Sangre

Although he hasn't told anyone about his Charge, he knows perfectly well who it is. From the moment he saw Astriel, he felt drawn to him, and yet he tried to deny it for weeks, even after he joined the clan. Astriel, after all, was a strong warrior, learned scholar, and trusted advisor for his clan, and he certainly didn't need some gangly Plague dragon galumphing after him as he went about his business. He tried to run away, and prayed that he could be given an easier charge, one that wouldn't resent his presence. However, not even the waters in the Sea of a Thousand Currents were enough to block the pull of his charge, and it didn't take long for the effort to take its toll. Being a dragon of the Scarred Wasteland, he hid his weakness until he almost passed out on a fishing expedition. When the Guardians in the clan he had been staying with realized what was happening, they threw him onto the shore, for his own good. Once more moving in the right direction, the headaches faded and he realized that ignoring his Charge was never going to be a viable solution.

Once he returned to the clan by the ocean, he skulked around the edges for a few days. Ultimately, it was Astriel who found him while patrolling the clan's borders, and the mistrust in his eyes cut Sangre in a part of his spirit he had never known existed before. In desperation, he babbled out that he wished to join the clan but hadn't known how to approach, biting down on the part of himself that wanted to blurt out that this dragon was his charge. Astriel's eyes softened, and Sangre winced- pitied, and by his own Charge! His birth clan would laugh to see the mess he was making of such a simple task, if they acknowledged him at all.

He should just tell them. It's not like they would make him leave, the clan had another Guardian and they treated her well enough, letting her get on with protecting her Charge so long as she kept her other duties as well. But... every time Astriel left to defend the clan or train the younger members, Sangre's guardian heart twisted a little more. He wanted, irrationally, to go with him on the battlefield, despite knowing that anything powerful enough to touch Astriel would be so far out of his league that he might as well not even be there- in fact, he may worsen a situation by forcing Astriel to protect him. These thoughts circled his head as he went on hunting trip after hunting trip, that being all he could help this clan with, continuing to speak to Astriel at any opportunity. He was ill-suited to the clan's social code, and his survival-oriented upbringing had taught him more about how to kindle a good fire from a book than how to read one, but he would make the best of this.

---

"Teach me to fight," he blurted out.
"What?" Astriel was bent over a mosaic of scrolls and books, but he looked up in surprise as Sangre burst into his study.
The guardian ducked his head, suddenly acutely aware that he had no idea what Astriel actually did with all these mysterious scribblings, or what kinds of interruptions he would find unbearable. "Um, well, that is to say- and you can say no- in fact maybe I'd better just come back later-" he started to turn to rush out. Sangre you idiot, you should just go ask that other guardian, and while you're at it you thank the Plague- no, Lightweaver now, you thank her that this clan isn't in the Wasteland because you'd be dead if you were this distra- and then Astriel was moving around the desk and Sangre froze, fighting the urge to flatten himself to the ground as he would've before one of the warriors in his old clan because he didn't want to bump any of Astriel's furniture.
The imperial stopped a safe distance back, giving Sangre his space, and said in his usual soft voice, "I think not. Something has obviously been on your mind lately, and you've clearly decided to get it off your chest. I'm here, I'm listening, so you may as well just tell me."
"Well, I, er, Iwasjustwonderingifyouwouldteachmetofight." The words poured out of him in a rush, sounding overloud in comparison to Astriel, and Sangre squeezed his eyes shut even as he shouted at himself not to show so much weakness.
"Yes"
"I..." that was easy "Thank you"
"Of course. Just let me put these away." The imperial glanced at the papers covering the desk as if he was just realizing how many there were.
"What, now?"
"Well, when were you thinking we would start?"

---

"Now, you've hunted before, have you not?"
Astriel was lounging casually against a boulder, having swatted away the Webwings that had been hovering around it, killing one particularly ambitious Alpha that had swooped toward his eyes. By the time Sangre had tensed, Astriel's talons had flicked out and back down, eliminating the threat. He had then waved the same talons at the field in invitation, and Sangre had walked out into it only to be faced with a pair of the biggest moths he had ever seen. "Of course I've hunted before, but not like this!"
"Okay, now, the first thing you'll need to do is remember to breathe. Every move you make, you're either breathing in or breathing out. Don't hold your breath, and make sure to feel which it is."
One of the moths landed a sting across Sangre's nose, as if to say "stop mooning after him and pay attention." He breathed in and swiped his claws at the moth, which fluttered aside so that his uncertain blow just grazed its abdomen. The other moth took advantage of his unbalanced follow-up to land a hit of its own, so he slashed at it as well, managing to get a bit more force behind the blow. It backed up, dazed, and he returned his attention to the first moth, which fell against his determination not to make any more of a fool of himself. When he returned his gaze to the second moth, now recovered from its daze, it stung at his wing before he struck out against it. Temporarily off-balance from the sting, he held his breath against the pain of the tear and struck out, but felt suddenly off balance, staggering into something that was definitely not an attack. His breath whooshed out of him in surprise, before suddenly his claws flashed in a slightly different way than before and the moth fell. He turned back to the rock where Astriel lay watching him.
"That was a very credible first attempt. Do you know what happened just before the end there?"
"I... I forgot to breathe..." He looked down. Who forgets to breathe?
"Yes. Breath is central to fighting. Some of us, like Masque and myself, and you, choose to breathe in with small attacks before unleashing a larger attack. Others, such as our clan's leaders, will spend some time focusing solely on their breathing before using that breath to unleash powerful magics, but it takes some time to refocus after doing so, and in the meantime a dragon will have less physical coordination. A few gain breath from being attacked, but truly that is an advanced technique and one I find ill-suited to learning to fight. However, if you decide that you're interested, I can find you something written by a warrior who used such a technique and we can find a safe way for you to practice it."
"By being attacked?"
Astriel smiled, "To each their own. I'll find you a reference. You may have the knack for it- I never did."
"I-"
"Yes?"
I can't read "I had no idea it was so complex?" Sangre cursed the way his voice lifted slightly at the end of the statement. Astriel, of course, caught his deflection immediately.
"I thought we had established this back at the clan. You may as well tell me."
Think fast, Sangre "I was just wondering, if maybe it would help if I saw how it is that you do it," Good, that was good, very good
Astriel kept looking at him for a few seconds, before nodding, "If you feel it will be helpful. But we will not be able to do that here," his eyes suddenly turned serious, "you will follow me and stay behind me, is that clear? I have no desire to bear your body to Solara and explain that I took you too deep into the Ruins and got you injured, or worse."
"I'll be careful," and he would. He hadn't realized they would be going elsewhere for his request. He wasn't sure he could take watching Astriel battling alone right in front of him. Well you'll just have to, won't you.

The Hewn City loomed ahead, but Astriel had said that they weren't going into the City proper. Astriel stalked along the edge of the looming stone edifices, with Sangre trailing a safe distance behind. Suddenly, Astriel leapt forward and flipped a large clay jar. Out tumbled a dark, smoky spirit and a bright wisp of green light. Astriel was in action almost immediately, appearing to focus briefly before landing a pair of pointed strikes on the darker of the two spirits. The green spirit stopped in place before appearing to grow brighter, but then the darker had recovered from its surprise and landed what looked to Sangre like a devastating blow. He let out a strangled growl, digging his claws into the earth, and he could swear that Astriel's gaze cut to him from where he was fighting, before another flurry of blows was exchanged and the dark spirit was dissipated. The green light then called up a flurry of wind, but Astriel barely seemed to notice as he seemed to twist his entire body into a move that ended with him facing the opposite direction he had been, across the makeshift battlefield. The bright phantom was nowhere to be seen. Astriel seemed to breathe out and relax, before turning and fixing Sangre with a piercing stare that seemed to see far more than it should. However, all he said was "We should not linger here."

---

As the Hewn City faded behind them, Astriel seemed to think for a moment before folding his wings to land on a large hill. Sangre hastened to follow, forcing himself to meet the imperial's gaze without blinking, though he did sink down slightly in an effort to appear nonthreatening- as if you could threaten him anyway whispered the part of his mind that had screamed when that thing had hit the imperial.
"Are you alright?" asked Sangre when the silence had gone on too long, stretching his head to try to get a better view of the thin scrape while Astriel shifted to show him.
"A few bruises are part of the job. Anything too bad, Gaelan or Solara are perfectly capable of healing. At any rate, that is not why we're stopping." Sangre shifted again, and Astriel sighed. "I realize I may not be the most sympathetic of dragons, but if there is a problem you're having with fighting I really do need to know about it.
"It's not that," Sangre blurted.
"Then what? And don't you try to deflect me again."
"It's just, hard, okay?" Astriel said nothing, seemingly content to wait as long as he had to. Finally, the silence was too much for the Guardian. "You're my Charge, okay?"
Astriel shifted, looking out over the Ruins below them, but for once the silence didn't seem to be waiting for Sangre to say something. Rather, Astriel seemed to be looking inward for answers. All the same, as the silence stretched out, Sangre felt compelled to say something. He had just opened his jaws to say something, anything, when the imperial turned to look at him again, and the myriad of emotions in his eyes were dizzying for a moment before he blinked and Sangre thought he must have been mistaken. "Why didn't you tell me? Or if not me, someone else? I..." he seemed to pause here, uncertain of his words for the first time Sangre could remember, then continued, "I know there must be things the guardians passed down among yourselves, just as we the imperials hold some secrets close. But I have spoken to Masque about her charge, and I can't think it would have been easy to- to watch me going out to fight, even the times I have taken backup, and then today... well."
He had shifted as he spoke, hiding the scrape from view once again, and Sangre had to shake his head to clear it enough to process the question, because his Charge deserved an answer. "I should have said something. I did want to, really, but... you shouldn't be worrying after me!" he burst out. "You're my Charge, it isn't a two-way street! I could-" he hesitated, then finished the sentence, "I could handle it."
"Yes, but you see, you don't have to handle it alone," a tilt of the head, "at least not here."
Well and if that wasn't more information about his birth clan than he had ever said aloud. "Well maybe I should! Maybe I should get a grip, you can clearly defend yourself!"
Astriel sighed again. "I am your Charge, true. And I'm passingly familiar with what that means in terms of what you'd do for me. And any dragon who could take advantage of that and put forth no effort toward the comfort of their Guardian does not deserve such an honor." The imperial's eyes were bright with the force of his words, and Sangre couldn't help but look away.
Say something, say something, thank him, start yelling again, anything, come on- "You don't have to- have to-" come on Sangre, Rist used that word the other day, what was it- "you don't have to coddle me!"
Why does he look like he's won? "Good, I won't. Learning to fight is a difficult thing, physically and philosophically. But I want to show you the respect of taking your needs into consideration- as your Charge, it would give me joy to do so." Oh. Because he's won.
Astriel waited a beat for a response, then turned back toward the clan.

---

Days passed. Sangre woke early to go and train with Astriel alongside the many dragons who passed through the clan on their way to serve the Lightweaver, continuing to grow stronger with every battle. He allowed himself to relax, thought Astriel had forgotten about that technique- drawing breath when hit, it had been- and continued to push himself as far as possible every day.

Unfortunately for him, his newfound speed and strength eventually allowed him to actually shadow Astriel in a battle, and he had faced down the trio of enemies with a bit too much confidence. They had managed to drive off the enemies together, but in the process Sangre's protective instinct had kicked in and earned him a nasty blow to the chest. Astriel had initially allowed him to continue, believing him when he said he was fine, but Sangre was eventually unable to hide his ragged breathing and Astriel shepherded him home and straight to Gaelan, who had given him bandages and a mixture of leaves and told him to come back if the pain increased. Astriel had taken one look at him when he showed up the next morning and ordered him right back to bed.

He's not wrong, I mean, my ribs do still hurt...
Sangre shifted cautiously, only to muffle a gasp as he spun around to face the dragon who had just entered his cave. He knew he hadn't been entirely successful when Astriel's eyes narrowed, but the imperial seemed to dismiss his now-familiar question in favor of holding out a thin book. Sangre took it cautiously and squinted at the words on the cover. Fortunately, the dragon who had bound it didn't seem too concerned with fancy calligraphy and Sangre was at least able to identify the letters as Draconic. Somehow he didn't think Astriel would be satisfied with that, though.

I have to tell him. Now, faced with a book held in his talons, the pretending that had gotten him along for weeks was finally going to have to crumble. His tail curled uneasily around his back paws as he looked back up at Astriel. "Thank you, -" he cut off, suddenly unsure of what to say. Books and reading were so important to Astriel- he would throw himself into his library every evening and tell Sangre about his discoveries in the mornings as they flew through the ruins.

"But?" Astriel's voice cut through his thoughts and Sangre blinked, subconsciously sinking a shade lower as he shook off his thoughts to look anywhere in the room but the imperial. He caught Astriel's movement toward him and tensed slightly, but the imperial had already stilled himself.

Sangre cast wildly about for a distraction, finding nothing. His pride wouldn't allow him to pretend his injury was bothering him, and so he was left with nothing but the truth: "I can't read."