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White Collar WiP: The Chains That Bind Us (3/?)
... how about more dragon!Neal, everyone? :D (I'm still not sure about the actual odds of this WiP ever being finished, but it's fun to work on ...)
Title: The Chains That Bind Us
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen w/background Peter/Elizabeth
Word Count: 2500 (this part); ~12,500 (so far)
Summary: Fantasy AU in which Peter is a dragonslayer, Neal is a dragon, and Elizabeth is the enchantress who binds him.
Cross-posted: On AO3
Part One | Part Two
Part Three
After that, Neal started going with Peter while he worked. Peter was not entirely comfortable with it, but he wasn't comfortable leaving El alone with the dragon while he was gone, either. And he had to admit that nothing garnered respect when breaking up a bar fight like a few hundred pounds of dragon ambling along at his heels.
None of his worst fears about Neal snapping up children for snacks came to pass. Peter was still on the fence as to whether Neal was simply playing the part of a nice, peaceful, friendly dragon right up until he unleashed a fiery revenge on the entire town, but if Neal was playing a role, he played it to the hilt.
In fact, after a little initial sullenness, he seemed to enjoy himself. Peter often noticed the dragon looking around curiously at the town and its inhabitants -- not so much in a "casing it for shiny things" way (though a little of that, too; Peter sometimes saw him staring intently at a woman's necklace or a set of silver dishes visible through a window) but with open, somewhat childlike fascination. Sometimes he would stop walking just to examine the pattern of bricks in a wall, or to stick his long snout into a drainpipe. Mostly, though, it seemed to be people that interested him; he found them endlessly fascinating, and didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that their reactions to him ranged from surprise to open terror. Children playing in the street, housewives gossiping on their way to market, timber-cutters dragging carts of split wood, drunken farmers stumbling out of the town's two small taverns -- it was all equally interesting to Neal.
He seemed to have no concept of private property. Or walls. In fact, with his long snakelike body and his claws, he could peer or climb over anything that stood between him and something that interested him. Peter kept having to drag him out of people's yards with hasty apologies. ("Sorry, sorry, don't mind us ...")
In the end, this might have been one of the things that prevented the pitchfork-wielding, dragon-hunting mob that Peter kept worrying about. This dragon was so utterly different from anything anyone had ever heard about dragons that no one knew what to make of him. It was easy to fear and hate dragons if you'd only ever heard stories about them or glimpsed one setting a caravan on fire. Having a curious dragon investigating the washing hanging in the backyard was a whole different experience.
Also, Peter kept taking pains to point out at every opportunity that the dragon had been tamed by El's magic. (Neal flattened his neck ruff at the word "tamed", but since it kept him from being hunted by every wannabe dragonslayer in the Valley, he didn't protest too loudly about it.) Peter pointed out the anklet to anyone who asked, and explained, to a certain amount of neck-ruff-flattening, that the dragon was completely harmless, not actually a threat at all.
Nearly everyone in the Valley had come to El at some point for her charms and wards. There was hardly a person for miles around who didn't swear by El's healing potions or who hadn't asked for her help with a difficult childbirth or lambing. They didn't trust the dragon, but they trusted El's enchantments to keep it under control.
It also helped that the sheepherding family had told everyone about the dragon finding their lost child. This had led to a few more requests from (very nervous) visitors to have Neal help find lost things for them: everything from a lamb that had gone astray to an old lady's prized brooch.
Neal was good at it, and he basked in the attention. But Peter couldn't help noticing that Neal never stopped looking up at the sky, wistfully watching birds darting over the village. No matter what they'd managed to convince most of the neighbors, Peter knew that Neal hadn't forgotten he'd once been able to fly. And Peter remained unconvinced that Neal hadn't killed people as well as stealing treasure in his wild, wandering dragon days. He'd been a free and dangerous predator once, and it was evident to Peter that Neal was still looking for an opportunity to slip off the chain and become that predator again.
And not everyone was willing to accept the presence of the dragon without comment. Peter had started receiving a number of dirty looks as he walked down the street, particularly from those who'd known people who had been on the silver caravan that was attacked. Some of the neighbors were no longer speaking to either Peter or El.
Peter's usual habit in the evening was to go for a beer at the tavern with some of his age-mates, but he'd only tried it once since he'd started going out in public with Neal. Naturally he hadn't taken Neal with him, but even so, all conversation had hushed when he'd walked into the tavern. People looked away. When he'd joined his friends at their usual table, the mood was distinctly awkward. Someone asked politely after El, someone else gave him a beer, but it wasn't the same.
He hadn't gone back -- to break up fights occasionally, but not for a social visit.
Things would go back to normal once the dragon was gone, Peter told himself. He almost managed to believe it.
******
Word trickled into the Valley, by way of passing fur traders and a lone merchant caravan, that Keller had struck again -- in a different valley, one that centered its industry around the local gold mine. Several buildings had collapsed, dozens of people had been killed and injured, and the dragon had made off with as much gold as it could carry and still fly.
"Gold mine?" Neal said, perking up.
"It's not your gold, so don't even think about it."
"You can't blame a dragon for thinking, Peter."
Peter thought about going over to see if he could help. But it would take days, leaving his Valley unprotected in the meantime, and the odds were good that Keller wasn't going to come back to the gold mine anytime in the near future anyway. Now that he had more of a pattern to work with, Peter was starting to see Keller's general strategy. He wanted to steal treasure and cause destruction and fear without risking himself any more than necessary. So he wouldn't strike in the same place twice in a row. The gold mine was probably safe for now; it would be fortified with extra defenses, production cut back to accommodate the increased security.
Like our silver mines were.
But now that Neal had been captured and Keller was elsewhere, the silver mines were cranking along at full production again. Peter suspected that the next silver caravan that went out from the mine was likely to be targeted by Keller.
And we'd better be ready.
El had been reluctant to help him brainstorm ways to kill Keller. She was convinced that they could capture Keller with an ankle chain in the same way that they'd captured Neal.
"And then what?"
"And then we'll talk to him, and figure something out," El said equanimously. "Dragons aren't so bad once you get to know them."
"I think Neal's a really unusual dragon," Peter said, looking out into the backyard, where Neal was lying on his back in the grass and lazily watching a couple of butterflies circle over his nose.
El just smiled. "Perhaps dragons are all different from each other, just as human beings are."
******
The next morning, El left at first light to attend a childbirth in one of the sheepherders' little crofts. The woman's husband and two large brothers accompanied her, so Peter figured that she'd be safe; he let her go with a kiss, and settled in to enjoy a few quiet hours of reading in the sunshine that bathed their little house in the mornings. El had quietly traded with the last merchant caravan for a new book, a military history that she'd thought he'd like, and he'd been doling it out to himself in small snatches -- new books were a rarity in the Valley, and time to read was always snatched from his daily responsibilities.
In the morning stillness, he eventually became aware of quiet voices in the backyard. One was Neal's. The other ... he wasn't really sure. Peter laid down the book and went quietly to the window to look out.
Neal tended to show his emotions all over his body, and right now his body language and the perky set of the spines on his back gave clear evidence of delight. Peter couldn't see who -- or what -- he was talking to, though, and their voices were so low that he couldn't tell what they were talking about.
Peter slipped out the front door, closing it with great care, and made his way stealthily around the side of the house. Satchmo, lying in the front yard, gave him a martyred look, as if to say Now there are two of them; where does it end?
As he crept along the wall, he heard Neal say "-- think you can get it off me?" and his heart beat faster. From the hope in Neal's voice, the dragon had to be talking about the ankle chain.
"No," the stranger's voice said immediately. "Human magic -- it's a tangled mess, utterly different from our magic. No one can keep up with all the different ways they do things. But I can ask around, see what I can find out."
Peter slowed still further, edging along the wall. He knew firsthand how sharp Neal's senses were.
"I'd really appreciate that," Neal said, and then in a different, gentler voice than Peter was used to hearing from him, "Thanks for coming, by the way."
"What was I going to do, not come? It's just not the same under the mountain without you around to make things interesting."
Peter peeked around the corner.
Neal was lying on his belly in the grass, filling much of the backyard, with his tail snaking under El's rosebushes. A few feet in front of his nose, perched on the edge of the stone well housing was a ... a something. Peter wasn't actually sure what it was. It was dragonlike, with scales and wings, but, sitting up on its haunches, it was only about two and a half feet tall. In contrast to Neal's sinuous grace, it was wide and squat with a stubby, doglike muzzle.
A wyvern? Peter thought, remembering plates of different kinds of dragons in some of the old books he'd seen. They were a kind of small dragon. But, no -- wyverns only had two legs, and this creature had four. Perhaps a gargoyle? But, no, they're supposed to be extinct ... and all the sculptures are much larger, nearly bear-sized ...
The little creature froze, hissed and scuttled down from the well. Neal's neck ruff went flat and he looked around. "Mozzie? What's wrong?"
"Human," Mozzie hissed, baring his teeth and scuttling behind Neal.
Neal's glance at Peter was warily bemused. "Oh ... that's not a human, that's Peter." He frowned slightly as he realized what he'd said, then shook himself, and gave Peter a small, rueful smile. "This house is where he and his wife live. I might have known he'd notice us."
"That's the same wife who put that chain on you?" Mozzie demanded. All Peter could see of him was a pair of bright eyes, glimmering from the shadow of Neal's wing.
"Yes," Neal said, "but they're all right. For humans."
Peter cleared his throat. "What is that?"
Mozzie squeaked. He withdrew deeper into the shadow under Neal's wing, and gave a small growl.
"He's a gargoyle," Neal said.
"I've heard of them. I thought they were extinct." Peter eyed the gargoyle that was still glaring at him from the shelter of Neal's wings. "Also, I always thought they'd be bigger."
******
Mozzie was eventually coaxed out of hiding when Peter brought out a bottle of blackberry wine. It had been payment from one of El's customers. Peter poured some into two pottery cups for the gargoyle and himself. Neal looked wistful until Peter handed him the bottle, still half full. Neal grinned and clasped it carefully in the claws of one large paw.
"So ... not so extinct after all, I guess," Peter said, sitting in the sun with his back against the garden wall and watching the gargoyle lapping from the cup.
"You humans," Mozzie scoffed. "You don't believe in anything unless you see it with your own eyes, and just because you never see us doesn't mean we're gone. We gargoyles prefer quiet dark places, close to stone and water. Unlike dragons --" he gave Neal a scowl that managed to be both exasperated and fond "-- we don't feel the need to advertise our presence or bother humans at all. We go about our business and let you go about yours."
"And yet you're here," Peter said, raising an eyebrow invitingly.
"I go where I please, Human," Mozzie said loftily, and buried his snout in the cup of wine.
"Total coincidence you happened to show up in my backyard, then. Right where Neal is."
Mozzie's eyes went wide -- they were big eyes anyway, big dark-adapted eyes; the sunlight made him squint. "I was ... traveling," he said. "Saw an old friend. Thought I'd stop in."
Uh-huh. In a small backyard garden in the middle of the village. Peter opened his mouth to press further ... and then shut it again.
Because, really, why shouldn't Neal visit with a friend every once in a while? Peter glanced at the dragon, who was lying with his head stretched out on the grass and the empty wine bottle in front of him, snaking his long tongue into the bottle to get out the last drops. Living here must be a very strange, lonely existence for him.
I am not feeling sorry for a dragon. A giant killing machine with legs.
Besides, if he pressed for answers, he guessed both of them would lie to him. Clearly Neal had contacted Mozzie -- somehow -- in the hopes that the little gargoyle could help free him from the chain. Peter could chase Mozzie off and ... then what? Maybe Neal's next "old friend" would be something a lot more dangerous than a two-foot-high gargoyle. And this way, he and El could keep an eye on what they were up to.
Nothing to do with feeling sorry for the dragon at all.
~~~
TBC
I actually felt quite guilty about making Mozzie a gargoyle. XD When I started writing this, he was going to be a wyvern -- a small dragon. But ... I don't know, it just fit. I'm sorry? I don't think he's particularly gargoyle-like on the show, really I don't! But I wanted him to be something that was significantly different from Neal ...
Title: The Chains That Bind Us
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen w/background Peter/Elizabeth
Word Count: 2500 (this part); ~12,500 (so far)
Summary: Fantasy AU in which Peter is a dragonslayer, Neal is a dragon, and Elizabeth is the enchantress who binds him.
Cross-posted: On AO3
Part One | Part Two
Part Three
After that, Neal started going with Peter while he worked. Peter was not entirely comfortable with it, but he wasn't comfortable leaving El alone with the dragon while he was gone, either. And he had to admit that nothing garnered respect when breaking up a bar fight like a few hundred pounds of dragon ambling along at his heels.
None of his worst fears about Neal snapping up children for snacks came to pass. Peter was still on the fence as to whether Neal was simply playing the part of a nice, peaceful, friendly dragon right up until he unleashed a fiery revenge on the entire town, but if Neal was playing a role, he played it to the hilt.
In fact, after a little initial sullenness, he seemed to enjoy himself. Peter often noticed the dragon looking around curiously at the town and its inhabitants -- not so much in a "casing it for shiny things" way (though a little of that, too; Peter sometimes saw him staring intently at a woman's necklace or a set of silver dishes visible through a window) but with open, somewhat childlike fascination. Sometimes he would stop walking just to examine the pattern of bricks in a wall, or to stick his long snout into a drainpipe. Mostly, though, it seemed to be people that interested him; he found them endlessly fascinating, and didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that their reactions to him ranged from surprise to open terror. Children playing in the street, housewives gossiping on their way to market, timber-cutters dragging carts of split wood, drunken farmers stumbling out of the town's two small taverns -- it was all equally interesting to Neal.
He seemed to have no concept of private property. Or walls. In fact, with his long snakelike body and his claws, he could peer or climb over anything that stood between him and something that interested him. Peter kept having to drag him out of people's yards with hasty apologies. ("Sorry, sorry, don't mind us ...")
In the end, this might have been one of the things that prevented the pitchfork-wielding, dragon-hunting mob that Peter kept worrying about. This dragon was so utterly different from anything anyone had ever heard about dragons that no one knew what to make of him. It was easy to fear and hate dragons if you'd only ever heard stories about them or glimpsed one setting a caravan on fire. Having a curious dragon investigating the washing hanging in the backyard was a whole different experience.
Also, Peter kept taking pains to point out at every opportunity that the dragon had been tamed by El's magic. (Neal flattened his neck ruff at the word "tamed", but since it kept him from being hunted by every wannabe dragonslayer in the Valley, he didn't protest too loudly about it.) Peter pointed out the anklet to anyone who asked, and explained, to a certain amount of neck-ruff-flattening, that the dragon was completely harmless, not actually a threat at all.
Nearly everyone in the Valley had come to El at some point for her charms and wards. There was hardly a person for miles around who didn't swear by El's healing potions or who hadn't asked for her help with a difficult childbirth or lambing. They didn't trust the dragon, but they trusted El's enchantments to keep it under control.
It also helped that the sheepherding family had told everyone about the dragon finding their lost child. This had led to a few more requests from (very nervous) visitors to have Neal help find lost things for them: everything from a lamb that had gone astray to an old lady's prized brooch.
Neal was good at it, and he basked in the attention. But Peter couldn't help noticing that Neal never stopped looking up at the sky, wistfully watching birds darting over the village. No matter what they'd managed to convince most of the neighbors, Peter knew that Neal hadn't forgotten he'd once been able to fly. And Peter remained unconvinced that Neal hadn't killed people as well as stealing treasure in his wild, wandering dragon days. He'd been a free and dangerous predator once, and it was evident to Peter that Neal was still looking for an opportunity to slip off the chain and become that predator again.
And not everyone was willing to accept the presence of the dragon without comment. Peter had started receiving a number of dirty looks as he walked down the street, particularly from those who'd known people who had been on the silver caravan that was attacked. Some of the neighbors were no longer speaking to either Peter or El.
Peter's usual habit in the evening was to go for a beer at the tavern with some of his age-mates, but he'd only tried it once since he'd started going out in public with Neal. Naturally he hadn't taken Neal with him, but even so, all conversation had hushed when he'd walked into the tavern. People looked away. When he'd joined his friends at their usual table, the mood was distinctly awkward. Someone asked politely after El, someone else gave him a beer, but it wasn't the same.
He hadn't gone back -- to break up fights occasionally, but not for a social visit.
Things would go back to normal once the dragon was gone, Peter told himself. He almost managed to believe it.
Word trickled into the Valley, by way of passing fur traders and a lone merchant caravan, that Keller had struck again -- in a different valley, one that centered its industry around the local gold mine. Several buildings had collapsed, dozens of people had been killed and injured, and the dragon had made off with as much gold as it could carry and still fly.
"Gold mine?" Neal said, perking up.
"It's not your gold, so don't even think about it."
"You can't blame a dragon for thinking, Peter."
Peter thought about going over to see if he could help. But it would take days, leaving his Valley unprotected in the meantime, and the odds were good that Keller wasn't going to come back to the gold mine anytime in the near future anyway. Now that he had more of a pattern to work with, Peter was starting to see Keller's general strategy. He wanted to steal treasure and cause destruction and fear without risking himself any more than necessary. So he wouldn't strike in the same place twice in a row. The gold mine was probably safe for now; it would be fortified with extra defenses, production cut back to accommodate the increased security.
Like our silver mines were.
But now that Neal had been captured and Keller was elsewhere, the silver mines were cranking along at full production again. Peter suspected that the next silver caravan that went out from the mine was likely to be targeted by Keller.
And we'd better be ready.
El had been reluctant to help him brainstorm ways to kill Keller. She was convinced that they could capture Keller with an ankle chain in the same way that they'd captured Neal.
"And then what?"
"And then we'll talk to him, and figure something out," El said equanimously. "Dragons aren't so bad once you get to know them."
"I think Neal's a really unusual dragon," Peter said, looking out into the backyard, where Neal was lying on his back in the grass and lazily watching a couple of butterflies circle over his nose.
El just smiled. "Perhaps dragons are all different from each other, just as human beings are."
The next morning, El left at first light to attend a childbirth in one of the sheepherders' little crofts. The woman's husband and two large brothers accompanied her, so Peter figured that she'd be safe; he let her go with a kiss, and settled in to enjoy a few quiet hours of reading in the sunshine that bathed their little house in the mornings. El had quietly traded with the last merchant caravan for a new book, a military history that she'd thought he'd like, and he'd been doling it out to himself in small snatches -- new books were a rarity in the Valley, and time to read was always snatched from his daily responsibilities.
In the morning stillness, he eventually became aware of quiet voices in the backyard. One was Neal's. The other ... he wasn't really sure. Peter laid down the book and went quietly to the window to look out.
Neal tended to show his emotions all over his body, and right now his body language and the perky set of the spines on his back gave clear evidence of delight. Peter couldn't see who -- or what -- he was talking to, though, and their voices were so low that he couldn't tell what they were talking about.
Peter slipped out the front door, closing it with great care, and made his way stealthily around the side of the house. Satchmo, lying in the front yard, gave him a martyred look, as if to say Now there are two of them; where does it end?
As he crept along the wall, he heard Neal say "-- think you can get it off me?" and his heart beat faster. From the hope in Neal's voice, the dragon had to be talking about the ankle chain.
"No," the stranger's voice said immediately. "Human magic -- it's a tangled mess, utterly different from our magic. No one can keep up with all the different ways they do things. But I can ask around, see what I can find out."
Peter slowed still further, edging along the wall. He knew firsthand how sharp Neal's senses were.
"I'd really appreciate that," Neal said, and then in a different, gentler voice than Peter was used to hearing from him, "Thanks for coming, by the way."
"What was I going to do, not come? It's just not the same under the mountain without you around to make things interesting."
Peter peeked around the corner.
Neal was lying on his belly in the grass, filling much of the backyard, with his tail snaking under El's rosebushes. A few feet in front of his nose, perched on the edge of the stone well housing was a ... a something. Peter wasn't actually sure what it was. It was dragonlike, with scales and wings, but, sitting up on its haunches, it was only about two and a half feet tall. In contrast to Neal's sinuous grace, it was wide and squat with a stubby, doglike muzzle.
A wyvern? Peter thought, remembering plates of different kinds of dragons in some of the old books he'd seen. They were a kind of small dragon. But, no -- wyverns only had two legs, and this creature had four. Perhaps a gargoyle? But, no, they're supposed to be extinct ... and all the sculptures are much larger, nearly bear-sized ...
The little creature froze, hissed and scuttled down from the well. Neal's neck ruff went flat and he looked around. "Mozzie? What's wrong?"
"Human," Mozzie hissed, baring his teeth and scuttling behind Neal.
Neal's glance at Peter was warily bemused. "Oh ... that's not a human, that's Peter." He frowned slightly as he realized what he'd said, then shook himself, and gave Peter a small, rueful smile. "This house is where he and his wife live. I might have known he'd notice us."
"That's the same wife who put that chain on you?" Mozzie demanded. All Peter could see of him was a pair of bright eyes, glimmering from the shadow of Neal's wing.
"Yes," Neal said, "but they're all right. For humans."
Peter cleared his throat. "What is that?"
Mozzie squeaked. He withdrew deeper into the shadow under Neal's wing, and gave a small growl.
"He's a gargoyle," Neal said.
"I've heard of them. I thought they were extinct." Peter eyed the gargoyle that was still glaring at him from the shelter of Neal's wings. "Also, I always thought they'd be bigger."
Mozzie was eventually coaxed out of hiding when Peter brought out a bottle of blackberry wine. It had been payment from one of El's customers. Peter poured some into two pottery cups for the gargoyle and himself. Neal looked wistful until Peter handed him the bottle, still half full. Neal grinned and clasped it carefully in the claws of one large paw.
"So ... not so extinct after all, I guess," Peter said, sitting in the sun with his back against the garden wall and watching the gargoyle lapping from the cup.
"You humans," Mozzie scoffed. "You don't believe in anything unless you see it with your own eyes, and just because you never see us doesn't mean we're gone. We gargoyles prefer quiet dark places, close to stone and water. Unlike dragons --" he gave Neal a scowl that managed to be both exasperated and fond "-- we don't feel the need to advertise our presence or bother humans at all. We go about our business and let you go about yours."
"And yet you're here," Peter said, raising an eyebrow invitingly.
"I go where I please, Human," Mozzie said loftily, and buried his snout in the cup of wine.
"Total coincidence you happened to show up in my backyard, then. Right where Neal is."
Mozzie's eyes went wide -- they were big eyes anyway, big dark-adapted eyes; the sunlight made him squint. "I was ... traveling," he said. "Saw an old friend. Thought I'd stop in."
Uh-huh. In a small backyard garden in the middle of the village. Peter opened his mouth to press further ... and then shut it again.
Because, really, why shouldn't Neal visit with a friend every once in a while? Peter glanced at the dragon, who was lying with his head stretched out on the grass and the empty wine bottle in front of him, snaking his long tongue into the bottle to get out the last drops. Living here must be a very strange, lonely existence for him.
I am not feeling sorry for a dragon. A giant killing machine with legs.
Besides, if he pressed for answers, he guessed both of them would lie to him. Clearly Neal had contacted Mozzie -- somehow -- in the hopes that the little gargoyle could help free him from the chain. Peter could chase Mozzie off and ... then what? Maybe Neal's next "old friend" would be something a lot more dangerous than a two-foot-high gargoyle. And this way, he and El could keep an eye on what they were up to.
Nothing to do with feeling sorry for the dragon at all.
~~~
TBC
I actually felt quite guilty about making Mozzie a gargoyle. XD When I started writing this, he was going to be a wyvern -- a small dragon. But ... I don't know, it just fit. I'm sorry? I don't think he's particularly gargoyle-like on the show, really I don't! But I wanted him to be something that was significantly different from Neal ...