[The Dragon Girl's POV]

The world was dark behind her arms.

The dragon girl squeezed her eyes shut. She held her breath.

She waited for the pain. It was the only constant in her life.

But what she felt was the not-so-harmful touch on top of her head.

The hand on her head was heavy. It was warm.

It felt like a trap.

Any second now, the fingers would tighten. They would pull. They would hurt.

But seconds ticked by, but the pain... did not come.

Instead, the thumb moved. It rubbed gentle circles on the top of her head.

It felt... strange.

It sent a shiver down her spine. Not a shiver of fear, but something else.

Something soft.

She slowly unclenched her jaw. She let out a shaky breath.

She carefully opened one eye.

All she could see was her own dirty arm. And the stone floor.

She lowered her arms just a fraction. She peeked over her forearm.

The man was still there.

He was crouching in front of her. He was close. Too close.

But he wasn't smiling that twisted smile. The one Elowen always had.

Elowen's smile was sharp. It showed too many teeth.

But this man was not smiling like that.

His face was soft. His mouth was a straight line, but the corners were turned up just a little.

His eyes were grey-blue. They looked tired.

But they also looked... sad?

Why was he sad? He wasn't the one on the table. He wasn't the one in chains.

He was looking at her. He was looking right at her face.

He was looking into her eyes.

"See?" the man said softly.

His voice rumbled in his chest. It was deep and calm.

"Everything is alright," he said. "We are not going to harm you."

He kept moving his hand on her head.

Pat.

Pat.

Rub.

It felt nice. It felt really nice.

She wanted to lean into it. Her body wanted to push against the warmth.

But her mind screamed at her.

Run, her instincts hissed. Bite him. Scratch him. Escape.

Humans lie. Humans always lie.

They give you food, then they hit you.

They give you a blanket, then they take it away.

They say "good girl," then they cut you.

She looked past the man. She looked at the little girl standing behind him.

The little girl was scary.

She had thrown her against the wall without touching her. She had magic.

But the little girl wasn't attacking either. She was just watching.

Why were they different?

Why did they heal her?

The skin on her arms felt smooth. The burning fire in her shoulders was gone.

No one had ever taken the pain away before. They only added to it.

"We are here to help," the man repeated.

Help?

The word was foreign. It sounded like a lie.

Humans helped themselves. They used dragons for parts. For blood. For scales.

Since the moment she hatched, that was the rule.

She remembered the first cage. It was cold iron.

She remembered the first master. He had a whip.

He used to laugh when she cried.

Then came the merchant. He kept her in a box. It was dark. He didn't feed her.

Then came the Lady. The Lady was the worst.

The Lady loved the screams.

Every human was a monster. That was the truth of the world.

So why was this man touching her so gently?

Why were his eyes wet?

A memory surfaced in her mind. It was old and faded. Like a dream.

She was in a different cell. A larger one.

There was an old woman there. She had grey hair and wrinkled skin.

The woman was a slave too. She cleaned the cages.

Sometimes, when the guards weren't looking, the woman would talk to her.

She would push a piece of bread through the bars.

"Eat, little one," the woman would whisper.

One night, it was storming. Thunder shook the dungeon.

The dragon girl was scared. She was crying in the dark.

The old woman sat by the bars. She reached in.

She couldn't reach the dragon girl. But she stretched her hand out.

"Hush now," the woman sang. It was a lullaby.

"Don't cry. You are not alone."

The woman told her a story. A story about a place called "home."

"In a home," the woman said, "people don't hurt you. They hold you."

"They are called a family," the woman explained. "A family protects you. No matter what."

"A family loves you," she said. "Unconditionally."

The dragon girl didn't know what "unconditionally" meant.

"It means they love you just because you are you," the woman said. "Not because you are useful. Not because you are pretty."

"Just because you exist."

The dragon girl had listened. She had stopped crying.

She wanted that. She wanted a family.

She wanted to be held. She wanted to be safe.

Every night after that, she waited for the woman.

She waited for the stories about families. About warm fires and soft beds.

But one day, the woman didn't come.

A guard came instead. He dragged a sack out of the cell.

The dragon girl never saw the woman again.

The dream died that day.

Family was a lie. It was a story old women told to make the dark less scary.

There was no love. There was only pain and use.

The dragon girl looked at Marcus again.

He was still patting her head. He hadn't stopped.

He hadn't asked for anything. He hadn't pulled a knife.

He was just... being there.

Could it be?

Could the story be real?

Her heart hammered in her chest. It was a painful, hopeful rhythm.

She looked at his face. It was open. It was kind.

He looked like the old woman sounded.

He looked like safety.

Her body started to betray her.

The tension in her muscles began to melt. Her shoulders dropped.

She stopped pressing herself against the wall.

She leaned forward. Just a tiny bit.

She leaned into his hand.

Marcus smiled. It was a real smile. It reached his eyes.

"There you go," he whispered. "Good girl."

He didn't say it like a master praising a pet. He said it like he was proud of her.

The dragon girl felt a lump in her throat.

Her eyes burned. But not from smoke.

Water welled up in them.

She blinked. A tear rolled down her cheek.

It traced a path through the dirt on her face.

Then another tear. And another.

She wasn't crying from pain. She was crying because the pain had stopped.

She was crying because for the first time in her life, a human was touching her without hurting her.

She looked at the little girl behind him.

The little girl nodded. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement.

It was permission.

The dragon girl let out a sob. It was a small, broken sound.

She lowered her arms completely. She exposed her face.

She looked at Marcus with wide, wet eyes.

She didn't speak.

But her eyes asked a question.

Are you my family?

Marcus seemed to understand.

He moved his other hand. He wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"I have got you," he said again. "We are getting out of here."

The fear in her gut began to recede.

In its place, a tiny flame of hope flickered to life.

She sniffled. She leaned her head further into his palm.

She closed her eyes again. But this time, she wasn't hiding.

She was accepting.

She decided to trust him.

Just for now. Just for this moment.

Because his hand was warm. And she was so, so tired of being cold.

✧✧✧

[Third Person POV]

Marcus felt her relax. He let out a breath he had been holding.

He looked back at the mysterious little girl.

She looked bored again. But her eyes were softer than before.

'She is calm,' Marcus projected. 'Good job on the healing.'

'Don't get used to it,' the girl replied. 'Now, can we please leave? This place smells atrocious.'

Marcus chuckled softly.

He looked back at the dragon girl.

"Can you stand?" he asked gently.

The dragon girl opened her eyes. She nodded slowly.

She pushed herself up. Her legs were shaky, but they held.

She didn't let go of Marcus's gaze. He was her anchor.

If she looked away, she was afraid he might vanish.

Marcus stood up. He offered her his hand. Not to pat her head this time, but to hold.

"Take my hand," he said.

The dragon girl looked at his open palm.

It was big.

She reached out. Her hand was tiny compared to his. Her black claws were sharp.

She hesitated. She didn't want to scratch him.

"It is okay," Marcus assured her. "I don't mind."

She nodded slowly.

She moved her hand closer. Her fingertips almost brushed his skin.

Then, she froze.

The smile vanished instantly.

Her eyes went wide. The pupils constricted into thin, trembling slits.

The hope in her face died and was replaced by a terror so raw it looked painful.

She began to shake violently.

Marcus frowned. Confusion washed over him.

'What is it?' he thought. 'Did I scare her?'

Marcus realized she wasn't exactly looking at him. She was looking at something just behind him and her gaze was locked on to it.

But just as he was about to turn around.

Marcus felt a cold shadow fall over him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He realized his mistake.

He had been so focused on the girl, he had stopped listening to the hallway.

A voice cut through the silence.

It was soft. It was melodic. It was dripping with sadistic delight.

"Ara~Ara~" Elowen cooed.

Marcus froze.

"Looks like we have a bad pet here," she whispered.

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