A/N: I was rereading Gwillym and I was struck with the urge to write this. So enjoy!

~ΨΩΨ~

Reverse Prologue: Hunted

Gwillym son of Apollus was one of the strongest demigod dragons known by the gods. He had aided in the victory of the war against mankind, dragons, and demigods a millennia ago. He was considered a Hero of Olympia. He was an honorary member of the elder's counsel in Faerok. There was nothing he had not done for the sake of his friends and the gods, and there was little he had not accomplished during his lifetime.

But by the gods was he bored.

Gwillym sighed, stirring the coins and gemstones around his muzzle. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position on his massive nest of treasure. It was no use. There would be no sleeping that night.

With a slight grumble, the dragon closed his eyes and tried to will himself asleep. Maybe if he stayed still enough, for long enough…

No. It was no use. His mind was moving too fast for sleep.

He had been just fine that morning. Feeding the animals, watering the herbs, and checking the magic surrounding Gwillym's territory had been just as welcome and quiet as ever. There wasn't one moment he regretted leaving Faerok to stake up a peaceful life in the middle of nowhere. It was better than constant noise. And it was far better than the constant war planning.

Gwillym shuddered just thinking about it.

Even then, it was getting too quiet. Even with the current project of tracking down a rogue wyvern to save the livestock trapped by locals, there was hardly enough going on to qualify as living.

Gwillym shifted his wings and buried them the warm gold coins beneath him. What could he do, though? He had his animals to care for, and not to mention his territory. What else could he do to liven his routine up?

Perhaps he should go flying. The people of Delvwin didn't always care much for him heading over town, but perhaps he could forge through some unknown path until morning?

The dragon scoffed at his own train of thought. Even the idea was impossible. He'd travelled far and wide around his territory already, stretching in each direction until he had no choice but to turn back. There was nowhere left for him to explore.

There was nothing left for him to do.

So now, tired and aggravated, Gwillym just resigned himself to a sleepless night.

His mind was not ready to forget. It showed the fantasies of travelling, stretching his wings and flying across the landscape. Walking and flying for hours on end, stopping only to eat and rest. Gwillym remembered doing that sort of thing before, but that had been back during his youth. It had been millennia since he'd last even dreamed of it.

But there was no way that he was going to be able to travel without losing his grip on his territory and everything in it. The magic would only last so long. So if not some grand odyssey…then what?

As though the gods had heard his thoughts, a new smell caught the dragon's attention.

Human.

Gwillym lifted his nose and inhaled the scent. Metal. Sweat. Dirt. Fur. Testosterone.

A male knight with his hound, was it?

Still, he was bored. What fun was a simple man who thought he could kill him? But…his defensive magic had always created hilarious scenes while the knights went mad. Perhaps that's what he'd do. It would only last for a couple of minutes before unconsciousness fell, but Gwillym decided to take what he was given. A couple minutes of amusement was much better than none at all.

So Gwillym softly recited the spell and let it cast a glow across the room. Then, he switched to the local human language to communicate: "I know you're there." A canine-like yelp came from the tunnel, the dragon's only reply. So he continued. "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."

The dragon rested his head back down on his treasure nest as a figure seemed to filter into existence from the very shadows.

The supposed knight did not look very knightly in his ragged clothing and lack of armor, but he made up for it by his dignified stance and his raised sword. There was a sliver of fear in the air when the man set eyes on Gwillym, but otherwise there was no change. No proof that the dragon's magic had done anything at all.

Confusion brought Gwillym into a more upright position, eyeing the knight below.

The scent of the man was too human to think he had somehow broken the spell. The only other option was that the knight was somehow not there with ill intent. Or at least…not to kill the dragon. Perhaps his primary goal was the hoard?

Gwillym and the knight stared at each other for another moment before the dragon forced himself to speak. "You have found my home."

The knight still didn't reply or break out into mad song and dance, so the dragon tilted his head to one side and continued. "Are you here to slay me? 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."

Just saying the words brought a twist in his gut, but it was only faint. The feeling would later surprise Gwillym, as at the moment he was too enthralled with the curious human to worry about the terrible prospect of sharing his hoard.

The man seemed just as surprised as he was. "D-Dragon treasure is bad l-luck."

Ah. So the shock was enough to gift a response. Too bad then, for Gwillym, that it answered none of the questions whirling around in his head. In fact, it sent him spiraling even further from understanding.

"Not when given willingly," Gwillym told the man, but the response seemed distant as he scrambled for a way to explain what was going on. Did the gods take away his magic or something? Was that what this was? Punishment for hiding away? "I take it, then, you're here to try and slay me."

The knight tensed up the slightest bit, shown only in the tendons of his neck. He did not speak. He only eyed the dragon with dark eyes concealed with dark hair. His silence irritated Gwillym. Why are you here, little human?

"Will you not answer?" the dragon murmured instead.

The man shivered, but that was all.

Gwillym brought his head closer to scrutinize the knight. Was that a response to the magic, or was it only a reaction to his words? Interest peeking through the folds of his confusion, he leaned his head slightly closer and sniffed at the man. There was no more fear. "Tell me your name."

That seemed to draw the knight out of his thoughts. "Wh-Why should I tell you that?"

Gwillym fought down a chuckle. The human's voice was the only thing still showing his emotions, and only that was in the slightest warble of speech. What other mysteries were hidden in that tiny body? "Because the victim has a right to know the name of his killer."

The man lowered his sword. "N-Nico. Nico di Angelo."

He didn't deny being the killer, Gwillym noted. And if he was correct, the knight's lowered sword was a very, very small reaction to the magic. If it was at all.

It was only when the sword fell from the man's limp grip did Gwillym receive an answer he was hoping for. The magic was working. It just didn't seem to be working very fast or very strongly.

The knight, Nico di Angelo, held his gaze on the dragon before him as though he were merely talking to some acquaintance. There was no hint of nervousness in his body. It seemed he was so well-equipped with control that even Gwillym's magic did nothing to alter it.

Gwillym thought on the man's name. Nico…Nico… The name was foreign, and the man had an accent that spoke of his origin over the sea. The dragon was old enough to recognize it, and he told the man as such by calling him an angel. And that was his name: Nico the Angel. (It was fully translated to Victor of Angels, but that didn't serve as a very cute name in the dragon's opinion.)

Nico's body tensed a little and shivered, most likely again because of the magic in the air. But there was so much poise in his body and confidence in his eyes that Gwillym couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity in his chest.

A little human that broke his spell. Interesting.

Before he knew it, Gwillym had shrunk to his human persona and was walking up to the man. Nico narrowed his eyes slightly at the change, but he did not back away as Gwillym looked him up and down from a closer range. Ragged clothes became well-worn. Unblemished olive skin became riddled with pale scars from past battles. Dark hair and eyes became a healthy sheen of black, rather than the vague dark grey it had been from a distance.

At this vantage point Gwillym could also take note of the man's features. He was smaller than the average human, but that didn't mean much against the muscle covering what the dragon could see of the man's body. He would be able to hold himself against most humans, perhaps. If he knew how to fight.

He might have been attractive. He had a pleasant face at least to the dragon, but it wasn't like he was the best one to judge. He was better off keeping his mouth shut on the entire subject.

Gwillym drew his eyes down to the abandoned blade at Nico's feet. "You dropped your sword," he noted aloud. Did he even notice? He didn't seem to be aware of anything but the dragon.

Nico's mouth gave the slightest hint at a crooked smile, which brightened his face considerably. It made him seem much more approachable, and it definitely did something wonderful to his already-pleasant features. Still…he was no expert.

The dragon matched the smile with one of his own. "Does this mean you're rethinking killing me?" he teased. Despite his attempt at lightness, he couldn't help the string of hope that slid into his words. Perhaps this meant he could talk more to the man—to ask him why his magic wasn't having an effect.

"More like I'll drink in your presence before I can think any further to pick it up," came Nico's immediate reply.

Gwillym's smile was less forced. Drink in his presence, huh? "Then how about you come closer, so you're not near it if you retaliate?"

But Nico didn't move from that spot. "What's your name?" he said instead.

The dragon puffed a laugh at the forced evasion. "Gwillym."

"Quite the mouthful," Nico mused. "Can I call you Will?"

Will? Did that mean he would talk to him? At the prospect, Gwillym nodded eagerly and held out a hand to gesture Nico to follow. "Of course, Angel."

Anything to know you better.

Almost as though unconsciously, Nico reached out and took the hand Gwillym was holding out.

Even though he was surprised, the dragon didn't hesitate to take advantage of the moment to draw the knight away from his discarded weapon. He led him deeper into the cave so the magic might wear off, and Nico wouldn't be able to angrily try to kill him in response.

But who knows? Perhaps the magic hadn't worked at all, and everything Nico was doing as completely out of his own will. Or…maybe not. Nico had yanked his hand out of Gwillym's grip the moment they stepped out of the treasure room. The dragon's questioning gaze brought about a rather vibrant rosy color in the man's cheeks. More expression than the dragon had ever seen during the entire time they spoke in the other room.

Gwillym found he liked it.

And despite all of the puzzlements of the day, one thing was for certain: Gwillym wasn't bored anymore.

And that in itself was an exciting feeling.

~ΨΩΨ~

I really need to get back to writing daily. So that might just be enough to bring up another Solangelo fic in the future. Who knows?