tremor, but it’s almost unnoticeable on her shoulders. She crouches down, chest to the ground and Slade easily slides out of the saddle and the couple feet down to the ground. 

Jason follows him, but as soon as his feet land on the ground he knows that his knees are too weak from excitement to support him. Slade, the bastard, anticipated it and catches him around the waist, but of course didn’t bother to warn him. Jason shakes out his legs and straightens up, throwing him an annoyed look. If Slade notices Jason leaning not only on but also into him a little, he luckily keeps his mouth shut about that, too. 

“How would I know?”, Slade dares to ask though. “I’ve never seen someone else’s first flight before.” 

Jason lets go of him and stares at him for a moment. He’s never done this before?

“You had a first time, too.” 

“I was a teen, then. And she was, too. We had so much reckless fun that we both collapsed from exhaustion once we were on the ground. No doubt, you would’ve done the same.” 

“You don’t have to go easy on me,” Jason says slightly annoyed. 

Myra huffs and unfolds to her full size, almost as if he hurt her pride a little, and proceeds to glare at Slade as if to blame him for not going all out. 

“We came here so you could see your wolf and Myra can go hunt,” Slade says, patting his dragon on the neck.

Myra seems satisfied enough with that. She rumbles contently and steps away from them before heaving herself into the air again. 

“Hunting? This close to the city?”

“She’ll fly further away. She enjoys hunting and doesn’t like having her foot handed to her or going after caged sheep on farms,” he says, sitting down on the grassy hillside. “So I take her out as often as she wants to.”

Jason turns away from Slade, towards the forest, and lets a whistle sound across the land.

“Her eyes always look so kind to me,” Jason murmurs when he moves to sit next to Slade. 

“Because you look at fire and all you care to see is its warmth. Because she looks at you and reins in her malice and wildness because she likes you.” 

“I know how fierce dragons can be,” Jason protests. 

“But, unlike everyone else, you don’t mind it.” 

“You think I’m too reckless?” 

“No. I know her too well, she likes having you around. You’re in fact the only kid she was ever friends with,” Slade snorts. 

“You mentioned that when we first met. I still don’t know what you meant by that.”

Slade hums thoughtfully. “When you were a kid, a real young one, we came to Winterfell once in a while and you loved playing with her. And she liked entertaining you. Bruce allowed it because he knows that dragons are too smart to accidentally kill and I promised I’ll keep an eye out. We worked together a lot back then. With Kal, too. Which is the only reason for that amount of trust. You would climb all over her, sit next to her and pat her for hours or find a comfortable spot to fall asleep against.“

“Too bad I can’t remember any of that,” Jason muses, still too astonished to really believe. 

“You always wanted to ride her, but Bruce would’ve had my head,” Slade grins. “Kids are curious by nature, but dragons do scare them, even the calm ones do. But she’s wild and impatient. Riding a dragon is difficult, even if the sky is calm and the dragon is content with drifting below the clouds. She’s not.” 

Jason sees something dark shoot out of the tree line and can’t help grinning towards it when he jabs at Slade. “Except for you, huh? Everything’s easy to you.”

“Because you had such a hard time staying in the saddle today?”, he still hears Slade’s remark before Ny is on him and tackles him to the ground. “You were so wrapped up in your excitement that you didn’t even worry about how to stay in the saddle, you just did,” Slade continues when Ny finally stops trying to lick Jason’s face wet. 

Ny settles down next to him and allows Jason to hug him close. He puts his giant head an Jason’s stomach and warily glances to Slade before closing his eyes and rumbling happily. 

“He stopped growling at me,” Slade notes amused. 

Jason doesn’t want to say out loud that it’s either because Ny trusts him now or because he can sense that Jason does. 

“We both stink of dragon now,” he says, fully aware that that was Slade’s argument for Ny’s dislike when they met and that Jason waved it off at the time. 

“You can speak freely here,” Slade says with a pointed look at the open area around him. 

Jason snorts. “You remember the first conversation we had, I’m touched.” 

Jason wonders why Slade decided to come out here with him. He could’ve just dropped him off at the gate like usual if it was about going to see Ny. Sure, Slade isn’t staying with Myra today since she’s hunting, but surely he could’ve just let her fly out of the dragonpit alone and didn’t have to bring her here first. 

Jason doesn’t ask. He’s not sure which kind of answer he wants to hear less. The truth or one that evades it. He can’t be sure what Slade would pick, despite him just saying that they may talk freely. 

But he’s right. No one can listen here. There are no hollow walls or corners with hidden ears around. And who knows how often they’ll get a chance like this. 

It entirely depends on Slade, he supposes. Maybe this is a one time thing. Jason’s stomach twists into knots at the thought. He’s rarely felt as free as he did up in the sky. 

He shoves the unpleasant thoughts away and decides to use this chance to speak openly for something important. 

“Did my father tell you anything? Does he suspect anybody?”, he asks, laying on the ground, looking at the sky and caressing Ny between his ears. 

If he was in Winterfell, he could relax like this for hours, fall asleep on a meadow until the cold permeates through his clothes and he has to warm himself up by either going inside and sitting by a fire or curling himself into Ny’s warmth. 

“He figured out what poison they used.” 

Jason’s hand stills on Ny’s head. “Go on.” 

“Nightingale,” Slade sighs. “You really want to talk about court affairs?”

“Yes,” Jason insists. “I want to at least know what’s going on. And I’ve never heard of that before. Why is it named after a bird?”

“Because the birds are common, and the people who name these poisons can’t help but choose names that are related to night or sleep or dreams for some reason,” Slade scoffs. 

“Since I’ve never heard of it, it must be a truly rare one.”

“I’ve only ever seen League members use it,” Slade says as if he’s commenting on the weather being quite nice today. 

Jason sits up abruptly and apologizes quickly to Ny who got jolted out of his dozing by rubbing his neck. “What.” 

“One point for your paranoia,” Slade says, still looking casually over the forest. 

Ny seems to be confused by Slade’s calmness and Jason’s suddenly raised voice. He grumbles and settles on laying his head in Jason’s lap and expectantly looking up at him. 

Jason feels taut as a bowstring. It has to be the League. And if it’s them, there’s plenty reason for concern and caution, even if Slade seems to disagree. But it’s not like they can spring into action right now, so Jason goes back to petting Ny’s head, more to calm himself down than for Ny’s benefit. 

Slade watches him steadily and waits for Jason’s attention to turn back to him. “I’ll check the city for members of the League, since Bruce can’t, with his position as the Hand. And his overall demeanor would get in the way, too, if we’re being honest,” Slade grins. “But there’s no guarantee that I’ll find anything.”

“You’re not goin to be able to keep me out of this,” Jason says heavily, with almost something like a growl in his voice. 

“I’m not?”, Slade raises an eyebrow but doesn’t bother to let Jason argue. ”The assassin might’ve been just a single person that disappeared out of the city the next day, so we might have to sort this one out with Ra’s himself.” 

Jason gapes at him. “You’re not serious.”

Slade shrugs. “He’s pretty pissed at both Bruce and I. It will be entertaining.” 

Jason nervously runs a hand through his hair and clenches his jaw, uncaring of Slade watching him closely.  

“Just so you know, I won’t let my father go alone,” he says, dead serious. 

“I know,” Slade just agrees. “We don’t even know what happened. We still have time.”

“We?”, Jason tilts his head at him. 

“Yes.” 

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wishes he wasn’t right about his worries, but at least the threat seems to be something he’s vaguely familiar with. 

“So it really is the League,” he mumbles, staring thoughtfully into the sky. 

Maybe he should write Talia. Even if she isn’t involved, she tends to know more than her father usually cares for. But letters are anything but safe. If he wants to inquire about something this sensitive, he should go himself. Him and Ny could make the trip to Harrenhal in a couple days. 

“Your father had the same look on his face when I left him after he told me.” 

Reluctantly, Jason stops running through plans and turns his head to meet Slade’s eye. His gaze is harder than usual and something like irritation bleeds through. 

“Means he’s gonna get himself into trouble,” Jason says, watching Slade’s expression darken slightly. 

“I know.”

Jason ignores both Slade’s words and the way they twist something pleasant in his gut. 

Yes, it’s reckless to go visit Talia now of all times. The League won’t think that the timing may just be a coincidence. But him going would draw less attention than Bruce going and he won’t let Damian do it. Then again, Bruce won’t let him either so he’ll have to sneak out. But that should be easy enough. 

“Jason,” Slade interrupts his thoughts again.

“You know my father way too well,” Jason avoids. He’ll share his thoughts once he has a plan Slade can help with. Perhaps. “It’s creepy.” 

“I’ve met a lot of people and my memory is good, but few leave an actual impression,” Slade shrugs and his gaze softens from boring holes into his soul to simply observing every little thing about him. Jason wants to think he’s gotten used to it, but then he sees a tiny smirk in the corner of Slade’s mouth. All he can do is wait for whatever Slade’s about to say with a carefully blank face. “I’ve had my fun with him.”

Well. Fuck. 

His mouth falls a little open before he catches himself. “I don’t know what would be worse, if the next thing you say is that it was or that it wasn’t before I was born.”

“Both,” Slade grins wolfishly.

Fuck composure, this time Jason shoots up and tackles Slade to the ground. 

“What the fuck, Slade?”, Jason hisses in his face, pressing both of Slade’s shoulders into the grass. 

Slade hums, sneaks a hand around Jason’s thigh where he’s straddling Slade’s waist and Jason feels heat pooling in his gut. “Although, not the way you’re thinking.” 

“Huh?”, Jason blinks. 

“This,” Slade says, gripping his other thigh, “isn’t his idea of fun. Besides, he has always been way too smitten with Kal to look at anyone else before he married your mother.” 

Jason is so stunned, he forgets about the heat radiating from Slade’s hands. “What?”

“Even you can’t tell? They’ve gotten good at hiding it,” Slade says, slightly impressed. 

Slade sits up and Jason has to tighten his hold on Slade’s shirt again to not fall out of his lap. 

“You’re a menace.”

“I am. And whatever plans you have, I’ll know,” Slade says way too close to his face. “I always did figure out your father’s plans eventually, too.” 

“Which means if I don’t want to involve you, I’ll just have to be quick enough.”

“Why wouldn’t you want that?” 

He’s got a point. Slade is stronger than anyone else Jason knows, except for the Els if he believes what Slade told him, they have the same goal and his reputation is only as true as he wants it to be. 

He’s a dragonrider for heaven’s sake. 

The oldest one. And even age doesn’t seem to have weakened him yet. Worldly troubles don’t seem to matter much to him. 

“I don’t want to owe you,” Jason reasons. 

“No? I’d ask for something fun. Promise.” Slade is so close, he can feel his breath tickle his neck. 

“There’s nothing I can give you that you couldn’t get on your own easily. You’re a dragonrider.” 

“I am,” Slade says with the kind of graveness in his voice that only his dragon can bring out in him. His eye, trained above the forest, has the same feeling to it and when Jason turns around to follow his gaze he sees Myra gliding through the sky towards them. 

She’s fast approaching and circles them once before she sets down heavily on the hill behind Slade. Jason’s eyes fly back from dragon to rider when she settles on the meadow and Slade continues. 

“I don’t think you fully grasp what that means, yet.” 

Jason wants to protest. Just because he’s fascinated instead of scared doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how dangerous they are. 

“I don’t mean you should be shaking in your boots when you cross our path with foul intentions, or carefully watch what you say and do around us. The rest of the world needs to do that.”

She’s looking at him equally as intensely as Slade is. It sends a shudder down his spine and he feels that the adorably confused look on Ny’s face mirrors his own perfectly. 

“I mean that you’re an excellent fighter, and probably just as good with planning and getting into and out of dangerous situations if you’re anything like Bruce. And you definitely are in some ways. Despite that, you’re not invincible. But on her back or with me at your side, you’d be damn close. That’s what it means to someone like you.” 

“I can’t ask you to do any of that,” Jason protests and thinks of his plan. “And some things are better done quickly and quietly, which usually means alone.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday? I know that Talia is your only direct League contact. I know she’s a three days ride from here. Were you thinking of sneaking off with your wolf? Don’t.” 

“Heavens. Stop reading my thoughts,” Jason glares at him. “It’s better than doing nothing. She might actually know something.” 

“I agree. If Bruce hits a dead end, we take Myra and fly to Harrenhal.” 

“What?”, Jason asks, stunned. 

Slade squeezes his thighs with a grin. “You should start thinking like a dragonrider.” 

Myra seems to be satisfied and tucks her head under her wing for a nap, if dragons even do something like that. Ny, infected by Myra’s laziness, rests his head on his paws and dozes off. 

“There’s something else you can take advantage of right now,” Slade continues. “My League training. Wanna brush up on your own skills?” 

They never use any of their League skills when they’re training in the castle. There are way too many eyes around there, but no one can see them here. 

“Sure,” Jason agrees, eager to test his versatility. He gets out of Slade’s lap and extends a hand to pull him up. 

He’s more surprised when Slade first takes it than he is when Slade pulls on it and he lands on his back not a moment later. Because why would Slade wait to begin their spar until they both have a sword in hand? Might as well make getting there a challenge itself. 

And fuck, if there’s one thing Slade and him can see eye to eye on, it’s their ability and desire to entertain themselves with a good fight. 

Slade probably wouldn’t bother doing it if he didn’t get anything out of it, but Jason forces himself to do it even when his partner is dull and mind numbingly boring. He needs to stay active and sharp. But it’s never any of those things with Slade as his partner. 

Jason’s fingers tingle and firmly close around the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever Slade throws at him today.

Chapter Text

The next day, Jason wakes up surrounded by warmth. It’s almost too much. Half awake, he reaches for the source and wants to push it a little further away, but the feeling of soft fur underneath his fingers jolts him awake. They don’t use pelts for bedding here in the south at this time of the year, just linen and silk. 

He blinks and is greeted by Ny occupying half of his bed, looking at him with puppy eyes. Puppy eyes the size of half his palm. And yet, Ny never fails to make it work. 

“What the heavens?”, Jason murmurs sleepily now that he can relax again. “How’d you get in here?” 

Instead of pushing Ny away, he lets his hand fall onto the bed and lazily pats Ny’s tummy. His wolf happily quints his eyes shut and puts his head down on his front paws, grumbling pleasantly.

Beyond his balcony, the sky is still mostly red and yellow. It’s too early to actually get out of bed so he stays, stretches under the sheets and keeps Ny company, despite the odd circumstance. 

Ny shouldn’t be here. Jason and Damian agreed to not let the wolves come to the castle because they would be too caged in if they can’t freely leave. And simply accompanying them through the city is not an option when there’s so many people around who’ve never seen a wolf, much less a horse-sized one, on the streets. 

The only people other than himself who could’ve gotten Ny to come with them are Bruce and Damian and, after yesterday, maybe Slade. While Ny has seen Slade and him together almost every day on the King’s Road, he hasn’t seen them spend time together like he did yesterday. By the end of the day, the wolf greeted Slade’s stretched out hand with an appreciative lick before he ran off into the forest again. After that, Slade’s gaze landed on Jason with a smugness that made his gut swoop. 

This situation must be of Slade’s making then. Bruce and Damian would never carelessly let a direwolf into King’s Landing. Even though Damian would give his left arm to have Nia here. 

Sighing, he finally turns away from Ny when the sky is fully bright blue, running his fingers through Ny’s fur one last time. 

He’s interrupted by a knock at his door. 

“Come in,” he raises his voice, just enough to be heard, before he remembers that he isn’t even dressed yet. He slightly opens the curtains, separating the section of the quarters his bed is in from the rest of it, and peaks out of the gap. 

He’s surprised when it’s Slade who opens the door and closes it behind himself. Maybe more than he should’ve been, considering the direwolf in his bed. 

“Morning,” Slade says as if nothing is amiss. 

Jason ignores the once over Slade gives him in favor of pushing the curtains aside and gesturing towards Ny. “Care to explain?”

“It saves us the trouble of you having to leave the castle every couple days.”

“Not why. How,” Jason asks. Slade’s self-satisfied expression annoys him so much that he doesn’t let him answer. “What were you thinking? He can’t actually stay here and now we have to smuggle him out of the city again. How is that any less complicated than simply riding out to meet him?” 

Slade walks over to where he’s still standing half behind one side of the curtains. He steps past Jason and the bed and stops before a panel in the wall to lay a hand on its side. Slade presses down on the inconspicuous piece of wall, something clicks and the wall moves, revealing darkness. Jason looks between Slade and the space behind his wall with wide eyes. 

“A passage?” 

“A secret one,” Slade raises a finger to his lips. “Not even Kal knows the full extend of these tunnels.” 

Curiosity wins and Jason joins Slade to peer into the pathway. It’s dark and fairly cold and he can’t see far. On one side, it extends to where Damian’s and Bruce’s rooms must be and, on the other, he sees the top and the bottom of a staircase. 

“Your room is connected to it, too?”, Jason asks quietly. If that’s the case, it’s probably even connected to the King’s chambers. 

Slade nods, knowing which question Jason implied. 

“Him, his wife and I are the only ones who know about this part of the tunnels,” he says, casually leaning against the frame of the hidden door, while Jason studies the mechanism. “There are tunnels which are more commonly known, and tunnels that only I know about. The whole thing is a giant maze and hundreds of years old, some passages became unusable over time.”

“The stairs to the underground cave you led me to on the first day here… They’re part of this?”

“Yes,” Slade nods. “The tunnels leading away from there go both into and out of the city.”

“So that’s how,” Jason glances at Ny. Still, the idea is absurd. “You went outside and led him through secret tunnels into my room?” 

“I did.”

“What is this? Some eerie demonstration that you could get into my room at any time?”, he mocks and ignores the way his neck heats up in odd anticipation. 

To Jason’s disappointment, Slade just raises an amused eyebrow. 

“I don’t need a hidden passage for that. I could just go through the front door,” he grins and Jason feels a little weak in the knees. “Why would the guards at the entrance to the floor deny me entry?”

“You wouldn’t, though. The rumors would spread in no time if the guards or servants figure out where you’re going,” Jason argues. 

“I don’t care about my reputation as much as you might think. In fact, I do not care at all,” Slade smiles. 

It’s so falsely innocent that it’s predatory. 

Jason knows what kind of hunger is darkening Slade’s eye. He figured it out before he himself was old enough to receive those stares. Bruce and Richard are both very handsome men of very high standing after all. 

Once he started receiving those looks, sometimes he reciprocated and it let to a good night or a few good weeks. But he’s never been on the receiving end of a look as intense as Slade’s. 

And he can’t read what Slade is looking for. 

By all accounts, he should be someone who gets it out of his system in one night and either loses interest or returns for another night every couple months when he feels like it. Jason could certainly enjoy that. He wasn’t even looking for the other kind of interest. The one that leads to spending a couple weeks together, waking up next to each other and kissing outside the bed. 

But just judging by the way Slade looks him up and down in this very moment, he can’t tell what Slade is anticipating. 

And Jason isn’t sure which one he himself is hoping for. He doesn’t know if he wants something that lasts, which is why he didn’t roll onto his side to kiss Slade when they were spending hours talking and sparring on the meadow yesterday. 

And, because he doesn’t know if he wants something that remains singular and a secret between them and the middle of the night, he now sends Slade ahead to breakfast before he changes his clothes. 

Jason makes sure that Ny knows where to press his forehead against the wall when he wants to open the hidden door to leave the castle. Slade assured him that the path is open and Jason knows that Ny is more than intelligent enough to remember the way. When he’s done taking care of Ny, he follows Slade to breakfast. 

They spend the day together like they always do. Yesterday’s revelations don’t change much for Jason, he’s been paying attention to any sign of the League since the first day here. Now, that there’s something a little more concrete to go off of, he catches himself almost jumping at shadows a couple times. 

Annoyingly, Slade notices. But even though he does tease him about it, Jason is glad for the third eye confirming that the shadows he sees are really just the absence of light and not the presence of darkness. For now. 

He’s used to an environment where teasing means there’s no immediate danger present, which lulls him into a weird sense of security every time he’s around Slade. His rational side, however, disagrees with his gut because he’s never seen Slade be truly concerned about anything. Slade’s tolerance for threats seems impossibly higher than even his own. 

Jason trusts his family’s and his own abilities and intelligence far more than he does anybody else’s, but he gets the feeling that Slade’s faith in himself is bordering on unshakable. His irritatingly skewed sense of danger is probably useless to Jason. 

He can’t be certain that something that’s not a threat to Slade, or even the King if what Slade says is true, also isn’t a threat to himself or his family. But Bruce knows about the League, and Jason snuck into Damian’s room last night to tell him about what he learned, which sets him at ease a little.  

But just because Slade is still comfortably going about their day doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be concerned, Jason reminds himself and keeps watching their surroundings. 

Maybe he should thank Slade for his nonchalance though. It makes for a great cover. 

The day takes a strange turn when Slade cuts the trip into the city short and they return to the training grounds for the afternoon. 

Jason has no idea how he knew, but the daughter of House Cain, Cassandra, is there and sparring with her friend, a blonde girl Jason doesn’t know the name of. Slade settles onto a small wall on the other side of the yard and calls over Tiger, Roy and Kyle for Jason to train with. He hasn’t actually fought them all that often since Slade took over most of his training, but he’s happy to get another chance at a full spar with them. 

What exactly he’s going along with becomes clear when Slade watches not only them but also subtly keeps his attention on the girls and the two guards Cassandra has with her. 

Jason’s next hits are a little too fierce as he curses Slade out in his head. The bastard should’ve found another way to watch the Cains. A way that allows Jason to pay attention, too. 

Slade’s sly grin at Jason’s minute outburst confirms that he could very well have done that but chose not to. Frustrated, he finishes sparring when the girls are long gone already. 

The day gets even more bizarre when Slade slips something under his belt during dinner. Jason doesn’t check what it is until he closes the door to his room behind himself. 

It’s a note. 

The hidden stairs in two hours.

If you join me, people might assume certain things about us.  

Huh. 

Jason stares at the last word of the note for far too long. It must be significant. Slade wouldn’t have included himself if the possible assumptions don’t involve both of them. Specifically together. Probably. 

Otherwise Slade would’ve used you, right?

His heart rate picks up the pace more and more as he follows this line of thought. 

Within the castle, it’s fairly well known that Slade is responsible for his training. Less obvious is another role he took on, that of being Jason’s patron, although the amount of time they spend together is a giveaway to anyone who pays attention. Both are true, but neither warrants a warning.

Which leads him to believe, whatever people might assume from here on probably doesn’t exist between them. Not openly, not yet, Jason’s wishes whisper in the back of his mind. 

His heart is finely attuned to those voices and stumbles into a running pace. 

He tries to quell the chaos in his head, to rationalize what this note actually means. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. After all, he still doesn’t even know what he’s hoping for. His heart and mind race with no known destination and, without a path, they tend to run against and crash into each other at times. 

It’s exhausting and drives him up the walls. 

Ny is the one who pulls him out of his thoughts. 

Jason didn’t hear him leave the bed, but it isn’t possible to miss the presence of the big black wolf tapping through his chambers when the sun hasn’t set yet. 

“What should I do?”, he whispers into Ny’s neck, letting his hands run through smooth fur, the paper squeezed between his fingers. 

Ny encouragingly nudges his nose into Jason’s side. Because of course Ny would push him towards his desires. 

There’re plenty of things that are taboo and things people shouldn’t associate with Jason Wayne. And yet, he’s lucky in a way. His conscience and his family allow a lot more than society deems acceptable of a person of his standing. 

Again, Jason finds himself envious of how Slade does not care at all. But he knows that this kind of absolute freedom is only possible because Slade is alone. No one depends on him. He relies on no one but himself. Slade’s reputation can’t hurt anyone else. He’s free. 

No one will die for or because of Slade just because they’re an important person to him. 

Jason hugs Ny closer. He has loved ones to consider. His family. Even Ny, who would stay at his side no matter what and survive a lot but certainly isn’t as invincible as Myra. 

Jason doesn’t know wether Slade chose to be alone to get hold of this freedom or he decided to live freely and it cost him all close relationships. But Slade seems to be at peace with it. 

Jason doesn’t know if he could be. 

Something Slade seems to be aware of. Hence, he slipped Jason the note and included a warning. 

There’s only one type of relationship that Jason might want that would be taboo for them. He doesn’t know if he prefers the lasting or the quick kind in this case, but it doesn’t matter, not yet, because it wouldn’t make a difference to the rumors. 

No matter how brief or meaningless it might end up being, the rumors could be forever. 

Slade knows that. 

When Jason first noticed his own eyes linger and his heart beating louder, he was quick to hold it back into concealment. Jason has a feeling that, no matter what Slade might offer, give, take or be like, he wouldn’t be prepared for it. 

That is if he ever deems Jason worthy of letting him that close and Jason accepts. 

But whatever Jason hoped for, he was expecting it to start, happen and end in secrecy. He’s done it before and he would do it again. 

Jason genuinely doesn’t mind keeping secrets. In all honesty, he can’t deny that he enjoys the challenges and the thrill that come with it. 

But, whatever Slade has in mind for the evening, people will be there. 

And, whatever Slade is planning on doing, he thinks those people might whisper about them afterwards. 

Jason doesn’t even bother asking himself the question wether Slade might take a rejection of the evening as a rejection to what he implied. Truthfully, and against his better sense, he already knew he would join Slade when he finished reading the note. 

As soon as he read us. 

It sent his mind into elation. He doesn’t know what will happen, but he’s sure that he can’t wait to find out what Slade means by us. 

The next two hours pass slowly. He decides the day was long enough to justify a bath and a change of clothes before Slade comes to get him. He doesn’t like looking perfectly put together and it’s not worth the effort. Whatever his hair wants to do while drying, he lets it, his favorite clothes will never look new and shiny for long and he doesn’t give up on a good pair of boots easily, but there are other things he’s incredibly fond of und uses to feel comfortable. 

For tonight, he chooses plain looking clothes that underline some of his traits. The pants hug his thighs, the shirt accentuates his waist when tugged into the pants sitting nicely on his hips and leaves his neck free, revealing the transition into his shoulders. He doesn’t mind the scars peeking out at his collarbones and on his arms when he pushes the sleeves up to his elbows. 

His stomach pleasantly drops, thinking about how Slade must have several times as many scars as he does and imagining the skin they’re carved into. He runs a thumb over one of the longer scars on his forearm. It tingles, but his skin also still feels incredibly soft, not hard to break at all. 

Jason’s hands are tougher. They’ve weathered a lot, gained callouses, tiny cuts, bumps and valleys during practices, fights, form the cold, climbing rocks, playing with pups and giant wolves, holding reins and the million other things he’s touched, shaped and clung to in his life. They aren’t the hands of a boy and not those of someone who was supposed to grow up sheltered either. 

But he’s seen Slade’s hands. Felt them. They have decades on his. 

His stomach again twists in anticipation at the image of Slade’s hands on his softer skin and he sinks into a chair on balcony, trying to chase the pictures away. 

For the remainder of the time, he watches the sun set with Ny at his side, leaning against the wolf, and sent into a light trance by the evenness of his wolf’s thorax rising and falling. 

Ny perks up as soon as the two hours are up. He must be sensing Slade’s presence in the walkway. 

Jason rubs the top of Ny’s head to calm both of them. 

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs to Ny and gets up, heart beating in his chest. 

He leaves his sword next to his bed but hides a couple long blades in addition to his usual set of knives under his clothes. He isn’t exactly dressed up as someone else, but his look differs from the one he’s been showing in the capital so far. It’s far more casual and subdued. 

When he pushes the door open into the tunnel, he finds Slade leaning against the wall a couple feet away. Even in the darkness, Slade’s blue eye bores into him.

“So you’ve decided.” 

It’s not a question and Jason doesn’t answer. It would feel too final for something he has no real information on. He’s leaving himself an out. 

“Lead the way,” he says instead. 

Slade nods and Jason follows him into the darkness. 

The tunnels lead down and then, for longer than Jason expected, straight towards the city. By the time Slade stops to open a hidden door, they’re amongst ordinary houses. The night is dark and they make their way through the alleys without being seen. 

Soon, Jason starts picking up on noises growing louder. The laughter, cursing, drunken howls and complaints stay muffled between the houses and alleys until they step right into a noisy courtyard. 

Suddenly, there are people everywhere. 

People trying to sell stuff, people wanting to be entertained, people trying to drown their sorrows. The city is as busy at night as it is during the day. Slade turns to him to look for a reaction, but Jason’s seen night markets, pleasure districts and taverns piling up in one spot of a city before. 

“This is disappointingly harmless,” Jason raises an eyebrow at him, even though he’s not sure what the point in coming here is. 

Slade snorts and nods to a tavern that definitely also functions as a whorehouse from the look on the faces of the people entering. 

Jason shrugs, stone-faced, and follows Slade towards it. “We could’ve come here to have fun separately, no?,” he says for only Slade to hear. 

“Would you want that? I wasn’t planning on letting you out of my sight,” Slade murmurs in his ear, sending a shiver down Jason’s spin. “Besides, people come either alone or as a group to look for entertainment and company. People who come as a pair usually already have their partner for the night.” 

Jason sucks in a sharp breath. “So why are we here?”

“Because certain people like to visit this place. You can help me blend in and you can keep an additional eye out. Well, eyes. Three are better than one, no?”

Jason snorts. 

League?, Jason wants to ask but not say out loud. 

Slade catches his silent question and nods. 

As they approach the tavern, Slade places his arm around Jason’s waist. It feels so natural that Jason has to remind himself that they’re not here for enjoyment. And if he leans into the touch a little, he can tell himself it’s for their cover. Slade squeezes his hip in response and they enter the tavern. 

As soon as they do, a corner of the room becomes even louder. 

“Kane!”, a couple men shout towards them. Soldiers Jason hasn’t seen before. 

Slade puts on his smirk that’s reserved for people he has absolutely no respect for, which seems to be most of the people Jason has seen him talk to. Amusingly, they all think Slade’s mean grin is owed to his personality and not to his company, which is themselves. 

“I was hoping to have some peace and quiet tonight,” Slade says slyly.

The soldiers burst out laughing, like it doesn’t even occur to them that there could be truth to it. Not that Slade wasn’t anticipating this exact reaction, but Jason perks up at the honesty he hears in what he said. 

Drawn into Slade’s side like he is right now, he has to look up a little further than he usually does, and the amused look Slade gives him is a lot closer. His breath hitches just slightly and Jason shakes his head, refusing to be won over this early in the evening. 

“Join us! Join us!”, the soldiers insist. “The boy, too!“ 

Jason’s head snaps around to glower at them, but they’re too drunk to notice. By the looks of it, they’re already seeing double. 

“Next round is on me,” Slade plays along and moves to the corner of the table that gives him a good oversight of the whole tavern. 

While he moves to sit, his hand finds Jason’s wrist and tugs him along. Slade leans into the bench and discreetly taps on his thighs for only Jason to see. A subtle suggestion before Jason can sit down next to him. A grin flashes across Jason’s face. He hides it, facing towards Slade. To their audience he looks abashed when he smoothly slides down on Slade’s lap. 

The men gawk. Jason is not someone who fits into laps. He’s too tall and too broad, but Slade dwarves everyone else. It works for the two of them and Jason couldn’t care less about anything else right now. Slade places an arm around his waist and Jason makes himself comfortable, resting his own arm around Slade’s shoulders. Their position more than makes up for the few inches Slade has on him and suddenly it’s Slade who has to look up slightly. 

Slade buries his face in Jason’s neck for a moment. “We’re not only here for pleasure, but enjoy yourself,” he murmurs. 

Jason slips a hand under Slade’s vest and smiles innocently, acutely aware of what this scene looks like to everyone else in the tavern. He was right about what Slade meant with assumptions about us. Heavens. If it was Slade with a nameless boy, no one would bat an eye, but if someone recognizes him…

“I honestly didn’t expect you to do anything in public,” he says lowly, for only Slade to hear. At least he didn’t before he got the note. 

“You thought I would’ve wanted to hide?”, Slade scoffs, not bothering to lower his voice for parts of the conversation that are a dime in a dozen in this tavern. 

“You know damn well how much trouble this could cause.” 

Jason’s advantage is that he can whisper into Slade’s ear whenever he wants to without it seeming like he’s hiding anything important because of the position he’s in. The soldiers are trying to gain Slade’s favor and engage him in conversation, but Jason has a free pass to talk over them. Because everyone assumes he’s whispering sweet nothings and Slade is clearly interested. His head is tilted up at Jason and his fingers draw circles on Jason’s lower back. 

This time Slade does whisper his answer. “Trouble doesn’t bother me. I warned you for that reason. And yet, you came.” 

“I did,” Jason sighs. Honestly, what was he thinking? 

“Do you regret it?”

“We’ll see. Depends on if it was worth it,” Jason grins slyly. 

“Hmm, I’ll make sure it is then,” Slade smoothly replies, lowering his voice for only Jason to hear, even though he doesn’t need to this time, and sending a shiver through his whole body. 

Jason hums expectantly but returns his attention to their surroundings. As much as he wishes now that they truly only came for pleasure, they didn’t. 

The soldiers they’re sitting with don’t know him, but they don’t treat him like air either. Status probably doesn’t matter to them, as long as their company can drink and laugh. Jason can do as much while still acting his part. 

Slade is quieter than him. He drinks more than Jason does, but often he’ll just lean back to let his eye wander across the tavern or, excruciatingly slow, over Jason. All while he lets his hands roam over Jason’s back and thighs. 

It drives him crazy and is one of the most pleasant sensations he’s ever felt. When it gets too much and his pants begin to strain, Jason takes one of Slade’s hands in his own and doesn’t let go.  

“I assumed you were new because I’ve never seen you here, but you’re good,” the oldest soldier says with a glance at their hands. 

Jason’s never received a compliment for being a talented whore before. Interesting. He hopes his grin doesn’t turn too wolfish. 

“I’m new. To King’s Landing that is. I came from a northern town not too long ago.” The rules of covers. Don’t say too much, don’t lie if you don’t have to and keep it vague if you do, or oddly specific with things no one can verify. 

“And you already snatched yourself someone like Kane?”, the drunkest one laughs. “You’re a lucky bastard.” 

“Gods, I hope so,” Jason grins. 

Slade laughs. “What did I ever do to deserve so much doubt?”

“Your reputation proceeds you,” one of them shouts. 

Jason turns to smile at him smugly. But his tummy is flipping over itself because Slade is right. He might be a bastard, not just in the literal sense, and generally not give a shit about strengthening trust in his non-relationships - his contracts do that for him if he needs it - but Slade never actually gave Jason reason for doubts. Sure, Jason had and has plenty, but nothing quite says I trust you like their dragon being fond of someone, Jason imagines. 

Slade didn’t care much for his own question, but Jason’s reaction sparks interested understanding in his expression. There’s a satisfied glint in the corner of his eye and he looks like he won. 

Maybe Jason shouldn’t spend so much time with the only person besides his father that can read him so well. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispers under his breath. 

Slade hums and squeezes Jason’s hand that’s still holding onto his.

“And why in the world would I ever wish to change my reputation? I worked hard on it,” he tells the table and raises his jug to toast himself. The others are still laughing when he’s done drinking and he murmurs behind his jug for only Jason to hear, “But you knew that.” 

“Fuck, what am I supposed to do with you?”, he mumbles, studying Slade’s face for an answer. 

Jason wants to punch him in the side when the spark in his eye springs over and lifts the corner of his mouth in amusement. But Slade is drawing circles with his thumb on the back of his hand now. 

“Whatever you want to,” Slade says. 

So he leans in, across those last few inches between them, and kisses him. Hard. 

Chapter Text

Jason’s made a mistake. That one instance of fuck it, I’ll kiss him rips giant holes into the walls he so meticulously build over the last few weeks to keep the fire of want and anticipation in check. It sets his gut alight, and his fingers laying on Slade’s arm dig into the muscle in an effort to ground himself. 

And then Slade opens his mouth for him and the dam bursts. Jason’s hooded eyes fly open to find Slade’s staring right into his soul and his mouth parts in surprise. Not that he would’ve denied Slade either way. 

The tip of Slade’s tongue slips between his lips and Jason demands more with a barely audible growl, but Slade hears it and leans further into him to devour him. Jason doesn’t back away even an inch. On the contrary, he’s desperate to keep Slade close. He releases his grip on Slade’s arm and curls his fingers around his nape instead. 

Slade, too, tightens the hold he has on Jason’s waist. 

But when their stunned audience starts cheering, the moment breaks. 

Fury bleeds into Slade’s expression for a moment, still hidden from their view by Jason. When he returns his attention to the soldiers, he just raises an annoyed eyebrow in appropriate displeasure. But if the way his fingers dig into Jason’s vest is anything to go by, he’s royally fed up. 

Jason hums lowly, completely ignoring the guys behind him, and presses kisses to Slade’s jaw and neck. Not to pacify him though, he uses his teeth and tongue and riles him up more. 

Slade exhales sharply. 

Jason lets up, allowing Slade to decide if he got what they came here for. He’s made his interest clear.

“You guys really need to learn how to read the room,” Slade grumbles and downs the rest of his drink.  

The most drunk one laughs. “You’ve never let yourself get interrupted before. And if you wanna take things further than what’s tolerated in this room, you’d go upstairs. Or downstairs.” 

“The north taught me manners,” Slade shrugs. 

“I’d like to see that,” someone else snickers. 

Jason, knowing it’s bullshit, cackles at Slade’s annoyed look. 

“They’re getting too brave,” Slade whispers into his ear. 

“You don’t mind when I talk like that,” Jason murmurs back. 

“No, I don’t.”

“But they should know to watch their mouth,” Jason hums, pleased. 

“Oh, they do and they are. But they’re drunk and think having you in my lap pacifies me.”

Jason chuckles. He’s never seen Slade lose any of his edge. 

“It puts me in a good mood, at least,” Slade grins and presses a kiss to Jason’s collarbone.  

“How come I’ve never seen these guys before?”, Jason asks quietly. 

“They’re stationed at the north gate and along the city walls. There are other taverns closer to the castle. If we’d gotten lucky, none of them would’ve come here. And nobody would’ve recognized you,” Slade adds with a hard look towards the entrance. 

“If?” 

Jason assumed that they’ll be seen by spies only, but it sounds like he’d recognize the person who entered the tavern if he follows Slade’s gaze. But the room is sparsely lit and they’re sitting in the corner furthest away, maybe they weren’t seen yet. 

“C’mon,” Slade presses a hand to the small of his back. “Go downstairs, I’ll follow you.” 

The soldiers around them notice Jason getting up and start lamenting their short but fun time together. Jason doesn’t even hear what they’re saying, just squeezes Slade’s shoulder and smoothly disappears into the shadows of the staircase leading downstairs. 

It’s right around the corner, so he still hears the laughter and chatter of the soldiers. He stops when he’s out of sight and listens to what Slade is doing. 

Jason hears him scoff at someone calling him a snake for telling Jason to go down instead of upstairs, especially alone, and he wonders what the shadows in the cellar are hiding. 

Then he hears a deep voice he’s passingly familiar with. The one Slade saw at the door must’ve been Matthew.

“Slade,” his voice rumbles a greeting. “Seems I caught you when you were about to disappear into the dens with your companion? My bad, I wouldn’t want to interrupt.” 

Jason grins at how truly uncaring Matthew sounds. No wonder these two bastards get along, or whatever their mutual understanding is. 

Slade snorts. “I hope you know I’m gonna leave your ass here to rot, but I thought you should at least let you know how awful your timing is.”

“You shouldn’t leave a good looking kid like him down there unattended for too long. Who knows who might eat him up?” 

The ambiguity of how much Matthew saw of him and if it was enough to recognize him makes Jason’s heart beat faster, but the implication of what kind of den this is makes it race and he shifts on the steps. Not with unease. There’s no danger for him down here, apparently, just lust. 

“You’re right,” Slade says, not giving anything away. It sounds like he’s getting up and clapping Matthew on the shoulder once. “Can’t let anyone take what’s mine.” 

Jason stares wide eyed up the stairs and holds his breath. Slade’s steps come closer and he finds Jason at the top of the stairs. 

“Figured you’d wait here,” he says when he joins Jason in the shadows. 

“It’s not like I actually know what you’re planning to do.” 

“You heard what Matthew said, no?”, Slade asks, slipping a teasing hand around his waist. 

“I also heard what you said.”

“Do you mind?” 

“No.” He lets himself fall against the wall, away from Slade but into the hand on the small of his back. 

“Oh? I thought you would.”

“Is that why you said it?”, Jason grins. “It’s my decision wether what you said is the truth or remains wishful thinking.” 

“Is that so?”, Slade says with a low rumble and steps closer. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be so kind as to accompany you into the pleasure dens of this fine establishment,” Jason smirks and slides out of Slade’s hold to descend the stairs. 

Slade follows him. “Hmm, if I had that in mind, I would’ve told you to go upstairs to the more or less private rooms. There’s a back door down here, you know?”

The further down the stairs lead, the darker it gets and Jason hears faint moans and groans all around. 

“That’s disappointing. You’d let our evening come to an end after we were so rudely interrupted?”, he plays it up with a pout, knowing that Slade can see well enough.  

He’s rarely ever done this before, and there’s no chance that his attempt at puppy eyes could ever match Dick’s, but for heaven’s sake, he’s had to deal with Ny’s so often, he should know a thing or two. 

“Of course not,” Slade smiles slyly and cups Jason’s jaw with his free hand to run his thumb over Jason’s bottom lip. 

The only chance Jason has at not breaking into laughter at himself is busying his face with something else immediately. He clasps his hands around Slade’s neck and pulls him closer for a kiss. 

Slade steps so far into his space that Jason has no choice but to back away until his back hits a wall. Jason doesn’t break the kiss until Slade hungrily returns it. This time uninterrupted by jeers and as hidden as they’ll ever be in the shadows. 

Slade slides his thigh between Jason’s and his moan would just disappear into the sounds around him if Slade wasn’t licking it out of him. Slade’s responding growl however is unmatched and sends a shiver through Jason’s whole body. Something Slade definitely feels where he’s holding Jason’s waist and where Jason’s inner thighs quiver around his leg. 

To Jason’s dismay, Slade stops after he drops back against the wall a little. 

“Let’s go,” he says right into Jason’s ear. “Otherwise, you won’t be able to walk back.” 

“Fuck, why’d I ever become interested in you?”, Jason grumbles. 

“You tell me,” Slade says. “At first, I thought it was my dragon.” 

“Ha,” Jason scoffs. “That’s what I thought, too.” 

“So you’re not feigning interest to get close to her? I’m touched.” 

Jason jabs him right below his rips. As if Slade ever believed that in the first place. 

Slade leads the way through the maze the dens seem to be and Jason couldn’t care less about the curious eyes on them. They don’t know him, but Slade is recognizable if they care to match the stories to the man they’re seeing. His statue, his white hair and his eyepatch make him unique. Even so, Jason silently walks next to Slade, counting the steps until they’re back in the castle, or so he assumes. 

They slip out of the back door, and the cool of the night clears Jason’s head a bit. 

“If we do this, I want answers.” 

“And I’ll give them to you, as long as I’m certain no one else will overhear,” Slade agrees, far more easily than Jason would’ve expected. “There’s no need to hide things from you.”

“Why not?” 

“Starting out with the easy questions, I see,” Slade says drily. “Is that one of those you need an answer to?” 

“No. I can figure it out by myself.”

“I’m pretty sure you can figure most of everything out by yourself.”

“That’s true.”

Slade rounds a corner to head into the direction of the castle. “Still, you prefer asking me? And hearing my biased answers?”

“Yes,” Jason nods. Bias can be very telling. 

“You want to know if I trust you?”, Slade asks and waits for Jason to nod again. “I don’t know how much this is worth to you, because I can afford to trust you anyhow, but I do.” 

Jason laughs, having expected nothing less. “Good enough for me.” 

“So what happens if you don’t like my answers?”

“Anything from I don’t care to go to hell is possible,” Jason grins. 

“I’ll keep a few secrets, then.” 

“Bastard,” Jason chuckles. 

Then he remembers that southerners take that insult so much more to heart than northerners. And it’s the truth in Slade’s case. He’s about to halfheartedly apologize when he sees that Slade doesn’t seem to care at all. He doesn’t even pause opening up the door to the tunnels. He just raises an eyebrow at Jason before he disappears into complete darkness and Jason follows with a shrug. 

“You got a light?”, he grumbles when both the light of the moon and the occasional lantern or hearth fire disappear behind them. 

“No,” Slade says, but his hand once again finds his back to guide him through the darkness. 

Even after getting used to the tunnel, the only things he can make out down here are shapes of shadows, glimpses of Slade’s hair and the sound of his steps. 

“Your sight really shouldn’t be this good considering your age and that you’ve only got one eye to work with and, oh, the limitations of being human.”

“Your and my limits are very different.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “I can see that.” 

And he swears, he can hear Slade snort in the darkness. 

“But answers can wait, I need something else first,” Jason continues nonchalantly, slipping a couple fingers into Slade’s waistband. 

“Thank heavens,” Slade sighs. 

“You worried I was anticipating the answers more than this?”, Jason laughs and leans fully into Slade’s side while walking down the tunnels. 

Slade wraps his arm around Jason’s waist and lets his finger trail over his hipbone. His breath hits Jason’s ear. “I don’t think it would’ve been hard to convince you otherwise.” 

Jason shudders. “Fuck,” he breathes out. “What was that about me needing to be able to walk?”

“No one’s gonna see us from here on. But I would carry you,” Slade says smoothly. “Because I’d rather have you in my bed.”

“Yours?”

“My quarters are apart from any others, neither guards nor maids attend to it, I’m the only one who knows all the tunnels and I’ll know if someone is nearby. You won’t have to keep your voice down.”  

Jason halts his steps and feels Slade turn to wait for him. Or for him to do something. 

“You’re the worst,” Jason hisses, already up in his face and grabbing onto Slade’s waist, before he crashes into a kiss. 

Slade has to find balance and takes a step back where his heel hits something. “Careful, love, we’re at the stairs.” 

The nickname should startle Jason back to clear-headedness, but he’s far too caught up in the moment. 

“Slade”, he murmurs against his lips. 

Slade hums and kisses Jason back. His hands smooth down his back and over his ass to his thighs. 

“Put your arms around my neck,” Slade mumbles into his mouth. 

His hands change their hold on his thighs to a grip and Jason realizes what he’s trying to do. Jason’s carried other people to bed before, but no one has carried him since he hit his growth spurt a decade ago, especially not in a situation like this. But it’s not like Jason hasn’t noticed how much stronger Slade is than he should be. 

“I won’t let you fall,” Slade says, and Jason can feel his face twist into a grin, remembering his first flight. 

Jason clasps his arms around Slade’s neck. “I was never worried about that.”

“Oddly enough,” Slade comments and pulls Jason up to his hips so Jason can fold his legs around his waist. 

Jason has half a moment to spare a thought on wondering if Slade was referring to the dragon ride as much as Jason was, before Slade kisses him again and starts climbing the stairs. 

He’s not surprised when Slade doesn’t waver under his weight, but when Slade switches from two hands to moving his weight on one forearm and casually runs his other hand across his back, his disbelief stuns him into stillness for an instance. 

“Ridiculous,” he mutters between kisses and pulls himself a little closer to Slade. 

“Not everyone gets me to pull out all stops,” Slade breathes. “Other people are so easily impressed.”

Jason grins. “You had my attention when I first saw you standing next to Myra.” 

“So you’re saying we could’ve done this weeks ago?”, Slade teases and kisses his neck. 

“Perhaps,” Jason laughs, knowing that he fully prefers going into this with all the knowledge he has of Slade now. 

Slade is still sucking on his neck when he removes his one arm from Jason’s back and pushes a door in the wall open. The room is shrouded in the darkness of the night but starlight falls through the big windows and Jason’s so used to black shadows that he can almost see clear as day now. The quarters look similar to his own and, like it is in his, the hidden door to the passageway is right beside Slade’s bed. 

Slade carries him over to the end of the bed and Jason lets go of his neck to let himself fall onto the sheets. Only to reach up and grab Slade’s shirt to pull him down after him. He cannot wait any longer. 

“Boots off, first, love.”

“Who cares,” Jason hisses and leans up further to capture Slade’s mouth in a kiss. 

“The one maid I allow to come in here to clean up.”

“No one will know who it was,” Jason complains, running his hands up Slade’s arms and chasing the bare skin at his neck with his mouth. 

“No,” Slade relents. 

But then he drops onto one knee in front of the bed and starts tugging at Jason’s boot-strings. Suddenly, Jason looses all interest in skipping this part and sits up to watch Slade look up at him while one hand massages his calf and the other loosens the strings. Jason runs his hand through Slade’s hair and grabs his neck, intently waiting for him to be done. 

Slade could be a lot faster, but the pace and rhythm he sets bring Jason right to the edge between impatience and anticipation. Slade looks good on his knee in front of him. Maybe they should’ve done this weeks ago, after all. Slade might’ve not have him all figured out then. 

The second boot drops to the floor and Jason’s heart speeds up once more when he’s leaning back onto the bed and pulling Slade up with him by the neck. 

The sky begins to brighten when Slade’s movements turn languid once and for all, and Jason is way past the point of doing anything other than just savoring every sensation his body can still feel. 

He hums happily and deeply satisfied, more than he ever was, when Slade rolls onto his back and pulls Jason against himself. 

Slade’s hand, even as big as it is, can’t engulf Jason’s shoulder completely and it pleases him. The same way the coarseness of his hands does. He was right in assuming that Slade’s hands are much rougher than his own. 

Jason can now say that every visible scar Slade has are from injuries that should’ve killed him. Those injuries would’ve killed Jason or, with a lot of luck, maimed him for life. He can also say that he has hundreds of tiny, almost invisible scars from a ton of other injuries that healed almost perfectly. He seems to heal stunningly well. 

Unlike Jason’s skin which is peppered with all kinds of scars, still carrying all of his wounds, no matter how unthreatening the injuries were. Some almost faded, some healed badly. But he’s young and a Lord’s son and he doesn’t participate in tourneys, so his collection is but a fraction of Slade’s. 

Even when their skins glide smoothly against each other, their scars, no matter how big or small, catch onto each other and leave a trail of funny sensations and twitches were the skin lost all feeling or has more than it should around the scars. 

Jason’s rarely ever slept with someone who has no scars at all, but it’s never been as intense a sensation as it was tonight. 

Jason rests his head comfortably on Slade’s shoulder and lays a hand over the one Slade has wrapped around him. 

Slade doesn’t strike him as someone who sticks around for the morning after, something that’s made impossible by their positions at court anyway, but Jason isn’t worried about having to hurry back to his own bed for the night, no, morning, either. 

Slade’s nonchalance allows him to spend the night with his partners without a care and not bother with pleasantries in the morning. At least, that is what Jason’s gathered so far. He met people Slade’s been with and people who wanted to be with him. He’s seen Slade interact with them. Which is why Jason knows that his own relationship with Slade is wildly different from the ones they seem to have had with him. 

He’s overthinking this whole thing again. 

“You made it so much more difficult than it had to be,” Jason sighs. 

They could’ve fooled around behind closed doors for however long Jason’s staying in King’s Landing. Without strings and expectations and risking being seen. With the only life-altering high happening between the sheets instead of adding the one on dragonback as well. 

Now, how’s he ever supposed to be satisfied and content without both? 

Slade frees his fingers from under Jason’s and clasps their hands together on Jason’s shoulder. 

“I did,” he agrees. 

“Why?”, Jason questions his motives. 

“Most things are easy for me,” Slade says, looking at Jason. “‘Easy’ lost its charm decades ago.”

Jason hums. “Thought you’d prefer quick, uncomplicated and entertaining nights.” 

“I do. People are a bother and that sucks all the fun out of things. In those cases, I’d rather have things be easy than bothersome.” 

Jason watches the steady rise and fall of Slade’s chest. If he moves his free hand from where it’s resting on Slade’s waist to cover his heart, he’d probably feel a beat just as calm. His own fluttering heart envies Slade’s serenity. 

“Go on.”

“You want me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes,” Jason says, although his guess is fairly well-educated by now. 

“You’ve never bothered me. You’ve never even bored me. You’re interesting and I enjoy the time we spend together. Why would I let this be easy and end fast?” 

Slade’s tone is way too calm while Jason’s gut and heart are doing somersaults. 

“Take it down a notch if you don’t want me catching feelings,” he murmurs into Slade’s shoulder as impassive as he can. 

“You asked.” Slade barely lets him calm down before he speaks again. “Do you want to?” 

“I shouldn’t,” Jason says, feeling oddly defeated. 

Slade, master of casually rocking Jason’s world, hums. “It would certainly be easier if you didn’t,” he says. 

Jason’s head snaps up to look at him stunned. Slade shrugs with his free shoulder, but Jason swears the glint in his eye is amused and challenging. 

“You’re killing me,” he sighs and rest his chin on Slade’s shoulder instead to look at him. “You promised answers.” 

“What do you want to know?”

“What the fuck is going on with you.”

Slade snorts. “A lot.”

“I heard some of your living relatives were born over a hundred years ago.”

“That’s rather uncommon knowledge, but I guess it’s what I should expect from a Wayne,” Slade shakes his head. “I told you about the Els’ unique constitution. Their physicalities are as much an inheritance of Valyria as their dragons are and it’s the same for the Kanes. Similar to them, we’re strong and our senses are a lot better. Unique to us is that we get injured just as easily as other people, but we heal a lot faster and that’s probably why our lives tend to be longer. It’s why I look younger than your father.”  

“You’re older than him, no?”

“Yes.”

Jason starts drawing patterns on Slade’s waist to distract from the unpleasant feeling of this dark thing twisting in his stomach. 

“I know you have a family of your own.”

Slade hums. “They’re in Essos. Their dragons made it a good place to settle and nothing keeps them here.” 

Not even Slade. 

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Tell me more about dragons.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you become a dragonrider?” 

“Usually, they gift an egg to an unborn child and hope it hatches. If that happens, the dragon and child will grow up together. I didn’t get one. As much as you might enjoy calling me that in jest, I am a bastard,” Slade says and seems to almost start laughing at Jason’s wince. “When I was a boy, I snuck out of the castle and went where the dragons live.”

“Not the dragonpit, I assume?”

“No, it was near the Kanes’ castle. There are caves and mountains nearby and apart from the dragons who have or had a rider, even wild ones nest there.”

“Is that all there is? Here in the Pit, there and in Essos.”

“There are a couple loners scattered across Westeros, but in total there are only a few dozen.” 

“So you snuck out and then?”

“I spend time wandering through their land and when I saw Myra, I knew. She did as well and we’ve been together ever since.”  

“Sounds like destiny,” Jason says stunned. “Do you believe in it?”

“Why not?”, Slade shrugs. “Perhaps dragons are gods.” 

Chapter Text

“What do we do now?”, Jason asks while putting his boots back on. 

The sun is about to break into the horizon and they need to begin their day soon. 

“Do you know the way to your room?”, Slade asks, lazily running a hand over Jason’s still bare back. 

The bastard can take his time in bed. He usually shows up late for breakfast anyway and, even if someone should knock on his door, it wouldn’t look weird to find him lying naked in his own bed. 

“Tunnel to the right, stairs down and the first door in the next tunnel.” Jason looks over his shoulder and waits for Slade’s nod. “But that’s not what I meant.” 

“We’ll talk to Bruce and Kal today.” 

“Do you want information or their permission?”

“What would I need their permission for?”

“To get in their good graces, so they’ll cut your head clean off without torturing you when they find out about this,” Jason grins with a gesture to the ruffled bed. 

“I can survive quite a lot, don’t worry.” 

“Well, I can’t,” Jason deadpans. 

Though he’s more worried about his father’s heart giving out than about his own head remaining on his shoulders if he ever finds out. 

With a sigh, he half-heartedly puts on his clothes and moves to leave.

Slade grabs his wrist and pulls him back to kiss his shoulder. “I’ll see you at breakfast, limps and head attached,” he breathes against Jason’s neck and lets him go. 

Jason turns around to kiss him properly before he gets up and disappears through the hidden door. 

Back in his own chambers, he hurries to wash up and change his clothes to appear like he got more sleep than the short nap in Slade’s arms at dawn. More worrying than that is the deep satisfaction overflowing in his gut. He has plenty of practice in hiding tiredness, but he’s never experienced that feeling to this extent before. 

He hopes his worries dampen his mood enough to not seem oddly content while he’s simply sitting at the table eating breakfast. 

All the while he shuffles around the room, Ny watches him curiously. He can probably feel Jason’s nerves. Jason doesn’t feel ready to go out yet. Instead, he lets himself fall onto the bed next to Ny and pats his head. His wolf did a good job of muddling his sheets through the night. The maids won’t know that he spend the night elsewhere. 

He runs his fingers through Ny’s fur and lets everything that happened last night run through his mind. 

Admittedly, he was a bit distracted when they were in the tavern, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. And Slade didn’t act like he did either. In hindsight, Jason is grateful to Matthew for the interruption. After they left, everything was about Slade and him. And, oh, how much he enjoyed being lost in the moment and immersing himself into nothing but Slade. There was something so freeing about being able to let go of everything for a few hours. 

He’s never been good at not shouldering everything he gets slightly involved with. Most of the time by himself. Something that unfortunately runs in the family. His father never figured out how to take breaks or how to step away from a thing if necessary, so it always remained something he told his sons to do, but he couldn’t teach by showing. 

Jason is lucky to have Ny at his side. Falling asleep surrounded by his warmth has done wonders on several dire occasions ever since he was a kid. 

Slade seems to be the complete opposite. He’s very picky about what he decides to take upon himself and care about. Sure, his confidence in his abilities plays a role in the ease he always exudes, but, more than that, it’s that he truly doesn’t care for a lot of things. Or people. 

Jason envies it, although he knows he shouldn’t. 

The only reason why Jason can count on Slade sticking around for now is that contract he has with Kal. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be surprised if Slade just decided to take Myra and leave on a whim Jason could never predict. 

At least, that’s what he thought before yesterday. 

Now, he isn’t so sure anymore. 

But it feels almost blasphemous to think that maybe he could be a reason to stay for. Dragons are gods, after all. He agrees with Slade on that. 

He buries his head into Ny’s fur and decides not to think about it anymore. They’re both on a path of no return and a path that leads nowhere. 

Unless, he gives up everything. 

He groans and Ny licks his face in comfort, which finally gets him out of bed. 

After washing his face once again, he joins his father and Damian for breakfast. 

Damian takes one look at him and raises a questioning eyebrow. Heavens. 

“Don’t ask,” Jason grimaces and steals some of the bread from Damian’s plate. 

“There’s more right in front of you,” Damian complains. 

“Oh, but that doesn’t taste nearly as good as yours, baby brother,” Jason grins at him. 

“You will die by my hands,” Damian grumbles and makes Jason laugh. 

“Boys,” Bruce scolds halfheartedly, right as the King and his sons arrive. 

Jon sits down on Damian’s other side and starts animatedly chatting with him. Jason has honestly no idea how Jon managed to not only not put Damian off completely with this bright and cheery personality but endear him enough to become the best friend Damian’s ever had. 

“I think it’s the doting,” a voice cuts into his thoughts from beside Jason and rips him away from staring at his brother with question-marks in his head. It’s Kon, looking at him with conspiracy and amusement in his eyes. “Every time, Damian comes across any animal, he has to pause to dote on them, too.” 

“Definitely something he learned from our older brother,” Jason chuckles. 

Kon stares at him for a moment before longingly looking out towards the balcony and over the sea. “I envy you.”

“How so?” 

Sure, Jason would never covet Kon’s position as the heir to the throne, but he’s a dragonrider too, for heaven’s sake. There’s nothing Jason would exchange against that. 

Kon scrunches his nose and sighs deeply. 

“Slade may be irritating at times and desperately boring at others, but you get to be around the Kingsguard and investigate this whole thing. Meanwhile, I feel like they’re cramming as many lessons in for me as they can,” Kon pauses for a moment, heavy-hearted. “In case something goes wrong.” 

“It won’t,” Jason shakes his head. 

“I’ll be fine, son,” the King agrees with his usual smile that could rival the sun’s warmth. “I’m just keeping you busy so you don’t stick your nose into our investigations.” 

“Did someone scare the kids?”, Slade joins in and lets the door fall close behind him. 

“No!”, Kon protests, annoyed. 

“You wish,” Damian scoffs, pulling himself away from Jon long for one snarky comment. 

Slade shrugs and plops down on the bench across Jason. Then the mood between them suddenly switches. Slade stares at him with way too much fire in his eye for an instance too long and Jason almost throws the rest of his hard-won bread at him. Instead, Jason breaks the moment by kicking Slade in the chin. 

Amusement flashes across Slade’s face as he’s preparing his own food. 

“I shouldn’t have allowed the two of them in the same room, ever,” Bruce remarks towards Kal, but it’s clearly intended for Jason and Slade to hear. 

Of course, Jason can’t get everything past him. Fuck. 

Slade just rolls his eye, completely unworried. 

“Exactly what I thought after I saw you and Kal look at each other for the first time,” Slade retorts. 

“Gods,” Bruce mutters and draws a hand over his face in exasperation. 

“Don’t take your jokes too far,” Kal says and still manages to sound gentle instead of threatening. 

The other kids weren’t listening, but Bruce notices that Jason doesn’t seem taken aback by Slade’s comment. His head snaps around to furiously glare at Slade, but he just shrugs and takes another bite out of his apple. 

“I won’t judge yours if you don’t judge mine,” Jason offers. 

“When have I ever judged?”

“It hasn’t even been a year since the last time you did,” Jason challenges ad reminds him, “The last time we had guests.”  

“I wasn’t judging,” Bruce argues. “I was merely glad that it didn’t mean anything to you when it was over.” 

Well, this time he wouldn’t shrug it off so easily, Jason thinks. 

A knock sounds from the door and, after the King gives permission, the boys’ teachers enter the dining room to take them away and begin their lessons for the day. 

The three of them excuse themselves and Jason is left alone with a powder keg. Luckily, there’s no fuse in sight and his father and Kal don’t know that there is a hidden one. 

“We need to discuss things,” Slade tells the King and Bruce, as soon as the boys are gone. 

Kal seems to understand that he’s serious and sends the two attendants in the room with them away. He tells the guards to reposition further down the hall and waits a moment. 

“No one can hear us,” Kal nods for Slade to continue. 

“First, I want to know if you have anything new.” 

“How much did you tell Jason?”, Bruce asks, sourly expecting an everything as answer. 

“He knows the cause of death was Nightingale,” Slade begins. “I’ve told him about House Cain, and we’ve been paying attention to any other signs of people with League associations but haven’t seen any. I assume Matthew was in that tavern yesterday for the same reason?”

“It used to be the League’s favorite meeting place in this city, after all,” Bruce smoothly replies and almost makes Jason’s heart stop. 

So Matthew wasn’t there by coincidence. 

“He mentioned you were there,” Bruce continues and does this thing where he’s purposefully completely focused to catch any slight giveaway. “With someone else.”

Thank fuck Jason had a chance to prepare his absolute unmoving expression because of Slade’s question. His heart, however, is hammering in his chest. 

“You know me,” Slade smirks. “Keeping watch alone is just way too boring.” 

“Well, Matthew didn’t see anything of note either.”

“But the League is still our best lead?”, Slade asks. 

“Yes, but not a very fruitful one,” Kal relents. 

Slade nods. “Jason suggested we talk to Talia.” 

Jason’s mouth falls open. “Slade,” he hisses. 

So much for sneaking out before anyone can find out. 

“No,” Bruce objects firmly. 

“Father, she’s our best-“

“You’ll get yourself killed, and you know it,” Bruce interrupts Jason but glares at Slade. “Even if you take Ny, the risk is far too great.” 

“Which is why we’ll go on dragonback,” Slade says, returning Bruce’s look calmly. 

Somehow, Bruce looks even more furious. 

Kal’s gaze, as soft as ever, turns to Jason. 

“Jason, do you know what that might mean?”, Kal asks him. 

Slade rolls his eye. “Kal, people won’t gossip because of this.”

“All the stories I’ve ever heard about riders taking someone else for a flight are romantic ones,” Jason says, slightly irked. Not this again. 

“The stories are about young princes and princesses,” Slade dismisses. “Don’t act like you’ve never taken Bruce.”

Jason shoots his father a surprised look. “You’ve been on dragonback?”

“In… dire circumstances,” Bruce says slowly. 

Slade scoffs but doesn’t say anything. 

“Is that why you’re concerned about rumors?”, Jason asks, stunned. 

Bruce’s face looks like it’s entirely made of stone. 

“And no one remembers anymore,” Slade stresses his point. 

Jason shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. “Either way, I don’t really care. What I care about is solving this. These are dire circumstances.”

Even if that eventually means Slade won’t be anchored to King’s Landing by a contract anymore and Jason’s family might leave for Winterfell sooner rather than later. Subconsciously, he starts tapping his finger against his wrist where he’s leaning on the table. 

“You want to talk to Talia?”, Bruce sighs. 

Jason nods. “Yes. She might have distanced herself from her father, but she’s undoubtedly still keeping an eye on the League.” 

“You’d be painting a blood red target on your back,” Bruce says, displeased, and continues before Jason can protest. “Yes, you’ll be safe on the journey when Slade and Myra take you. But what about at her castle and after you return?”

“I’ll still have Slade,” Jason says firmly, but the glance his throwing Slade is questioning. 

“I’ll take care of your pup, Bruce,” Slade agrees. 

Maybe, after everything that happened, it shouldn’t, but the conviction Jason hears in his tone surprises him. So much so that he almost forgets to glare at Slade for calling him a pup. 

Bruce doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Kal, as the King, could make the decision, but he seems to have no desire to dictate what’s going to happen. 

Bruce massages the back of his neck annoyed, and Jason knows he’ll give in. 

“I suppose you do know what you’re dealing with rather well,” Bruce remarks sourly towards Slade. 

“I wasn’t the only one insane enough to infiltrate the League,” Slade smirks back at him. 

Jason notices Bruce checking his reaction, because he never shared that particular detail with his son. 

“You’ve told him a lot,” Bruce sighs again. 

“Well, why haven’t you?”, Slade asks. 

Bruce looks so exasperated that Kal can’t hold back a fond chuckle. 

“When I was young, I used to take his stories as… inspiration,” Jason admits in a way of explaining. 

“My sons don’t need to know everything, they have enough reckless ideas on their own already,” Bruce mutters towards Kal, defeated. “I don’t need to help them with that.”

Slade acknowledges Bruce for just a moment before he shakes his head at Jason. 

“When I was young,” he mocks. “You’re still a kid, kid.”

Jason wants to make a comment about last night, but he’s not willing to stir that particular hornet’s nest in front of his father and the King. 

Slade seems to know exactly what he’s thinking and enjoys Jason’s torment of staying silent tremendously. 

“Apparently, you both are,” Bruce interrupts them. “Did you plan anything for the journey yet?”

“We’ll go today,” Slade says, surprising Jason with having an actual plan in mind. “We’ll spend as little time as possible at her castle. Ideally, only to ask her what she knows, but she’ll probably insist on having a meal together.”

“Decline it,” Bruce says. 

“Father,” Jason rolls his eyes at him. “You know I can’t do that.”

“No raven or horse will be fast enough to get there before we leave her. Having a dragon will give us time,” Slade continues. “After we leave, we won’t come back immediately. We’ll spend a few days out there traveling.”

“If you make haste and come back at once, the targets on you will be as good as carved in stone,” Bruce nods. “Making Talia one of multiple visits will sow the doubt you’ll need.” 

“We’ll tell the boys where you are, once you’re gone,” Kal says and gets up from his seat. “Not a single person other than us should find out before you’re safely on your way,” he continues, in that warm and serious tone Jason can’t help but find comfort in. 

Kal starts walking towards the door, but stops next to Slade to rest a hand on his shoulder. A certain kind of gentleness slips into Kal’s voice along with solemnity, “Take good care of him, Slade.” 

“It’s in my contract, remember?” 

“Perhaps we should be honored to appear in one of your, oh, so important contracts. And not the kind that asks you to assassinate one of us, at that,” Kal remarks and winks at Jason with the warmest smile he’s ever seen before he leaves the room. 

Bruce lingers. 

Slade looks so expectantly at Bruce that Jason decides he doesn’t want to hear what either of them has to say. 

“It’s good you’re telling Damian after we’re gone. Otherwise, he’d insist on coming with us,” Jason starts to deflect. 

“I’ll promise him that we’ll visit Talia before we head back north. Or once the situation calms down if we have to stay longer,” Bruce says. Then, he asks after a moment, “You’ll be okay? Going with him?”

Slade rolls his eye when Bruce inclines his head towards him at the latter question but remains in the comfortable position he’s kept all this time and simply waits for Jason to answer. 

“Yes,” he says with the appropriate amount of conviction his father needs to hear. And adds, even though it’s said in vain, “Don’t worry too much.”

Slade and him have spent weeks together now. He can handle Slade. Most of the time. 

“The one thing I never wanted to involve any of my sons with is the League of Assassins.”

“Even if anyone else could go, I would still rather do it myself,” Jason smiles a little apologetically. 

“I know,” Bruce sighs and stands up to follow the King. 

And, like Kal, he pauses next to Slade and says with gritted teeth, “Don’t leave him out of your sight. Ever.”

Jason’s too taken aback to even complain. 

Slade nods. 

“You wouldn’t believe the kind of talent Jason has for running into bad situations. So be there,” Bruce presses. 

“Father…”, Jason starts, but he doesn’t know how to assure him without giving empty promises. The protest falls flat. 

Bruce rounds the table and gives Jason a kiss on the forehead. 

“Take care of yourself, son,” he murmurs and leaves the room.  

The silence is a little too heavy for Jason’s taste after the door falls closed behind Bruce. 

But such a thing probably doesn’t exist for Slade. Slade’s foot finds Jason’s to trap it under the table between them. 

“Wha-?”

“We’re found out,” Slade interrupts him. 

“What?”, Jason asks confused. 

“When we were talking about the person Matthew saw with me, you kept your face perfectly calm. I was impressed. But if I could hear your heart race, Kal definitely could too.”

“What?” 

“I doubt he’ll tell Bruce,” Slade says, calm as ever. 

Jason groans in defeat. “It was always going to be just a matter of time until Bruce finds out.”

“True,” Slade shrugs. 

Jason kicks his chin. “But what do you mean you can hear my heart race?”, he hisses. 

Slade grimaces. “People usually react badly to that particular piece of information, and it makes them more nervous which makes their hearts all frantic, always, so I tend to not tell anybody. It’s a benefit of my heightened senses.” 

Jason just stares at him. “So you can-?”

“Yes. I can hear your heart beat.”

“Which means you know everything.“

Slade gets up and walks around the table. “I don’t. The heart and mind are different things,” he says, sliding a leg over the bench to sit and face Jason. “And I’m damn good at reading people either way.” 

“But you can tell what I’m trying to hide. You know when I lie.”

“Just hearing doesn’t get you very far. A lot of things can influence the beating of a heart,” Slade says and leans on the table to rest his head in his hand. 

Jason desperately tries to not be conscious of white strands of hair falling over Slade’s eye and his own heart kicking up at how gorgeous this man is. The more he thinks about either, the more his heart will give him away. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

“But I can tell when you’re flustered,” Slade says, his gaze intense and voice deep. “I can tell when you’re worried. And I can tell when you’re aroused.” 

“Not fair,” Jason whispers. 

Slade’s tone almost made him forget to breathe. 

And still his voice gets lower and more intense. “If you wanted fair, you should’ve offered one of the young Ladies at the banquet a dance. Or taken one of the young Lords that were glancing at you all evening up to your quarters.”

“Maybe, I should’ve,” Jason grits out, even though he never wanted to. 

“Do you even remember their faces?”, Slade asks. “I do. Every single one.” 

Jason’s eyes widen a bit in surprise. After a moment, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t. Not one,” he murmurs. 

But he does remember every face that looked a little too interested in Slade. Oh. 

“Jason, this might be new to you, but it’s normal for me. I already know your heart.” 

Ah. Fuck. This might be bad. 

It’s getting even harder to breathe and Jason feels like liquid fire is running through his veins. 

“I said ‘take it down a notch’,” he rasps. 

“You said ‘take it down a notch if I don’t want you to catch feelings’”, Slade corrects. “What if I do?”

“Heavens, shut up,” Jason gets out before he grabs Slade’s shirt and pulls him even closer. He meets Slade in the middle for a hungry kiss, just to quench the worst of his desire. “You know what I want, right?” 

Slade chuckles into the kiss. “I do,” he rumbles. 

He pulls Jason into his lap and stands up with Jason clinging onto him just like the evening before.  

“You adapt fast to things, but I did think it would take you a couple hours at least,” Slade teases when he walks over to the hidden door in this room and opens it. 

“Right now, I can take advantage of it,” Jason purrs into his neck. “I wanna figure some things out I couldn’t have noticed last night.” 

“You’re unbelievable,” Slade says and grabs ahold of Jason’s nape to kiss him in the darkness of the tunnels on their way to his bed. 

Chapter Text

“We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready. It’ll take a few hours to get there. We’ll talk, we’ll stay for dinner and, when it’s dark, we’ll leave and Myra will be invisible against the night sky,” Slade goes through their plan. 

He just got out of bed for the second time today and is picking his riding gear together. Jason busies himself with stretching to stay just a moment longer. 

“It’s already past noon,” Jason sighs.

“Someone didn’t want to stop,” Slade taunts, standing next to him beside the bed. 

“You didn’t either,” Jason grins. 

The palm that squeezes his hip is big and warm. 

“I didn’t,” Slade agrees. 

Jason catches his wrist and stops him from walking away. He rolls onto his back to properly look up at Slade and considers what he can say. 

“I don’t know what will happen now, or how fast. We’ll just have to make it work.”

“We will,” Slade says determined, not even asking wether he was talking about their or the court’s affairs. 

Not that Jason has an answer for that. 

Slade twists his hand around in the hold Jason still has on his wrist to grab Jason’s forearm and pulls him up to sit. 

“Come, we have to wash up,” Slade grumbles and pushes Jason’s sweaty hair out of his face. “You smell far too much like me.” 

Jason makes a face at Slade’s satisfied tone and slides out of bed to walk over to the tub. 

Last night, Slade at least had enough time to warm up the water before Jason got in. But he doesn’t regret exchanging hot bathing water against holding onto Slade for a bit longer. Besides, he’s used to the cold rivers and lakes in the north. The slight chill running over his skin when he enters the tub isn’t even uncomfortable. 

Slade joins him and, again unlike last night, they don’t linger. 

But Jason does get a better look at Slade’s chambers than he did in the darkness and distractions of the night. It looks almost identical to his own. Not only because of its layout and the interior but also because of how spartan yet adequate it looks. 

There are personal items that make the room unmistakably Slade’s. The sword leaning next to his bed, much like Jason’s, other weapons and clothes, especially the rider’s clothes he laid out on the bed. But it’s not much more than Jason himself has in his room. 

It looks like the room of a guest. 

“Where do you actually live?”, Jason asks when he gets out of the tub, feigning absent-mindedness. 

“Dragonstone,”, Slade says, equally as nonchalant. “It’s not really a home, but it’s the place I return to most often.” 

“I thought dragonstone is deserted,” Jason frowns. 

“It is, which is why I like it,” Slade shrugs. “It belongs to the heir to the throne who’s here in King’s Landing because Kal doesn’t have a brother and Kon isn’t old enough to leave. One day, when Kon has a family, he might move there. Until the day comes when he has to return to King’s Landing to be crowned the next king.” 

The thought makes Jason’s skin crawl. Succession itself is a disgusting, vile thing. 

Slade considers his stillness. “You’re not fond of it?”

“It’s awful,” Jason says, just a tiny bit nauseous. 

Slade, dripping wet from head to toe, joins him at the table and pulls at the cloth wrapped around Jason’s hips to maneuver him into leaning against it. 

“That’s what heirs do. They either hope and pray for their fathers to have a short life or they hope and pray for them to have a long life,” Slade says darkly. “What about you, second son? Do you pray for two lives? Or do you pray for a third one, a nephew that might push you further down the line of succession?” 

“I don’t think about it like that,” Jason grits out and meets Slade’s clear blue eye with stormy ones. 

“But how can you not?”, Slade asks. “All the things you were taught in life weren’t only for yourself. A significant part of it was for a terrible fate that neither Bruce, nor Richard, nor you want to see happen.” 

“I don’t want to think about it like that,” Jason hisses. 

Sometimes, on bad days or in bad moments, he can’t help it. He used to be very familiar with the frightening feeling he sometimes got when he was attending a lesson on something that he shouldn’t have to know. Not if Bruce and Dick grow old. 

Years later, he’d see Tim attend some of these lessons and his blood would run cold. 

“Your father is thorough and careful and awfully paranoid. Of course, he would give all of you the same education,” Slade says, his fingers, kneading into the flesh on Jason’s hip, relieve the sickening feeling in his stomach a little. “It’s why your family is strong. Tragedies happen, but stupidity, incompetence or unpreparedness won’t kill any of you.”

“I know,” Jason says and means it from the bottom of his heart. Most of his worries lie in the past. It’s just… “But we have the tendency to endanger ourselves for the sake of others.”

Slade’s look is so icy it sends a chill down Jason’s spine. “Don’t ever do that,” he says firmly. “They’re not worth it.”

Jason’s expression darkens. “I can’t promise you that.”

“Luckily, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you at all times from now on,” Slade drawls. 

“Did you want to spook me just to reassure me?”, Jason raises a questioning eyebrow and balls his fist against Slade’s still damp chest. 

“No. I wanted to know what you think about succession and your role in it,” Slade says, leaning in to kiss his neck. 

Jason is so distracted that he only notices that Slade is kissing water droplets off his skin a moment later. 

“Why didn’t you ask that?”, Jason breathes out and buries his fingertips into Slade’s upper arm. 

Slade interrupts the mapping of his neck to look Jason in the eye. “What would you have said? Would you have even thought about your answer?”

“Normally, I’d say that I’m prepared but don’t plan to use those skills.”

Slade cocks his head. “That’s meaningless to me. It’s the answer your House’s vassals count on. I’m not one of them.”

“Does any of this matter to you?” 

Slade pauses for a moment to study Jason’s doubtful expression and choose his words wisely. 

“Your interest in or obligation to your succession decides what can happen between us.” 

“What?”, Jason asks, dazed. 

The answer’s always been not much. The only questions Jason’s ever considered were how long and how discreet. 

“I’m free, Jason. I can do what I want,” Slade says slowly. 

Something in Jason’s heart breaks even though he knew. He knew Slade wasn’t chained to anyone or anything except for the occasional deals he voluntarily agrees to. 

“There’s nothing I desire more in the world,” Jason whispers, a core truth never once said. 

“Really?”, Slade taunts and runs a finger down his hipbone. 

Jason suppresses a shiver and catches Slade’s wrist just to hold onto something. 

“You and freedom are so closely intertwined, I don’t know the difference anymore,” Jason sighs. 

“It’s in your hands.”

Jason can’t truly consider it. “I won’t turn my back on my family.”

“Your succession and your family aren’t the same thing,” Slade says, as if it is that simple. “And I get the feeling you’re a dragon as much as you are a wolf.”

“And you’re a snake as much as you are a dragon,” Jason jests and flicks him on the stomach, but Slade looked oddly serious for saying something so ridiculous. 

Slade rolls his eye and steps away from Jason, who’s still leaning against the table, now dry except for the few drops that still fall from his hair down his torso. 

“Come on. Your brother’s mother is waiting for us,” Slade says and throws Jason’s shirt at him. “She just doesn’t know it yet.” 

Jason pulls his shirt on and watches Slade do the same. 

“Do you think you can let me out of your sight so I can sneak to my chambers and pack some things?”

“If you promise to make noise should something happen.”

“I will, as long as you don’t ask me to scream,” Jason grins. 

“I’d never make you in this situation. But feel free to, always.” 

Luckily, Slade happens to walk by Jason at the right moment and he gets to kick him in the chin. Slade doesn’t even flinch. 

“Your enhancements are so bothersome.”

“My apologies,” Slade says insincerely and comes back to him to hand him something. “One of the bags for Myra’s saddle. Put your stuff in here.” 

“Heavens, you dragonriders are so lucky, it’s twice as big as something a horse could carry.”

“And she’s big enough to carry several,” Slade notes, the openness of this expression betraying his satisfaction and pride. 

Jason stares at him for a moment to drink in this version of Slade. Any time he talks about Myra there’s something serene about him. Something more than his usual confidence and calm. 

“But we’ll have to carry these ourselves because we’ll be going through the tunnels to reach the Dragonpit.”

“No one’s supposed to know that we’ll leave the city before we’re gone,” Jason nods and takes the saddlebag from Slade. 

Ny is waiting in his chambers for him and greets him with a little more sniffing than usual. Jason supposes that a quick bath can only do so much and his clothes must smell like Slade regardless. He strips out of them and gladly exchanges them for his riding clothes. He’s still careful about putting them on and tugging everything in it’s proper place. The novelty hasn’t waned and he doubts he’ll ever be less fascinated by dragons. Or, to be precise and fully honest, by Myra. 

Sure, Kal’s dragon is impressive and the boys’ dragons are beautiful, but Myra has his heart in a way that isn’t even entirely Slade’s fault. Something about her golden eyes captivates his soul and her gorgeousness makes him adore shadows. 

He can’t wait to to be up in the skies with Slade and her again. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have a lot to pack. A few extra clothes, a few extra weapons, his sword, which will always stay on his hip no matter where he goes, and a book he wants to gift Talia. 

It doesn’t take long for the hidden door beside Jason’s bed to open again. Slade enters with his own saddlebag which is much more filled than Jason’s. 

“Anything I should know about where we’re going other than Harrenhal?”

“No, I got everything,” Slade waves him off. 

Jason nods and looks around his chambers one last time before he motions for Ny to follow Slade back into the tunnels. This time, Jason grabs a torch off of his wall and lights it before stepping into the darkness. 

“I’ll forget what the real hallways and staircases look like,” Jason mutters with a shake of his head. 

By now, he can tell when Slade enters a tunnel Jason hasn’t been in before. One that leads them directly to the Dragonpit. Ny however seems familiar with it. 

It’s never happened before that Ny shared insight into something with someone other than him first. And sure, it’s owed to Slade’s utter lack of fear of the giant wolf, but it’s also because his wolf was willing to follow Slade through the tunnels and into the castle.  

Slade and Ny stop at the same time to turn to look at Jason. His heart misses a beat at the sight. Their shared understanding of him and the situation is eerie, but it stirs a pleasant feeling in his gut to life. The tunnel that’s splitting off from here must be the one that leads outside the walls of the city. 

Jason hands over his torch to Slade without a word to give Ny a proper hug. He promises to be back soon and Ny disappears into the tunnels. 

Slade leads the rest of the way and soon they emerge somewhere in the caves of the Dragonpit. Jason would be utterly lost, but Slade seems to know exactly where Myra is. 

She greets them with expectant golden eyes and purrs when she sees the saddlebags they’re carrying. 

Of course, when they exit the caves, the dragonkeepers weren’t expecting them. Jason returns their baffled looks with a curt nod and watches Slade carry the saddle and prepare it. Technically, he knows how strong Slade is, but it’s gonna take a while to get used to it. With anyone else he’d be worried that they might break under the weight of the saddle like a twig, Slade makes it look way too easy. The speeding of his heart and the heat pooling in his gut make him shift on his feet in hopes they’ll be up in the air and away from prying eyes soon. 

Myra, waiting and watching next to him, huffs in a way that Jason has come to understand is her laughing. 

“I know you’re on his side, but why do you have to make fun of me?”, he sighs and, without thinking, jabs her lightly on the shoulder. 

Jason doesn’t even consider that he maybe shouldn’t hit a dragon, no matter how inconsequential and light it might feel to her, until he sees the terrified look on a dragonkeeper’s face. He seems to fully expect Jason getting his head bit off. 

Oddly enough, the sounds she makes now just warm his heart. 

“Oh, I get to do all the work and you get to entertain my dragon?”, Slade grumbles as he’s walking over to them. “I haven’t seen her laugh so much since she met you as a kid, really.” 

“Always happy to be the funny kid she gets to meet every ten years or so,” Jason grins. 

“I don’t think she wants to let you go this time,” Slade says. 

Jason’s so dumbfounded, Slade has to take his wrist and drag him to the pillars where Myra’s already stepping under the saddle. Slade goes through the same routine, then he fastens the saddlebags and again offers Jason an arm to hold onto until he’s sitting safely behind him on her back. 

Myra unfolds her wings and they’re up in the sky in a matter of moments. 

This time, Myra steers away from the sea and glides through the sky towards Harrenhal. 

“You can catch up on sleep if you want to,” Slade turns his head to say. 

But Jason is on the back of a dragon and has his arms wrapped around Slade’s waist. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment. 

He gets up out of the saddle just a little bit, faith in his balance, in Slade’s promise to not let him fall and Myra’s swiftness unshakable, and leans over Slade’s shoulder to kiss him. 

“I’ll take as much as you’ll give me,” Jason says. 

“Even freedom?”, Slade asks, looking dead serious. “Your own freedom?” 

Something painful twists in Jason’s heart. Longing, hope, doubt and responsibility pulling it in different directions. 

“That’s not something you can give me,” he mutters and buries his head in Slade’s neck. 

He hates how much he yearns for this. 

For Slade’s life, essentially. 

“No, it’s not that easy,” Slade nods. “But I might be able to offer you a chance to take it yourself.” 

“It would require a miracle.”

“Yes.” Slade pauses for a long moment. “I don’t know if you’ll get your miracle. But either way, you need to decide if freedom is something you want to keep dreaming about, or if the cost for obtaining it, whatever it may be, is something you can live with.” 

“I know what it would cost me,” Jason sighs. 

He’s thought about it a lot. It vexes him that it’s entirely Slade’s fault that he’s had to seriously consider this. 

If this meant nothing to him, it would be so much easier. He could go back to Winterfell in a couple of weeks or months and not miss anything about King’s Landing. He’d get home and carry no regrets, no new yearning. 

And, as much as he enjoys being around Myra and as much as it would hurt to never get to fly again, it’s not her alone that makes it so hard. If all he wanted was that and a few nights with Slade, he’d ask him to come visit Winterfell once in a while. And maybe he’d go out of his way to travel to wherever Slade is at times. And it would be enough. 

He’d get to stay in Winterfell, stay with his family. He’d return to the space he so insistently and rebelliously carved out for himself over the years, as the rogue of the family, the son that breaks order more times than anyone cares to count anymore. 

As far as what’s permitted for someone in his position, both his family and himself have pushed boundaries that allow for a life much more comfortable than all the other Lords’ sons he’s met over the years get. Not that he’s never had to fight to not feel trapped or powerless, but Winterfell and his family make up for it. So do his growth and the lenience he took for himself. If he ignores the yearning and loneliness that sometimes try to crush his soul, he’s content where he is. 

But that’s not all he wants. He wants more. 

He wants Slade.

In a way that meeting a few times a year won’t suffice. 

So once again, he’s thinking about what not letting go of Slade would cost him. 

It’s hard to even consider it in a moment like this where he’s quite literally clinging to Slade. And he has a feeling that the more he gets to hold onto him, the more reluctant he will be to let go. 

He turns the thoughts over and over in his head until he gets sick of it. 

If Winterfell didn’t know a Jason Wayne, he’d perhaps just go with his gut feeling. But the luxury of being unknown seems to have eluded him in this life. 

Chapter Text

It’s late afternoon when they arrive in Harrenhal. 

Jason stopped trying to break his head open with never ending thoughts a while ago and began to mindlessly watch the ground travel by hundreds of feet below them. It’s a gorgeous sight. The subtle changes in the evergreen meadows and forests, the winds enveloping them and the rhythm of Myra’s wings and Slade’s breathing are entrancing. 

He’s almost dozing a little when Slade taps on his thigh to get his attention. Just in time before Myra takes a deep breath and roars across the land to announce their arrival. 

The castle is already well within sight, which means if Talia’s guards are as good as they should be, they spotted them before they heard them. 

It’s a dark and ominous looking thing, half destroyed by fire, and seemingly sucking the color out of its surroundings. Jason’s seen it loom over him several times when he approached on horseback or with his wolf. This is the first time he gets to look down on it. The difference in perspective makes his fingertips itch with relish. 

Myra circles the castle a couple times and then lowers herself to set foot in front of the gates just like she did in Winterfell. 

Slade glides out of the saddle and drops to the ground and Jason does the same without faltering. 

“You’re a natural,” Slade mutters with amusement in the corner of his mouth before he turns to the knights who have come out to greet them. 

One of them steps forward, much less confident than he’s supposed to because of the dragon curling up to rest behind them. 

“Milady wishes to greet you,” he speaks up and looks to Jason with hidden confusion. “But she is only expecting one of you.” 

“We’re both going,” Slade says, bored, and takes a step towards the gates. 

Jason is impressed when the one who spoke actually has the guts to block Jason’s way. 

Slade looks so annoyed Jason thinks the poor guy might find himself knocked on his ass, but he’s saved by a knight running out of the city. Jason remembers seeing him at Talia’s side before. 

At first, he noticed him because he was rather young to be in a spot so close to her. Younger than Jason and just as cute back then as he still is now, which is why he remembers him so well. The glances between them turned into a little more. 

“Let him come,” the young knight stammers, clearly not holding the authority here. “Milady will be happy to see Jason Wayne.”

Upon hearing his name, the other doesn’t protest anymore, glad to get out of Slade’s focus and lets them follow the knight without another word. 

“I’m surprised you recognized me. It’s been a couple years since you were at her side when she visited Winterfell,” Jason says, trying to casually poke a sleeping bear, not knowing how much he’ll care about being woken up. 

Maybe Slade has too much confidence in himself to care about such trivial past relations. He hopes not. 

“I could never forget,” the knight dares to mutter in a way that makes the nature of their past acquaintance fairly obvious. 

Jason can feel Slade’s eye bore into him. Heh. 

“I didn’t either,” Jason smiles at him, ignoring Slade. 

And it’s the truth. The knight, Sam if he remembers correctly, was a great partner. He enjoyed their time together a lot and if there’s one thing Talia looks for in her guards, it’s discretion. 

“Are you planning on staying?” 

“I’m afraid not. We’re just here to rest for a few hours,” Jason lies. 

“Oh,” Sam sighs regretfully. 

But he was never one to let himself feel down for long and, by the time they’re standing in front of the giant doors to Harrenhal’s big hall, he’s happily chatting with Jason like he used to. 

The guards open the doors for them and they enter the room. The walls are high, the stone is dark and the architecture is truly imposing. In the middle of the floor is a giant table and Talia, leaning over it with her back to the door. 

“Your guests are here, Milady,” Sam announces. 

“Guests?”, she questions, too occupied with writing something to turn around immediately. “I never thought I’d see the day when Slade Kane lets someone else fly on his oh-so-precious dragon.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Slade says and levels her an unimpressed look as she turns around. 

“It really is,” Jason smiles sincerely and, finally, she sees him. 

Her face lights up with delighted surprise before confusion clouds it. 

“Jason,” she greets and steps away from the table to come towards him. She brings her hand up to cup his cheek and gives him a concerned look. “You two came here together?” 

“Yes,” Jason nods, not sure what he’s supposed to do with the seemingly complicated history between Talia and Slade. “I have something to talk to you about.” 

“It was your idea to come? So why is he here?”, Talia asks with a frown. 

“He is here to make sure the kid stays alive,” Slade says, unconcerned. 

“It’s true. He’s here to help,” Jason relents before the annoyance in Talia’s face can turn into words. “Can we speak somewhere privately?” 

“Sure, darling,” she nods and lets him go to lead the way. When she hears two sets of feet follow her, she turns around to look at Jason. “I can make him stay here,” she offers. 

“You can’t,” Slade says and he sounds absolutely sure of it. “His father asked me to keep an eye on him. Always.”

“He should come,” Jason nods. 

Talia shrugs and continues on her way to the back of the hall but regards Slade with a frown. “Since when do you do what Bruce asks you to do?”

“Since him and I want the same thing,” Slade shrugs. 

Something horrible seems to dawn on her and Jason’s apologetic look confirms it. 

“Jason…” She sighs. “Did you think this through?”

“No,” he admits. “But I’m not clueless either.” 

“If you want a reason to not continue whatever it is you two have, I can give you plenty,” Talia offers, uncaring that Slade is walking right behind them. 

“I don’t,” Jason shrugs. “Besides, I know enough of those.” 

“Right. I can’t imagine Bruce wouldn’t inform you before letting Slade close to you.”

“Let me?”, Slade snorts under his breath, not expecting them to acknowledge his comment. 

Talia’s sharp eyes regard Slade for a moment. “I also can’t imagine Bruce would let you come here together if he knew about the two of you.”

“I don’t know if I’ll let him stop me,” Jason says, raising challenging eyes at her. 

“He’s not only your father, he’s also your Lord.” 

“I’m aware,” he says gravely. 

“I don’t recommend having a complicated relationship with your father, especially when he’s a sovereign as well,” Talia says and Jason can only acknowledge it. She of all people would know a thing or two about that. She surprises him by squeezing his hand in encouragement. “But you do what you have to. Not only to survive but to live.” 

“We’re actually here about that,” Slade cuts in. “You owe this visit to your father.”

“I figured. Otherwise, Jason could’ve come alone. A direwolf should be able to make the journey in a day, and I know you’ve been in King’s Landing for a while,” she tells Jason and opens a heavy door to a rather dusty and bare looking room. “And I know why Bruce is there. You can talk freely,” she continues after Slade closes the door behind them. 

“It was an assassination and the assassin used nightingale,” Slade says before Talia even rounds the heavy table in the middle of the room. 

She looks up at him, considering, then halts and sets the tips of her fingers on the table, lightly tapping on it. “I see.” 

“Did he do it?”, Jason asks. 

“I don’t know for sure,” Talia says, and it sounds like a concession she doesn’t like to make. “But it got him what he wants. Bruce as the Hand.” 

Jason’s brows narrow in confusion. “Why would he want that?”

“Once upon a time, Ra’s wanted Bruce to inherit his own position. Bruce… declined,” Talia begins. Slade seems to already know something about this. “Then Ra’s wanted him to be king. Of course, even he acknowledges that Bruce won’t ever deliberately take the crown from Kal. I don’t know if he gave up on that idea, but making Bruce the Hand is either a stepping stone towards that goal or the next best thing. Or, maybe even better, Bruce can work in the shadows from his new position.”

“Why would Ra’s want to give Bruce power?” 

“I’ve told you that the League see themselves as a necessary evil that keeps the continent on the right path,” Talia says and Jason vaguely remembers her explaining to him what the League of Assassins even is almost a decade ago. “Ra’s believes that Bruce is someone who can do what needs to be done. He thinks Kal is too weak.” 

“Then this may be a test,” Slade contemplates. “He might be satisfied with Bruce being the Hand until Kal does something he deems ‘too weak’. He’ll allow it until he thinks Bruce’s influence isn’t enough.”

“That’s my guess,” Talia agrees. 

“Do you know who might’ve done it?” 

“There were no unusual League movements at the time, but there are always a couple dozen members in King’s Landing who would carry out an order like that.” 

Slade shakes his head dismissively. “We’ll crush the assassins, but it’s more important to know who’s behind it.” 

“How sure are you?”, Jason asks. 

“Fairly,” Talia shrugs, but her hawk eyes are watching Slade. 

“We’ll make sure before we let his head roll,” Slade promises. 

“What?”, Jason gapes at her, when she only nods. 

He knows their relationship became worse and worse, but it must take a lot for a daughter, especially a daughter like Talia, to quietly accept her father’s fate. 

She steps around the table and stands close to Jason to push a strand of his hair behind his ear. 

“I’m tired, darling,” she smiles joylessly. “Those are his decisions and he can take care of himself.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says genuinely. 

She doesn’t deserve this. 

“You’ll never find your father opposing you on a battlefield. I’m glad for that,” she whispers, running her thumb across his cheek. 

For the first time since he was a boy, he hugs her. Ra’s isn’t her only family, even though Damian doesn’t have her name and she didn’t give birth to Jason. 

“You won’t ever have to fight Dami or me,” he swears. 

She lets him go and cups the back of his head to guide it down and press a kiss to his forehead. 

“I know, baby,” she murmurs. “Come on,” she composes herself and steps back from him. “Let’s go eat.”

Jason isn’t quite past the nightmare scenario of having to face his father in battle. He follows Talia, buried deep in his thoughts, through tall hallways. Absentmindedly, he wonders how much strength it took her to break her father’s cycle and do so much better with her own child, even if she had a bit of a rough start. 

Slade nudges him back to awareness when Talia leads them into her personal dining room. 

“You can’t give me this dinner with Jason?”, Talia asks Slade. “You really won’t let him out of your sight? Even with me here?”

“I won’t,” Slade says unapologetically. 

“Fine,” she says, clipped. “But know that my father could never get past me to hurt him.” 

“That may be,” Slade just says and settles into one of the chairs around the table. 

“This doesn’t bother you?”, Talia asks Jason, who’s sitting down between her, at the head of the table, and Slade. 

“Well, at first I wanted to refuse because I can take care of myself and I thought he might be  underestimating me. I’m fortunate I didn’t get the chance to blurt out my first instinct,” he grins crookedly. “Because I really don’t mind it.” 

“I’m surprised.”

“I do think father’s request is a bit much and I’d despise it, if I felt like he was hovering, but I like the company,” Jason shrugs. 

That seems to actually amaze her. 

“I’m only terrible company when I want to be,” Slade tells her. 

“You like to make your presence everyone’s problem, unless there’s something you like more, which is rare,” she accuses. “And I know how picky Jason is.” 

“Oh, please,” Jason complains, because she’s about to bring that up again. 

“There are so many fine knights and princesses in my court, yet you only ever gave your time of day to one of them,” she shakes her head. “You chose well, but you chose scarcely.” 

Jason glares at Talia, but he can feel Slade raise an eyebrow at him. 

“The little knight is that special, huh?” 

“And he still isn’t promised to anyone,” Talia suggests with a sly smile. 

“He’ll find someone good,” Jason says, genuinely wishing for it. 

“Oh, darling,” Talia sighs. 

Her tone, somewhere between melancholy and worry and happiness, tells him that she’s figured out how serious he is about Slade.  

He’s saved from Slade having enough time to work out what Talia conveyed in a single sigh by the food being served. They eat and Talia keeps threatening Slade and encouraging Jason in her uniquely elegant but clear manner. 

Jason can’t say he doesn’t enjoy seeing Slade and her bicker. The balance they achieve between genuine intentions and superficial digs seems fragile at first, but the more Jason watches, the more he sees how familiar they are with this particular game. He grins to himself, and almost gets caught in the crossfire when both sides question his sanity for enjoying himself in the other’s presence. 

He laughs more that evening than he would’ve expected or hoped for. 

Until it’s time to leave and Talia accompanies them outside and pulls Jason aside. Slade gives them a moment and joins Myra. Somehow she knows when they’re out of Slade’s hearing range. 

“Are you happy?”

Jason frowns, trying to put a genuine answer into words. 

“In a way, yes. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing, but it’s not his fault. He’s given me everything I’ve asked for.”

“Then ask for what’s missing.”

“I haven’t quite figured out what that is.”

“You have time. So much time,” she smiles. “And when you do, ask for it. And if he can’t give you that, move on.”

“Most people would settle for what they have,” Jason says, stomach turning into knots at the notion of simply moving on. 

“Don’t,” Talia squashes the notion as if it was downright ridiculous. “You’re missing something. I can tell. So go get it, whatever and wherever it is.”

“I will,” Jason smiles and hopes he can keep his word. 

He hugs her close, in silent apology and comfort, and says his goodbyes. 

“What was that?”, Slade asks when Jason joins him, buried in contemplation. 

“She thinks I’m missing something. Like I’m not entirely complete.”

“I think so, too,” Slade nods. 

“What?”, Jason asks perplexed. 

“I’d hoped to remedy that on this journey.”

Jason’s stunned. Slade looks dead serious. 

“Good,” he composes himself and jests. “She says I should leave you if you can’t.”

“I agree,” he says and reaches his arm down for Jason to hold onto as he climbs into the saddle. 

“No,” Jason shoves his shoulder away the two inches Slade lets him. “Neither of you get to take my happiness away just because you think it’s incomplete. So what if it is?”

Slade turns around and cups his face with a leather-clad palm. Jason glances at their audience, but it’s far into the night and no one but Talia dared to step close enough to the dragon to still make out shapes. 

Jason turns away from them and meets Slade’s bright blue eye. 

“I won’t take anything from you. What you decide to hold onto is your decision. I want to gift you something.”

Slade turns around, leaving Jason to contemplate his words, and Myra heaves herself into the sky. Her black shadow quickly disappears in the darkness and the ground below them becomes indistinguishable to Jason despite the bit of moonlight. His only sense of direction is his intuition. He thinks Myra is heading somewhere north of King’s Landing. 

“Where are we going?”, he asks, now that they’re far away from all other ears. 

“The castle I grew up in,” Slade answers. 

“The Kane’s castle?”

As far as he knows, it’s a hundred miles north of King’s Landing. 

“Yes,” Slade answers. “Sleep, Jason, we’ll be there at dawn.” 

Chapter Text

Jason wakes just before the sun breaks over the horizon. 

He wakes to the low, satisfied rumble of Myra and Slade’s hand squeezing his thigh just above his knee. 

“Welcome back, love,” Slade rumbles amused, his voice somehow matching Myra’s, and catches Jason blinking away the last of his bleariness.  

The day before, Jason assumed he’d feel like he fell off a horse after a whole night of flying, but with Myra between his thighs, Slade to lean on and the blanket Slade must’ve draped around him, he’s comfortable and well-rested. 

Jason raises his head from Slade’s shoulder and fastens his loose arms around his middle. 

“Morning, love,” Jason whispers and leans forward to kiss his neck, just below his ear, catching the strap of the eyepatch with the corner of his mouth. 

Slade’s fingers dig harder into his thigh. 

“We’re almost there,” Slade says with a look towards the mountains in front of him. “Not that they’d care.”

“They?”

“Dragons,” Slade smirks just as Jason sees two of them circling in the sky just miles away. 

“I take it this trip wasn’t for you to introduce me to your family?”

“No, I don’t have any,” Slade chuckles. “It’s her family we’re here to see.”

As if she heard his words, Myra takes a deep breath and roars across the lands. 

Jason can see shadows and spots of color move between the mountains. Dozens of them. He holds his breath and listens to the dragons bellow back at her.  

The rising sun catches them, still flying high up in the sky, and Myra dives towards the dragons back into the shadows still lingering on this side of the mountains. 

“Slade,” Jason whispers, sure that he will hear despite the wind whipping around them. “Slade, gods.” 

“They are, aren’t they?”, Slade purposefully misunderstands with amusement. 

“Yes,” Jason breathes out. 

Myra slows her descend and circles over three smaller dragons, who rake their necks towards her as if they were chicks, waiting for their mother to come and feed them. All three of them are a shade of black-red and their eyes shimmer golden. 

“Her fledglings?”, Jason asks, stunned. 

“Yes,” Slade rumbles, pleased. 

Myra carefully sets down on the rocky ground near the young ones and stretches her neck to exchange her beloved head-rubs with her offspring. 

Slade beckons Jason off her back and Jason climbs off smoothly. Slade drops to the ground behind him and unexpectedly turns away from the fledglings. 

“Her mate isn’t here. We should wait for her to come back before we introduce you,” Slade explains and climbs higher up the rocks to what looks like a cliff. 

“Where are we going?”, Jason asks, following him. 

“Up there. We can see the valley from the top.”

Jason doesn’t have to ask further. He feels the thrilling might of so many dragons nearby, he’s sure he could sit and watch dragons for hours from any viewpoint around here. 

Jason joins Slade on the ledge he made himself comfortable on. 

The valley that unfolds and disappears between the mountains before them is breathtaking. Lush green stretches of land cover the foot of the mountain range and black rivers of stone lick into them. These are mountains that spit fire. Sometimes, Jason knows, streams of red, molten stone flow down their slopes. Jason’s never seen firemountains before, but, as fascinating as they are, his gaze is elsewhere. They pale in comparison to the dragons. 

Dragons in various colors and sizes, most smaller than Myra and none of the darker ones quite as black as her, are spread throughout the valley. They laze on the ground, come and go, or circle in the sky. This place is hidden in the mountain range and there are no traces of humans anywhere. Even though the Kane castle must be right at the foot of the outer part of the mountain range. 

“It looks like not even your House comes here.”

“They don’t”, Slade huffs. “It’s not wise to approach wild dragons with anything but proper intentions.”

“So, when you came here alone…?”

“Terrible idea,” Slade jests. “And only possible because I had no parents or anyone else watching over me. The perk of being a bastard is that your sight is not a welcome one and no one goes out of their way to look for you.” 

Jason listens for any kind of regret or pain in Slade’s voice, but he’s simply making an observation. If he ever held any kind of resentment towards his birthright, it’s long gone. 

“You would’ve found a way to leave regardless of that,” Jason smiles. 

“Because you did?”

“Yes,” he says, fondly remembering sneaking out of the castle with Ny at his side when his wolf was still a cub. “And because I can’t imagine a world in which you don’t find Myra.”

“You would’ve found your way here, too,” Slade says. 

“Without you taking me?” 

Slade nods. “I just wanted to be here when it happened.” 

“What do you mean? When Myra sees her mate?” 

“No, when you meet her mate,” Slade clarifies, leaving Jason with more questions than he had before. 

“There she is,” Slade says in the same moment Jason feels his world shift. 

His eyes snap up and his gaze locks onto a red dragon flying towards them. She’s smaller than Myra but relative to their sizes longer than her mate, she seems to dart through the sky, propelled by quick wings and nimble movements, rather than heave and glide over the clouds with majestic calm. 

Jason doesn’t notice Slade watching his reaction but he hears him. Barely. “Her name is Bela.” 

His heart is drumming in his throat, in his ears, through his ribs. Everything fades but her. 

The red dragon, Bela, meets his eyes and roars. In triumph and delight, and an unmatched feeling rings true from his heart to his finger tips and in every corner of his being. Mine, it echoes. He can’t tell whether it comes from her or somewhere deep in his soul. 

Both, he realizes. 

Jason doesn’t know when he got on his feet. He notices he did when Slade places his hands on his waist to hold him where he stands, lest he takes one step too many forward and tumbles off the cliff. 

It’s unnecessary, Jason knows, Bela would be there to catch him. 

She’s so close now. She only slows down when she’s near the cliff and almost lands on the rocks beside them with a heavy, enthusiastic thud. Jason hears her purr and it rocks his world. 

She growls over his shoulder at Slade and Slade drops his hands to let Jason go to her. She cranes her long neck down to meet him at eye level and Jason holds his breath. He doesn’t know what he’s anticipating until his hand finds her snout and warmth explodes through them. A bright red bond forms and centers his world anew, with her at the middle of it. 

“Bela,” he whispers, studying her sharp features and the fascinating reds of her scales. 

She purrs again and he places both his hands on the scales of her snout and his forehead between them. Jason closes his eyes to let her warmth flow through him. 

He understands her intent and looks back at Slade. 

He’s watching them with that strange, specific fondness and knowledge, Jason’s only caught glimpses of so far. Now it’s tenfold and openly conveyed in his expression. 

Slade nods, knowing exactly what is transpiring between them. “Fly,” he says. 

Jason turns to Bela who’s waiting for exactly that. 

He doesn’t waste a second to consider the lack of a saddle. He knows he won’t need one here. Jason steps around her, letting his hand run over her scales, until he stands next to her shoulders. 

“May I?”, he murmurs. 

Bela purrs and he climbs up on her neck like he’s done it a hundred times before. He settles between the spikes running along her spine and settles his feet against the smaller ones covering her back. 

He caresses the scales on her back and then holds onto the thorn in front of him. It’s the size of his underarm. She stretches and raises into the air with quick wingbeats, but doesn’t go high. Jason understands and throws a glance down the side of the cliff and laughs before Bela dives off of it in one smooth motion. Jason presses himself close to her back and grins into the winds they’re cutting through. 

Before they hit the ground of the valley, Bela pulls up and circles toward the sky. Jason sees Slade and Myra watching them when they pass the cliff and straightens up to laugh into the sky. 

Finally. Finally, he feels free. Completely and truly free. Whatever divine taste Slade and Myra could provide of this specific piece of freedom, now it’s his own. His and Bela’s. His and his dragon’s. 

The higher Bela flies, the lighter he feels. The more their bond takes shape, the more warmth he feels in his own core. A flame lit by his dragon that embraces him wholly. 

Bela stops circling and a feeling of amusement in their bond is all the warning he gets before she starts tumbling through the air. At first, he holds on. Testing his own strength until he wants to match her mischief and simply lets go when she’s flying upside down again. 

He falls and spins through the air. Bela catches him in her claws and cranes her head down, rumbling in confusion. Jason chuckles and tries to consciously use their bond to convey his intent. Apparently, he has to practice. 

Jason knows it finally worked when she opens her claws and lets him fall again. He spins a couple more times in delight before stretching out and steadying himself in the air. In no time, Bela is under him and he catches the thorn on her spine to pull himself into his spot between her shoulders. 

He laughs and lets Bela do her own thing again, reveling in her joy. 

Myra roars, catching their attention, and Bela rumbles in response and descends towards her and their fledglings. 

When they land next to Myra, Jason feels the bond he shares with Bela faintly echo around her family and back at him. He sees them in a whole new light, they’re his dragon’s mate and fledglings. Finally, he understands why, from the beginning, he was drawn to Myra so much more than to the other dragons. Finally, he feels like he truly belongs. 

Finally, he understands Slade and his dragon. 

His eyes find Slade and he sees even him in a new light. He knew how much his dragon means to him, but now he can relate. 

Jason slides off Bela, landing on steady knees because her mate got him used to flying. Not quite like that, Bela is definitely younger and wilder than gigantic Myra. But Bela and Jason are one and they didn’t exhaust themselves, too eager to share their bond with their partners. 

Jason watches Bela nuzzle Myra’s neck and rub their heads together fondly and warmth swells in his chest until he redirects his attention towards Slade again. 

Slade’s eyes are filled with satisfaction and warmth unlike Jason’s ever seen from him or thought possible. Jason grins and walks right into his arms, not stopping until he’s pressing into his front and devouring him with a kiss. 

“What?”, he breaks loose, eyeing Slade’s smug expression with suspicion. “You look like you got proven right on an assumption you’ve had for decades.”

“I suppose that’s exactly what happened.”

Jason looks between him and Bela, who has turned to her babies while Myra affectionately licks her red scales. “You knew?”

“I had a hunch. Myra always treated you differently. Since you were a kid,” Slade recalls, locking his arms around Jason who leans into him and hangs onto every word. “I think she recognized her soulmate in you.”

“What?”, Jason chokes out quietly, forgetting to breathe. 

Slade presses his hands onto the small of his back in support. 

“Us riders have access to their bonds, to their thoughts and emotions and wants. But we’re only scratching the surface. They’re the ones with magic, not us.” 

“But you think…?”

“Now that you’ve bonded, I know,” Slade mutters into his neck. 

“Fuck, Slade, is this real?”, Jason laughs. 

“Should I have prepared you?”, Slade chuckles. “I didn’t know if it was possible, so I wanted to offer you the opportunity without giving you false hope. I’m sorry, I doubted you. I wouldn’t have if you were a Kane or an El, the signs were all there. Actually, you are much more deserving than most of these cunts.”

“But you’re right,” Jason whips his head around to look at Slade again. “I can’t be a dragonrider. I’m neither from House Kane nor from House El.” 

Slade smiles, brushing his wind-whipped hair behind Jason’s ear. 

“And yet, you are,” he says softly. “And dragons don’t make mistakes. They’re gods, remember?” 

Chapter Text

Jason and Slade spend the night with their dragons. They’re entangled next to the young ones, piling onto each other, and lying between Myra and Bela. The beasts purr and guard their family all throughout the night. 

Jason sleeps like a lamb and, when he wakes up, he feels whole. 

It’s past dawn, but the sun is taking its time climbing the horizon behind the mountains. Their shadows are chilly and he nuzzles further into Slade’s warmth. Slade is already awake, but he has an arm slung around Jason and lazily watches the sky, giving Jason time to study him instead. 

His breathing is as calm as ever, his icy blue eye follows the dragons above them with his usual sharpness and his muscles are relaxed and soft. Slade looks peaceful. 

And Jason finds himself echoing the sentiment. 

He doesn’t look put together either. Sure, Jason can appreciate how dashing Slade looked at the banquet. It quite literally took his breath away. But there’s something comforting about rumpled, comfortable clothes and a couple small twigs and leaves entangled in the white strands of his hair. He reaches out of his pelt and picks them off one by one. 

Slade closes his eye and tilts his head towards Jason for better access. 

“As much as I want to, we can’t stay here for long,” Slade sighs. “Not right now.”

Jason nods. “Not if we want to resolve this quickly and without serious threat to the King’s family, I know.” 

“The League is a day’s flight north from here.” 

“We’re going after the demon’s head.”

“Yes.”

Jason pauses. “Will she forgive me?”

“She already has,” Slade says, something akin to reassurance in his grumble. 

Jason steels his resolve. “In any case, I’d rather have us do it than let her live with it.”

“I can go by myself,” Slade offers. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Jason scoots up to lean half over Slade and press his palm on Slade’s chest. 

“No.” The growl comes from somewhere so deep down that it feels like he reaches deeper than he himself goes. Bela raises her head with a purr and Jason realizes that part of his consciousness is new and not his own, despite how familiar it feels. 

Slade acknowledges his dragon with one simple look and squeezes Jason’s hand. Bela isn’t threatening Slade, she’s simply expressing her discontent with him. Jason imagines that if it was anyone but Slade in this situation it would look and feel entirely different. Anyone else would be putting the connection between their own head and torso in danger. 

Slade just calmly looks at him. 

“Neither of us leaves,” he agrees, a grin threatening to betray his satisfaction at Jason’s fierceness. 

Warmth fills Jason’s chest and with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips he leans into Slade for a long, deep kiss. He revels in the new bonds growing stronger and the presence of their dragon’s affection in the back of his mind. 

“Tonight, we’ll fly to take the take the head of the demon,” Slade declares. 

“How?”, Jason asks. “You know his fortress. How do we get to him before he flees?”

“Ah, your father told you about that particular tendency of Ra’s,” Slade scoffs amused. “By now, he’ll be in the caves, weaving things into his advantage, towards his goal. Ra’s can’t escape when Myra and Bela keep watch outside.”

“I know the young ones aren’t babes anymore, but are they old enough to fend for themselves?”

“Absolutely,” Slade’s says at the same time as Jason is nudged by four small dragon heads. Well, small in comparison to Myra’s. They huff their indignation at him and when Jason turns around to pacify them, they’re holding their heads high and stand with puffed out chests. 

Jason laughs and curls even further into Slade’s hold. 

As much as Jason loves being near Slade and exploring the freedom to touch and kiss whenever they want here, between realms, they don’t stay on the ground for much longer. 

Slade insists that Jason learns to communicate with Bela on instinct in the one day they have and Jason is more than happy to throw everything he has towards achieving this. It involves a lot of flying, a lot of falling and getting caught again and the slow building of faith in all of this. Nothing could pry him from his dragon from the moment he laid eyes on her, but that it involves her mate, her whelps and his man just as much is a realization he gets to marvel at until he’s fully understood it. 

When the sun sets, Bela sets down next to Myra and Jason slides off her shoulder to wander over to Slade who’s already waiting for him. 

“This is going to be my life now, isn’t it?”, he asks after he settled next to Slade. 

“Yes,” says Slade, his eye wandering from their dragons to Jason. 

“I don’t even need to continue contemplating what I would do once my family heads back north.” And he doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

“Yes,” Slade says again. “You’re like me. There was no other way forward for me either.”

Jason sucks in a sharp breath. “Was it easy?”, he asks after a moment.

“Of course,” Slade nods once. “But I never had any other place in the world.”

“I-“, Jason hesitates. 

“You’ll always have a place in Winterfell,” Slade says, so sure of what he’s saying, it sets Jason at ease. “But you found what you were missing, no?” 

“Yes,” Jason says. 

“So is this freedom worth the cost?” 

Jason takes in Slade’s guarded expression and frowns. “Yes. Yes, it is, but you’re wrong. She’s not the only one offering me freedom. I’d already mostly made my decision before we got to Harrenhal.” Slade’s eye widens in surprise and Jason needs to be closer to him immediately. He reseats himself on Slade’s thighs and grabs his face between his hands. “It was a harder choice, yes, but I already chose you before I knew about her,” Jason admits. 

“I know how much you love your family,” Slade says, his voice rougher than usual. 

“I do,” Jason whispers wholeheartedly. “And, by the gods, Slade, I love the north. We can’t wait years between visits.”

“Wherever you want to go, love,” Slade murmurs against his neck. Then he halts. “Are you upset I didn’t come sooner?” 

“No,” Jason says truthfully, he’s glad he got to grow up fully with his family. His first family. But… “If Myra liked me so much why didn’t you come more often?”

“You’re father would’ve had my head,” Slade shakes it. “And he would’ve gotten Kal to get it in case he failed.”

“Well, now he’s gonna want your head regardless,” Jason shrugs. 

“Don’t worry, love. I’m far to interested in the present and future to let them take those away from me,” Slade says, his eye staring right into Jason’s soul. “Let alone anyone else.” 

When they take off to fly through the night, Jason joins Slade on Myra because she has the comfortable saddle and someone who can watch over him while he sleeps. Every moment he doesn’t, he watches Bela and her fledglings fly beside them. 

Slade doesn’t say much on their journey, letting Jason practice communicating with his dragon and settle into this newfound peace. Instead, Slade can’t keep his hands off of him ever. He has at least one hand resting on Jason’s thigh at all times and often covers the hands Jason has wrapped around him with his own. 

Jason suspects that all of this feels just as exhilarating to Slade as it does to Jason. The difference lies in their experience. Jason’s been in enough heart-thundering situations to lose count, but Slade’s been in enough to get used to them, to keep a clear head no matter what happens. 

He wonders how excited he must’ve been when he met Myra for the first time, and when he sleeps, he dreams about it. Slade, still a boy, grinning at his dragon with pure joy. When Jason wakes, his heart aches. He knows he saw memories. 

It must’ve been Myra’s, but of course Slade knows something. He lifts Jason’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. 

Long before dawn threatens to reveal their coming in the sky, they reach Ra’s castle. 

Myra keeps her flying steady and Slade and Jason jump off her back to be caught by the two biggest fledglings. They keep to the air for now while Myra folds her wings and darts toward the castle like death spearing through the night. 

The first burst of flames hits the high wall and Bela hides in the fire like Myra hides in the dark and appears out of seemingly nowhere to cause chaos. 

Jason and Slade, with the help of the young ones, fly towards the caves that run through the mountain the castle is imbedded into. Slade says Ra’s will try and flee through the caves so that’s where they’ll smoke him out. The fledglings are just barely small enough to be able to still run around in there. 

As soon as Slade and Jason get solid ground beneath their feet, the young dragons split up and enter the caves. 

Jason looks at Slade. 

Together, Slade’s fire-illuminated stare says. 

Jason nods and follows him into the caves. 

Unlike the Dragon’s Pit, these caves are lit by torches on the walls. Still, he keeps his senses sharp on Slade in front of him. He wants to react to the slightest change in his demeanor immediately. 

When it comes, he’s ready. They’re in a damp, sparsely lit section of the caves. The smell of smoke and fire have not reached it yet. The dragons aren’t nearby. 

Jason sees Ra’s standing next to a underground pool of some kind and can’t quite hide a smirk. Slade was right. 

No matter what, don’t fall in, Slade said last night with heaviness in his voice Jason knows not to take lightly. 

A shiver runs down Jason’s spine at the draw the green-shimmering water seems to exude. Slade steps towards the pool and leaves circling farther away from the water and behind Ra’s to Jason. 

The demon turns and sneers at Slade. 

“I’ve let you live for far too long,” he spits. 

“How very kind of you,” Slade jests. “As it turns out the gods still had quite a lot in store for me.”

“I decide when the gods are done with a man.”

“Your gods of death and destiny are nothing but shadows,” Slade shrugs. “Mine are dragons.”

“So I see. Did you really think a few young dragons were enough to get rid of me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“And you’re not alone. I expected better from you. What’s a boy doing here? A boy who doesn’t even share your gods.”

“I do,” Jason says icily. 

“Please,” Ra’s laughs at him. “You don’t even know what we’re talking about. This old knight isn’t worth getting scarred for, let alone dying for. Flee, while you can boy. Flee, now.” 

“You could’ve simply asked for my name if it bothers you so much to not know it. I look familiar, don’t I?”, Jason grins. “Jason, son of Lord Bruce Wayne.”

Ra’s narrows his snake-like eyes at him. “He would never let a son come near me. He would never let a son near you.” He looks accusingly at Slade. 

“No,” Slade simply admits. “He would not.” 

Now, that his secrets are out in the open, Jason shifts into a stance Ra’s will undoubtedly recognize. It’s become one of his favorites. 

“Talia,” Ra’s frowns. “That stupid child.”

“Now, now, don’t give your daughter all the credit.” 

Ra’s head swivels back to look at Slade, genuinely surprised for a moment, and Jason leaps at him, sword drawn and swinging for his neck. 

Of course, it isn’t that simple. Ra’s had a dagger in his hand with which he can divert the trajectory of Jason’s sword, and then he has a sword of his own in his other hand in a heartbeat. 

Guards come storming in and Jason lets Slade fight Ra’s while he methodically puts the guards down one after another, just like how he kept practicing with Slade. He goes through most of them unnervingly smooth. Those worst cases Slade kept training him harder and harder for don’t come to pass. Only a few of them can keep up with Jason for a bit and those are the ones that make him realize that this fight would’ve gone a lot differently before he started training with Slade. All of a sudden, it hits him how much he’s grown and changed over those months. 

“Admire your handiwork later, Jason,” Slade laughs at him, but his voice sounds too far away for comfort. 

Jason turns and leaves the empty tunnel behind himself to join Slade’s fight. Slade’s in a good rhythm and Jason provides the necessary distractions to make the outcome of the fight clear. 

The moment Ra’s, too, realizes this is the moment Slade’s sword pierces through his heart. Slade pulls his sword out of Ra’s torso without much fanfare and Ra’s sinks to the ground, a shocked expression revealing the shimmering green in his eyes. 

“Or admire my handiwork instead,” Slade drawls into his ear. 

“Gods,” Jason sighs. “I hope you never run out of stuff to teach me.”

“Really? I’m looking forward to discovering and learning new things together with you.”

Chapter Text

On the second morning after Ra’s death, Jason and Slade arrive at King’s Landing on Myra’s back. Bela and her fledglings are close but stay out of sight, hidden between hills. 

“Growing dragons don’t belong in caves,” Slade had said and Jason and Bela had agreed without hesitation. He would rather keep her a secret until what they had to do was done. 

Jason, by now just as comfortable around Myra as Slade is, places his forehead against her snout and promises to come back soon while Slade strokes across her scales reassuringly. 

Their dragons did not like letting them go to the castle by themselves where danger might lurk in places they cannot access by simply knocking down a wall. 

Myra watches as they get horses from the stable and make their way away from the dragonpit and into the city. There is no stealthy return when a dragon as big as her is involved. They might as well ride back to the castle out in the open.

Something has changed. Jason feels it and knows that Slade does, too. The bond between them is almost as far developed as their bonds to their dragons are. The eyes of some of King’s Landings spies are even sharper, searching for a hidden reason for their short absence. But no one can know what they did. Dragons are the fastest creatures in this realm, no raven, no horse, no news could’ve traveled faster than they did. 

Even as they enter the Red Keep those eyes are still on them. As well as three new dissecting pairs of eyes.

Jason finds Bruce and Talia waiting for them and between them Damian. Bruce is scrutinising Jason’s and Slade’s state and whatever he sees between them, Talia is carefully looking them over, checking for signs of how their undertaking went, and Damian seems to be bursting with question, despite the calm look on his face. Jason sighs and looks over to Slade, who only returns his look with a slight smirk. 

“Son,” Bruce greets him and takes his horse’s reins when Jason gets out of the saddle. “Everything went well?” 

“Yes,” Jason nods, but looks at Talia as he says it. He’s not apologetic, not really, but he feels for her. 

“Oh, Jason,” she sighs and steps forward to him to envelop him in a strong hug she doesn’t let go of for a long time. Jason puts his arms around her back and squeezes tight. “You found it,” she whispers into his hair. “Whatever you were searching for, whatever you were missing, you found it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispers back. Tears of happiness and relief threaten to spill over his cheeks. “Yes, I found it.”

“Mother told me,” Damian suddenly says and Jason looks at him over Thalia’s shoulder. “Is it done?”, he asks outright.

Jason nods, coming back into reality. Damian gives him a single nod in return and turns around to leave. A little stiffly but no doubt on his way to find Jon, which Jason is grateful for. 

Slade clears his throat in the same moment as Jason lets go of Talia. Bruce gives them a look but Talia smiles and puts a hand against Jason’s shoulder blade to guide him into the castle.

“Leave the horses,” she orders, and sounds like her normal self. There’s no trace of a loss of her father in her voice. “Your visit encouraged me to come visit my son. Let’s spend some time with the family. That’s what I’m here for after all. Took you long enough to catch up with me.” Her laughter sounds across the courtyard. 

On the way up to their usual breakfast terrace, Talia keeps chatting with Jason, her arm linked in his. When they get there, Damian is already waiting with Jon and they brought the King and Queen as well. The door closes behind them and Talia stops chattering. 

“So the demon’s head is no more,” she sighs. Damian comes up to her and hugs her.

“It has to be this way, Mother,” he says. Talia runs a hand through his hair and Damian doesn’t even scoff at her. 

“I know,” she smiles. 

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” Kal says with a hand laid across his heart.

“Thank you,” Talia says, surprise evident. She’s only vaguely familiar with the King’s family, Jason remembers. 

“Did you do it?”, Bruce suddenly asks him. 

Jason frowns at him, but answers honestly. “No.”

“I did,” Slade says at the same time. 

That earns them another look from Bruce. 

Talia looks somewhat relieved, but seemingly doesn’t want to linger on this topic. 

“I have identified the threat here in King’s Landing, as well. When the news of my Father’s death reaches the city, the League might make one last attempt under the remaining leadership here. That would be Lord Cain.” 

“What about his daughter?”, Jason immediately has to know. He remembers her together with the blonde girl training in the yard and dancing at the ball.

“The girl is my ward,” Talia says and regards Bruce and Kal with steel in her eyes. “Cassandra Cain and Stephanie have no part in this and are under my protection. Effective immediately.” 

“I figured as much,” Bruce says and with his approval, Kal nods his agreement. 

“I will pull the League out of the city and back to Harrenhal where I will evaluate their loyalties and skills anew,” Talia adds. 

“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Kal inclines his head towards her. 

“No need, this mess was caused by my family. We cost you a Hand, for that I am sorry.” 

“Well, maybe you would consider taking the place of my current hand, so that he might return home soon,” Kal smiles at her. 

Talia, daughter of the demon and of the shadows, gapes at him. 

“It was not my idea,” Kal says, looking warmly at Bruce. “But what convinced me were your sons, if I may be so honest,” Kal continues and looks at Jason and Damian with the same warmth. 

Slade looks at Jason oddly, probably having felt some off the pleasant tingle that ran through Jason’s body at the King’s look of love and respect and kindness. 

“There is something else to tell,” Jason says suddenly, surprising himself. He had wanted to keep it to himself for as long as he could.

“You don’t have to,” Slade reassures him, standing by his side and putting a hand on his arm. 

Jason shakes his head and looks at Slade. “The King deserves to know. I’m an outlier, he doesn’t deserve to be caught off guard by this.” 

“He already knows what you want to tell,” Kal says, smiling. “But I would appreciate an attempt at an explanation.” 

“You do?” Jason is surprised but also unsure if the King is referring to his dragon or his relationship, when Jason is only willing to discuss the former amongst so many people. 

“You smell of dragon,” Slade supplies. “And not just mine.”

Bruce perks up at this.

“You took my son to the dragon valley?”, he accuses Slade. 

“I did,” Slade smirks.

“You took time to show off?” 

“It was worth the time,” Kal appeases, smiling at Jason. “What is the name of your dragon?”

“Bela,” Jason grins back at the King and is sure that he could almost match the brightness of Kal’s smile in this moment. 

Bruce pales a bit, while Talia stares at him in wonder and everyone else looks at him in disbelief. 

“You are a dragonrider now?”, Talia asks, cupping his cheek tenderly. “Is that what it is? Is that why you seem so… so content?”

“Partly, yes,” Jason replies softly, but doesn’t miss how Bruce has to take measured, deep breaths. 

“You can ride a dragon?!”, Jon shouts in disbelief while Damian crosses his arms. “You better teach me how.” 

“I don’t know how or why,” Jason chuckles at the boys. “I’m not born in the right House.”

“I have my suspicions,” Kal smiles and his eyes flicker to Slade for a moment. “But regardless, someone in my House must’ve been the first one to ride a dragon as well. Who says new Houses can’t join our ranks?”

“That is so awesome,” Jon whispers from besides Damian. 

“Jason…”, Bruce starts but doesn’t continue. 

The Queen gets up from the bench. “Let’s go, boys.” She gestures to the two kids and hurries them out of the room. Talia follows her son.

As soon as the door closes, Bruce steps forward and engulfs Jason in a hug. “Jason…”, he repeats and Jason is shocked at the sadness in his tone. 

“Father?”, he asks carefully, even though his stomach clenches in worry. 

“I always feared you’d be the first to leave my side, my protection, Winterfell, us, me. But I thought I had more time before you tried finding your own way.” 

“I-“, Jason chocked up. Suddenly missing his home and Richard and Tim. “I’ll visit. Often. You know how much Winterfell means to me.” 

“Yes,” Bruce breathes out. “Yes, I know. But this has happened once before. And the last time it happened, my friend was tasked to bear the weight of the realm and before we knew it, we only saw each other once every summer.”

“I’m no king,” Jason laughs. “It will be Slade and me. And we’ll decide where the winds take us.”

Bruce went rigid. “Slade and you.” 

“Yes,” says Jason at the same time as Slade.

“Your dragons are soulmates, I assume,” Kal wonders aloud.

“They are,” Slade confirms, watching Bruce carefully. 

“You knew,” Kal simply states. Probably to level the playing field for Bruce, who goes even more rigid as he pushes out of Jason’s arms. 

“Did you?”, Bruce growls at Slade. “Is that why you took my son there? Because you knew he would bond with a dragon and that your dragons would never let themselves be parted for long? To get him to stay for whatever fucked up thing you have in mind?”

Slade’s usual relaxed posture is gone, his back is straight and his shoulders squared, with this he can look slightly down at Bruce. “I took him there because Jason deserves the kind of freedom only a dragon could give him,” Slade growls back. “It is inhuman to keep a dragon and their rider apart.”

Kal puts a calming hand on Bruce shoulder. “He says what he believes is true.”

“Of course, I do,” Slade sneers. “I don’t need lies and deceit here. Jason belongs with Bela.”

“Father,” Jason says, with conviction. “I am happy.” 

“You are?”, Bruce looks at him with something like hopeful wonder in his eyes. 

“Yes,” he nods. “By the gods, I’m a dragonrider. I can go where I want, whenever I want. There’s nothing that binds me down anywhere. Not even Myra, she would let Bela do whatever she wants.”  

“Can you be sure? You have not tried this, have you?”, Bruce frowns, a hand laying heavy on Jason’s shoulder. 

“I’m sure,” Jason says, gripping Bruce’s arm. “They may not let me go alone, but they will not stop me from going where I want to go and doing what I want to do.”

“Maybe your newfound freedom should be my biggest concern,” Bruce sighs, a crooked smile an his face. 

“I haven’t forgotten that I’m not invulnerable,” Jason reassures. “But there are two protective dragons watching over me and a dragonrider who is watching my back at all times.” 

Bruce grumbles in Slade’s direction but focuses on Jason again soon. His eyes seem to be looking for something in Jason’s own gaze and when Bruce finds it, he pulls him close and hugs him tight. 

“Be careful, tonight,” Bruce murmurs. Then he looks at Slade and speaks to him without raising his voice. “You, too. If you’ve decided to take my son, then at least make yourself useful and keep him safe.”

Slade tilts his head, seems to consider something, and then nods, just once. His expression seems neutral and unfazed at first glance, but Jason can feel the sincerity in him. Jason’s bond with Bela is strong, only slightly weakened by the distance, and through her bond with Myra he gets an impression of what Slade is feeling at all times. 

“Let us discuss how we will deal with Lord Cain,” Kal says, after Bruce lets go of Jason and takes a step back. 

“Talia will want to do it,” Bruce answers, detaching his gaze from Jason with a deep breath, and begins going through plans in his head. 

“Then let us go find her. If we disappear behind closed doors with her all day, Lord Cain might suspect something. For now, she’s just visiting her son… or maybe I should say, sons.” Kal smiles at Jason and walks past Bruce towards the door. Jason doesn’t miss the light touch of Kal’s hand on Bruce’s arm. Bruce gathers himself, almost unnoticeably, and follows Kal to the door.

He turns around once more before he leaves. “How long will you stay?”

“As long as you remain here in King’s Landing and then I will join you on your way back home,” Jason smiles. “After that, I want to see the world.”

“It is worth seeing,” Kal says warmly.

“I would love to argue with that,” Bruce grumbles, but follows Kal outside without doing so. 

The door closes and Jason turns to face Slade, relief relaxing his posture significantly. 

“That went far better than expected,” Jason says. 

“It sure did.” Slade comes over and wraps his arms around Jason. “You really want to stay? It might take months for Bruce Wayne to be satisfied enough with the situation here to travel back home.”

“I’ll stay for as long as it takes. I’ll apologize properly later if there’s somewhere you wanted to take me immediately,” Jason grins. 

“Oh, I can think of multiple things,” Slade grins back and leans in to kiss Jason deeply. Jason is so consumed by the kiss, by the moment, by Slade that he doesn’t immediately react when the door opens. 

“Are you still here, Fa-?” Jason’s head whips around to the half-opened door. “Kane!”, Damian growls. He looks outraged as he stomps over to them and tries to push Slade off Jason. “Your lessons for me were a farce to seduce my brother! I should have known better.”

Jason’s first instinct is to laugh, but Slade doesn’t deny it. He raises an eyebrow at him.

“I usually know what I want fairly early,” Slade shrugs, ignoring Damian trying to get between them while he’s still holding Jason. Jason is distracted by his words and tries to figure out what Slade saw in him, when he was still mostly staring at dragons, until Damian redirects his efforts into pulling Jason away, instead of pushing Slade who proves to be immovable. 

“Dami,” Jason scolds, but ruffles his little brother’s hair in the same breath. “Dami, that’s enough. I’m where I want to be.” 

“Surely, that is a jest, brother,” Damian huffs. “Do you even know how old some of the stories Kane has firsthand knowledge of are?”

“I can imagine,” Jason chuckles and Damian lets go of the effort to separate them and crosses his arms in disapproval instead. 

“I will outlive you, boy,” Slade says grimly. 

For one moment, Jason is glad and hopes it will be so. Then, guilt follows.

They both see it. Damian is surprised and seems to understand the extent of Jason’s feeling for the first time. Slade just smiles at him with sadness and grief hidden deep in his eyes. 

“I see,” Damian says and resigns himself to this new reality. “Do you know where Father has gone?”

“To find Talia and discuss what they will do now,” Jason informs him. 

“I will go find him.” Damian turns to leave, but not before he levels another glare at Slade. “And I will be watching you.” 

Slade isn’t fazed by it in the slightest and Jason doesn’t want or need him to be, but he appreciates Damian all the more for saying it. 

He says as much, when he finally strips out of his riding clothes once they’re alone in his room. 

“He can keep doing it,” Slade smiles. “I, too, am glad that your family cares about you so much.” 

Jason reaches for Slade’s hand and squeezes it once. “Good. Because you’ll have to put up with them often.” 

Slade raises their hands and kisses the back of Jason’s hand. “How would you feel about a spar in the courtyard?”

“What are we waiting for?”, Jason grins and drags Slade out of the room where he lets their hands fall apart. As much as he’s looking forward to this, they’re not free to do whatever they want, wherever they want, and this is just as much about keeping an eye on the situation in the castle as it is about training and themselves. 

They rile each other up as much as they possibly can with their swords and knives and moves and countermoves and words without falling to the ground in a tight embrace in the middle of the courtyard. When the time for dinner comes, they’re eat quickly, only taking a longer moment to receive news from Talia. Lord Cain has passed. From a weak heart, she tells them. 

This expected turn of events doesn’t dampen Jason’s fire in the slightest. Slade separates from him in the corridors, for propriety’s sake, but slides through the secret door a moment after Jason closes the door to his own quarters. 

They cross the distance between them in large strides and let their bodies clash into each other. Jason’s mouth is on Slade’s before he fully has his arms around him. His fingers slide into the soft white hair at Slade’s nape and in turn Slade’s fingers sent shiver down his side where he’s touching Jason. 

“We should- pretend to sleep- soon-,” Slade says against his mouth. “Tonight will see many assassination attempts.” 

“On me?”, Jason gasps breathlessly against him and buries his head into Slade’s neck to let him speak while he busies himself with kissing down his throat. 

“Yes. Cain is dead. The news of Ra’s death will have reached the city. There is a power vacuum and Talia will wait and let those who foolishly try to fill it, let them try and break from it. Mhhh, Jason.” His voice drops as Jason sneaks his fingers under Slade’s clothes. 

“And once they’ve failed, she’ll step up,” Jason finishes his thought. 

Slade plants a kiss on his temple. “Yes.”

“And my death will send my father home, to bury me under snow where I belong,” Jason says and holds onto Slade a little tighter. 

Slade growls and does the same. 

Jason lets his hands wander again. “Well, let us do this quickly then. Then we’ll be bait for the night.”

“I’ll reward you properly after that,” Slade grins and kisses Jason again. 

Jason falls into bed gladly and pulls Slade down after him. With all the tension that’s been building up over the day, Jason wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. And Slade is right there with him. 

Unlike their usual routine, they get back up and get dressed again, in just a single layer of clothes, just to fight comfortably in, and they take long knives and daggers to bed with them. Their swords are too big to be handy in these rooms.

They lie close together, watching and touching each other longingly as they wait. Jason knows Slade will hear them first, but he remains as vigilant as ever. 

It’s the darkest hour of the night when Slade finally gives him the sign. 

Slade frowns. “There are more than expected. I think they’re all coming at once,” he whispers. 

A moment later assassins are bursting through the door and Jason’s lets the first couple daggers fly towards them. 

“Go check on Dami!”, Jason shouts when he sees only five people entering his room but far more assassins rushing past, further down the corridor where his brother and father are probably not sleeping. 

“Be careful,” Slade says, and stabs the assassin in the throat who makes the mistake of coming within Slade’s reach as he runs out of the room. 

Jason’s not worried about four opponents, not even if they’re League assassins, not after all at he’s learned from Slade. Two of them finally go down with daggers in their throats as Jason draws his long blades, but suddenly there are more assassins streaming in his room. Enough that things might get complicated. 

He works up a good sweat, defending against all the slashes, stabs and thrown weapons that try to take his life. Slowly he kills or chases away one assassin after the other. Only the most stubborn ones that hardest to kill remain when one of their knives nicks Jason’s chest. Jason hears an animalistic growl that sends chills across his skin and watches the assassin’s head fall off his shoulders, revealing Slade behind him. 

Slade grabs the headless man and throws him past himself out of the door. The two assassins who are left standing have no chance and end up dead in the corridor as well, while Jason just watches until the door is closed.

“Is it done?”, he has the sense to ask, without really understanding why in the heat of the moment. He just remembers it’s important for some reason. 

“Yes,” Slade says, looking at him in a particular way. With hunger and protectiveness.

Jason rushes towards him, he has to be careful to step over corpses at his speed and jumps into Slade’s arms who catches him but stumbles against the door with Jason’s weight barrelling into him. That won’t do because Jason needs to get his legs and arms around the man immediately. He wriggles against Slade and Jason is sure he would chuckle at Jason’s desperate need if he didn’t feel exactly the same thing. 

They’re almost at the bed when Jason sets his feet down and pushes Slade over into the bedding first. Now, he can climb on top of him and devour him completely. 

Slade is proven correct in his theory when they remain undisturbed for the rest of the night. In the morning, the corpses in the corridor are already gone and, after a long breakfast, Jason returns to a clean room free of bodies. 

Talia enlists Slade’s and Jason’s help in taking over the League. They won’t remain involved, but they have experience and it’s a good way to spend time for a while. And Jason is glad for the opportunity of getting to know Cassandra and Stephanie.

As Jason promised, Slade and he stay until his father and the King are satisfied with the newfound stability in King’s Landing. Kal can’t convince Bruce to stay longer and just enjoy a few days free of duties and the day comes when Bruce and Damian begin the journey home. 

Jason can’t bring himself to feel sad, despite the heavy mood of good friends separating for long and unknown periods of time. His new loves will go wherever he goes, as he will go wherever they go, and he’ll see home again after a long time. Then he will begin, with Slade at his side, his new life as a dragonrider. King’s Landing, Winterfell, his family, his freedom and his love are all within reach, closer than he ever thought possible.