Disclaimer: Nico and Will are not mine. The plot, however, is.

~ΨΩΨ~

Gwillym

Prologue: Hunter

KNIGHTS WANTED!

A dragon has been witnessed flying off with the cattle of our local ranchers, and the stealing has been occurring closer and closer to town in each passing. Our people are beginning to fear for their safety. Any group of knights willing to venture out to slay the foul beast will be paid handsomely should they return with its head.

For more information, go to the Delvwin bar in the southeast section of town, and turn into the alley. Go into the only door there.

God bless you, kind souls.

The city of Delvwin

Nico hummed under his breath as he read the post, before ripping it from the bulletin to inspect it a little closer. They weren't very clear exactly what the knights would have to deal with, were they? With a sigh, he rubbed his chin and fingered the stubble starting to grow there.

With an impatient whicker, the black-haired man's horse bumped the back of his head with its muzzle. Nico chuckled a little under his breath and turned to his steed.

"Easy there, Blackjack," he murmured, stroking his jet-black nose. "Let me think."

Blackjack bobbed his head and whinnied softly, swishing his tail. He stuck his nose into the pack over Nico's shoulder.

Nico batted the horse away. "No treats yet," he said plainly. Then he looked down at his hunting dog Mrs. O'Leary and sighed when he saw her sitting beside Blackjack with a begging look on her face. "We'll eat soon enough," Nico tried to soothe them. "But I'm out of money and running low on supplies, so we need a slaying job before we can buy any food. Can the two of you wait?"

Blackjack whickered and Mrs. O'Leary bowed her head.

Nico nodded, and looked back at the notice, then to the bulletin. He exhaled slowly. "Alright," he whispered, adjusting the pack over his shoulder. "Southeastern part of town. That's not too far from here." He nodded to his only friends. "Go try to find some food for yourselves. I can walk there, no problem. But don't stray too far, alright?"

Mrs. O'Leary barked and leapt to her feet, tail wagging and tongue lolling as she began to pant happily. Blackjack reared his head and bounced playfully on light hooves, and the two of them trotted off for the edge of town.

With a small, grim smile, Nico's free hand slid instinctively to the sheath at his hip, and he set off to the bar.

People didn't even spare the man a glance as they bustled about, but the occasional one shooting a wary look skyward, revealing to Nico that the notice had been right on at least one point thus far.

Upon walking up to the bar, Nico located and walked down the alley at its side, and looked for the door. It was camouflaged almost completely in the shadows, and the secrecy of the placing had his grip tightening on his sword.

With silent feet, he made his way to that door and gently opened it, careful not to make a single noise. As he did so, he readied his sword hand for a quick draw, should anything threatening be waiting on the other side.

"I know yer there."

Nico froze, letting the door swing the rest of the way open. Wood clunked deafeningly against brick.

The speaker was a man sitting hunched in a chair, elbowed leaning heavily into the dining table that separated the two men. Nico and the man, a blond under a blanket of mud and grime, gauged each other for a few moments.

The blond stood. "I 'ake ih yer 'ere 'cause of the pos'?" He nodded to the scrap of paper in Nico's hand. Then he cocked his head to the side. "Yer know, I dih say a grou' of knigh's when I wroh tha'. An' I don' see one."

Nico said nothing.

The man leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. "Whuh's a boy like yer goin' 'oo do agains' a dragon, hm? Yer bla'e may look fancy, buh tha' means noth'n."

"I'm not a boy!" Nico spouted without thought.

Teeth were missing from the blond's grin. "Ah, yer no', eh?"

The black-haired man bristled and clamped his mouth shut.

"'Erhaps youn' man, then? Yer looks 'oo be abou' se'en'een, eigh'een?"

"Twenty," Nico corrected, deathly quiet.

The blond laughed. "Yer small for yer age, kih!"

"Just give me the details about the dragon, and I can be on my way," Nico snapped.

But the man would have none of that. "Wha's yer name?"

Nico narrowed his eyes.

The blond chuckled again. "I'm Oc'avian," he held out a hand. "Who're yer?"

"Nico." Nico didn't take Octavian's hand. "Can you just get on with it?"

"Why're yer so willin' 'oo go off an' geh yerself kille'?" Octavian's grin widened, showing off his missing teeth even more. Bile rose in Nico's throat. "Tryin' to im'ress some woman of yers?"

Nico rolled his eyes. "That's none of your concern. Now tell me what I want, or you end up with a sword down your throat." He drew his sword with a flourish.

"Aye, aye," Octavian sighed, not seeming all that concerned. He pulled out a slip of parchment from seemingly nowhere and unfolded it. "The dra'on slaugh'ering the ca'hle is always sigh'ed north of the ou'skir's of 'own." He handed the paper to Nico, who saw that it was a crudely drawn map of the town and a road stretching northward. "Follow tha' road 'oo the moun'ains, and you'll be near ih. Sa'ly, no one has mana'ed 'oo find ihs nes'. We canno' 'ell if the beas' is a male or female, an' the colorin' of the beas' is un'lear, bein' as ih only s'rihes a' nigh'. Sigh'in's say ihs a golden s'aled feer-breather."

Nico was finding it harder and harder to understand the guy, but he nodded as though he had understood every word. A fire breather up in the northern mountains—that at least gave Nico some hint as to what it was he was up against. "What color fire?" he wondered.

Octavian frowned. "Eh, boy? Feer co'or? Why is tha' so impor'an'?"

"Determines the rank of the dragon," Nico explained, sighing. "The kingdom never told anyone about it, did they? Well, you have the no-fire dragons at the bottom, the smoke breathers, and then the fire-breathers that spit red, orange, yellow, blue, and white fire. The poison-spitters are at the same rank as the white fires. You said this dragon was a fire-breather?"

Octavian nodded. "No one mentioned the feer co'or," he admitted.

"It's fine," Nico stated dully. He turned to the door. "I'll take my leave, and hope my path crosses with your dragon. How much is the reward?"

Octavian's grin returned. "'Oo thousan'."

"Three," Nico corrected, and left.

Sheathing his sword, he left the alley and whistled for his horse and dog, heading north. They came bounding in shortly, so Nico could mount Blackjack and take off at a trot in the direction of the road on Octavian's map. It better not be a hoax, Nico thought darkly. Or that man's going to be Mrs. O'Leary's next meal.

He grinned at the image that left in his head.

The sun was reaching its midday peak by the time Nico rode Blackjack to the path drawn on the map, and Nico could figure the trek would take at least two days to get to the mountains and back, plus another day depending on how long it took to slay the dragon.

The thought made him cringe a bit, like it always did. But it was becoming easier for him to come to terms with it, so he wouldn't hesitate and get his head bitten off like what almost happened the first few times he went to kill a beast.

Deeper down the road, Mrs. O'Leary leapt in front of Blackjack and crouched down, growing at the road ahead. Nico's horse stopped with a displeased snort, but otherwise made no noise.

Nico gazed into the forest around them intently, reaching for the hilt of his sword. The mountains were right above them, and it was only evening. Were they there already?

Mrs. O'Leary crept forward cautiously, snuffling the ground as Blackjack followed close behind. His horse lowered his own head, paying close attention to Nico's hunting dog as she checked their surroundings. Silently, Nico drew his sword.

Lifting her tail, Mrs. O'Leary's head shot up and pointed to one side of the path.

She's picked up its scent, Nico thought.

The black-haired man freed his other hand from Blackjack's reins and snapped his fingers. In an instant, both his dog and his horse bolted into the forest. He crouched low against Blackjack and tucked his sword against his side, angled so it was always at the ready but not slicing his skin. Even then, the branches occasionally whacked at him and tore into his cloak.

The ride was short and swift before Nico's dog slowed to a trot, the fur on her haunches raised. They were nearing the mountain's base, where the bottom river met a steep incline. The perfect habitat for dragons—a nest where they're close to water while also being difficult for enemies to get to them.

Unfortunately for the dragon, Nico was used to those sorts of places. The man took a glance at the lowering sun, and gauged the sunlight to last at least two or three more hours.

Plenty of time to find a route to the cave, wherever it is, Nico reasoned, jumping off Blackjack's saddle with his sword still drawn. He addressed the mountainside intently.

"Where do you smell it?" the man whispered to Mrs. O'Leary. "Directly ahead? To the side? Behind? Where is the nest?"

The large hunting dog sniffed and padded onwards. Directly ahead, then?

Nico patted Blackjack's neck and told him to stay there until they came back before following after Mrs. O'Leary.

He shouldered his emergency-supply pack with a well-earned grimace. Even if he knew how to scale steep mountainsides, it didn't mean he had to enjoy it. Especially fording through the river at the base in order to even reach it! That took quite a bit of walking, (At the very least mountain rivers were less water and more rushing, so it wasn't too difficult to find a rock bed in the current. Though the water was as cold as the icy pits of hell, in Nico's opinion) but at least they managed to cross before the sun started to set. Nico didn't want to try following his dog or finding his horse in complete darkness.

Nico and Mrs. O'Leary climbed the mountain slowly, every so often changing direction as the hunting dog's scent trail veered off to a different area. The wall of stone looked empty to the black-haired man, but he knew how much dragons preferred camouflaging their nests.

If Nico had been a dragon, he would have had a cave in an area like that, too. Anything other than to have your head struck off by a puny mortal, after all. But he wasn't a dragon, and he had to strike off that head. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to feed and shelter himself and his companions. He couldn't spare any time to feel sympathy for that dragon—it stole food, so it had to die. Simple as that.

The man breathed a sigh of discomfort when Mrs. O'Leary pawed the ground and unearthed a section of the chasm apparently housing the dragon. With a pressure in his gut much like the weight of a rock, he readied his sword. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the beast, the fire, or the blood. Anything but the blood.

But he helped his hound dig a hole large enough in the nest for them to squeeze inside, and crawled in, sword in front of the man at all times.

The smell of dragon came at him in waves, turning the rock-like weight into a boulder. No doubt about it, there was a dragon living in that nest—and was most likely in there at that very moment.

With a growl, Mrs. O'Leary drew Nico's attention to her, where she promptly jabbed her nose to the right of the pitch-black cave and walked on. In order to keep from getting lost, the hunter was forced to follow close behind and shove his hesitant thoughts far, far away from himself.

He needed the money, after all.

The stench of dragon only got stronger the deeper they got in the nest, but it was an odd sort of stench, much unlike any of the others Nico had smelled. Mainly it smelled of rotten flesh and the metallic bite of blood and gems, but this one was a bit different. It smelled of life, as though the dragon had a garden inside every shadowy room that they passed by. And not just a garden—an herb garden. Heavens forbid the dragon he was going to kill wanted a fresher breath, because that alone would have killed Nico, no need for the damned fire!

And so, Nico ended up using one hand to carry his sword and the other to hold over his mouth as he and Mrs. O'Leary slunk silently through the tunnels, eyes watering as the stench worsened. He had to feel bad for his dog on that, but the brave hound made no sound of complaint.

That is, until the voice called out and made them both jump and freeze, coaxing that traitorous yelp out of the poor dog.

"I know you're there," it spoke, voice masculine (though that said nothing of its gender, Nico had met plenty of females with that same deep tone). "Why don't you come out now before I have to turn you into a pile of charcoal? I find humans a lot better alive, after all. A lot more entertaining."

Nico cursed under his breath in his home tongue, but stepped into the room where the voice had echoed out from, holding his sword as steady as he could have in the situation—which was, if he was going to be completely honest—almost not at all. Especially after he'd gotten a look at the owner of the voice.

The dragon was so large that it was half the size of the coliseum-sized cavern with its body alone, golden-colored scales glittering on its hide similarly to the bed of gold and silver coins and jewels it was resting on. White feathers covered the folds and curves of its hide, even making up a good majority of the beast's wings, while its long tail swished through coins in sounds like the pittering of rain and the clinging of thin metal, its tip puffed with the same plumage. Its head was lying on the mound of treasure, eyes almost sleepy as they gazed over at Nico.

With a grunt, the dragon shifted on its nest and readjusted itself, crossing its forelegs and turning its head slightly to get a better look at the human before it, the hunting hound at the man's heels whimpering softly, tail between her legs.

White feathers, Nico thought subconsciously. Feathers. It's stronger than a regular scaled-fire-breather, at the very least. And older than most, by its size.

The dragon and the man looked each other over for a moment more before the dragon parted its jaws to speak in a deep, rumbling voice that made the floor of coins shudder. "You have found my home," it said, not sounding very surprised.

Nico swallowed, trying to keep his sword raised.

The beast cocked its head. "Are you here to slay me?" it drawled. "Or perhaps to threaten me into offering you some of my treasure? If that, be my guest and take a handful. I have too much for my liking, anyway."

Nico's eyebrows furrowed. "D-Dragon treasure is bad l-luck," he stammered, trembling unwillingly.

"Not when given willingly," the dragon responded, sounding disappointed. "I take it, then, you're here to try and slay me."

Nico gritted his teeth and forced himself to calm down; turning to the same mindset he had for every other slaying. It's just an animal, he thought, and you're the hunter who needs its meat and hide for food and warmth. End its life, and strike. Kill it quick and without pain.

But he found himself unable to move in the piercing blue-eyed gaze of the dragon.

"Will you not answer?" it murmured softly, voice like a brush of fresh air in the musky smell of caves around them.

Nico shuddered.

The beast lifted its head, and stretched its neck so it was closer to him. "At the very least," it said, just as softly. "Tell me your name."

The human blinked. "Wh-Why should I tell you that?"

"Because the victim has a right to know the name of his killer."

The dragon's gaze was so, so soft, as if Nico were its baby and not its hunter. Nico found himself involuntarily melting under that gaze. "N-Nico. Nico di Angelo," he mumbled, lowering his sword. Vaguely, he heard the clatter of that sword falling to the ground a moment later, but he was captured in the dragon's gaze.

"Nico the angel," the dragon tasted the name carefully, as though it were a sacred thing. "So sad, isn't it, that you were here to kill me, little angel?"

If Nico hadn't been hypnotized, he would have bristled and sputtered at the monstrosity for daring to even mention what his name meant and then making a damn pet name out of it. It was embarrassing enough to his fellow knights, but a dragon—a beautiful, powerful, golden dragon who watched on him with such a gentle gaze? It was downright humiliating.

But Nico couldn't care any less, because the beast was shrinking, morphing into a human like the black-haired man was. And bloody hell was he gorgeous.

Sun-kissed skin, bright blue eyes and golden hair greeted Nico, on a face that would have borne the name angel far better than he did. It was, indeed, a man's body the dragon took up based on the shirtless well-toned chest that he got to see, so Nico could assume he had always been male, and the sight also held his gaze, though the surrealism was fading ever-so-slightly.

Nico narrowed his eyes at the beast when he realized that the blond was nearing him with bare feet sliding almost silently on the sea of treasure, and he tried not to stare too openly at the way the red-brown fabric of his trousers held his legs appealingly. He made up for the blush blossoming in his cheeks in his glare.

The dragon-turned-human looked down at Nico's fallen blade with hints of amusement in his blue eyes. "You dropped your sword," he said matter-of-factly.

Nico resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards without his consent.

The blond smiled in return, eyes sparkling. "Does this mean you're rethinking killing me?" he wondered, voice hopeful.

"More like I'll drink in your presence before I can think any further to pick it up," Nico replied, finding it a lot easier to talk while the being looked like that. Gods, there had to be something wrong in the air if he would say something like that out loud!

The blond's smile widened. "Then how about you come closer, so you're not near it if you retaliate?"

Nico didn't budge. "What's your name?"

The dragon huffed in amusement. "Gwillym."

"Quite the mouthful," Nico murmured back, his consciousness seemingly lost in those eyes. "Can I call you Will?"

Gwillym nodded his head acceptingly, eyes glittering. "Of course, angel."

Nico melted a bit inside.

Somewhere in his conscience, the black-haired male knew that that wasn't how he normally would have responded. He knew that he was supposed to be mad at Will for something and strike at him with his sword—to lob it off and shove it at that toothless creep Octavian as his prize. But the rest of his mind threw that lingering thought far far away from the present.

After all, why would he want to cut off the head of such a beautiful, kind-hearted man?

With a smile that threw away the rest of Nico's worries, Will held out a hand for Nico, inviting him with his eyes.

The black-haired man took it without a moment's hesitation, and allowed himself to be dragged deeper into the sea of treasure that brought about a dreamlike glow to the immortal's body. It was as though Gwillym—Will, Nico corrected himself subconsciously—was his own light source.

His own sun.