Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Decided to post this here so justanothersinger doesn't always have to log in to see what's happening with this story. Hopefully this makes it easier for you?

Also, to everyone else who stumbles across this fic, thank you ahead of time to everyone who wants to bother themselves with reading this story. I have no idea how or why you made the choice to read this fic in particular, but I'm glad that you decided to spend some time here. Hopefully you consider it well spent by the end of the chapter.

Fair warning: This fic is unbeta'd and will most likely suck. You have been warned!

Prologue

Even though he hadn't been here—wherever here was—for very long, the hatchling knew that today was going to be different from the previous days. Usually things were a calm, steady routine, but today things seemed hectic, wild. The scientists—he knew they were called that, had heard other people refer to them as such repeatedly over the past few days,—fluttered nervously from place to place, snappy, worried, concerned. They bumped into each other and bickered, some shoved back, but the on-lookers intervened before fights could break out, and they all returned to their work, as tense as before.

If they gathered into groups in a useless attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy in their disrupted routine, the hatchling heard three words repeated over and over again: "Chief of Staff" they whispered darkly among themselves. The way they said it, with glaring eyes and low, angry voices, with wide eyes and trembling bodies and fearful whispers, made shivers run down the new-hatched dragon's mind.

"Shh," their coworkers would always whisper back, warningly, whenever the conversations turned towards less than respectful talk. "He has spies everywhere! If he hears us talking like this…"

They trailed off, unwilling to say anything more, but the hatchling had heard similar conversations before, even if he didn't understand what they meant. Budget cuts to their projects, salaries slashed, individuals framed for treason or fired with their reputations irreparably tarnished with the word "treason." Maybe, one scientist had suggested, bitterly, even execution was a possibility when speaking of a monster like the Chief of Staff. That had been the last day the hatching had seen that particular man, and his coworkers had seemed much more subdued than before following his disappearance.

And the hatchling wondered, but was too afraid to think of the possible consequences of those carelessly uttered, angry words.

Execution… a voice deep inside fearfully whispered, a reminder, and the hatchling clamped his ears against his head in a vain attempt to drown it out.

Shivers tingled down the little dragon's spine, and he looked up in time to see one of the scientists in charge of caring for him approaching with fresh food and water. The hatchling appreciated the fresh water, but the food didn't taste right, never tasted right. It was too bland, too mushy, and it just didn't feel right in the young hatchling's mouth. Maybe that was why the newborn dragon found itself losing weight after a few days of barely eating anything; even his fluffy winter coat couldn't hide the faint outline of his ribs showing. He preferred the rich taste of regurgitated, fresh-killed meat, not whatever it was that the people were feeding him.

His ears flattened against his head as the man released the lock on the cage and placed new bowls of food and water inside, and the hatchling scrambled away from the atrocious foodstuff, bristling as if it were a living thing out to attack him. The old bowls were taken out, the water bowl nearly empty with day-old water and the food bowl still mostly full, and his cage was closed again.

Not feeling particularly hungry or thirsty, the hatchling sat back and watched the dreary scene before him from within the safety of his cage, his long, silky ears pressed flat against his head. As the minutes became hours, the hatchling could feel it. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, a trembling in his chest.

He had a feeling things were about to change for the worse, very soon.

Our kind has a deep sense of danger, his mother had whispered in his ear one cold, winter night, weeks before he'd been captured. If you have a bad feeling, listen to it. Then she'd tucked him under her chin and curled her large, warm wings around the both of them, the soft, thick feathers acting as a buffer to keep away the cold. If only he were with her now, the hatchling yearned, to catch the scent of lavender and dusty wood and home, what he wouldn't give for the feeling of safety and comfort of his mother to be returned. But she was no longer with him anymore… No more, the hatchling reflected, head dropping down towards the ground.

"Welcome, Chief of Staff," a random voice said, loud and clear, and after hours of quiet, near-silent conversations whispered amongst themselves, the hatching's long, silky ears twitched in curiosity at hearing someone speaking in something other than a mutter or whisper. Lifting his head, he looked in the direction of the voice. The scientists were lined up in two rows, one on either side of the door and saluting respectfully as if a group of people were to be escorted inside, but there was only one person standing at the end of the twin lines of people.

Only one... Were they all saluting this single person?

There was no response from the person, and he was too far away for the hatchling to see clearly. But when the person set a foot across the threshold, the hatchling could feel a cold sensation slowly start to fill the room around him. It was as if the human's very presence was enough to chill the air around them. And with each step bringing the human closer to the hatchling, the colder things seemed to get. The sound of the person's footsteps were loud to the hatchling's ears, and he pressed his ears flat in an attempt to drown them out, watching the human approach his cage with a scientist breaking rank to trail after him with a clipboard. The hatchling could only assume that this person wandering closer and closer to his cage was the Chief of Staff. The one the scientists had been so fearful about.

When the Chief of Staff was close enough for the baby dragon to see clearly, the human was obviously a male, and the hatchling's first thought about the man was that he was like winter: cold and distant. His hair was the color of snow and his dark purple eyes as bleak as a snow-covered clearing. The man didn't look welcoming or friendly or very happy. The baby dragon stumbled away from the window-door of his cage to try and get further away from the man's presence when he finally came to a stop before his cage.

"This is the fyuulong hatchling that we reported was captured in the wild," the scientist standing behind the Chief of Staff piped, but the white-haired man didn't appear interested in the man's words, staring apathetically down at the hatchling before him.

"Is that so?" the man questioned, and his cold voice sent shivers from the tips of the little dragon's long ears to the end of his tufted tail. It was like hail slamming down from the sky and the frigid chill of winter winds.

"Yes sir, Ayanami-sama," the man affirmed, and the hatchling felt that sinking feeling in his chest again as, staring with wide eyes up into the Chief of Staff's emotionless purple eyes, he saw something began to flicker in that frigid gaze.

Ayanami-sama… the scientist had called the Chief of Staff Ayanami-sama… Was that his name?

"Open the cage," the Chief of Staff ordered, eyes still locked on the scrap of bones and fur otherwise known as the hatchling. "I want to examine him myself."

The baby Fyuulong's head snapped up to stare at the man with wide eyes, his ears flattening against his head as he stumbled back a step, wings crushing themselves close to his sides, and he noticed one of the Chief of Staff's fingers twitch at his sides. There was something in that near-emotionless purple stare, almost as if those hands, rather than hurting, wanted to do the opposite. But the hatchling shook his head, his entire body following suit until the force of his shaking caused him to tumble onto his side with a small squeak of surprise. He didn't believe, not for a second, that the Chief of Staff-Ayanami?-could be kind, let alone to himself. He quickly scrambled to his paws again, turning to look at the scientist beside the Chief of Staff just in time to hear the white-coated man speak.

"Y-yes sir," the scientist agreed, with some hesitance. He set his clipboard and pen aside atop some machine and began walking forward. "Please, allow me a few minutes to get him out for you."

Relief almost made the young hatchling collapse to the ground. That unknown man wouldn't be touching him, holding him, hurting him. It would be one of the scientists instead, and not just any scientist. A scientist he trusted-

"I ordered you to open the cage," the Chief of Staff said, and his voice was Northern ice, ice that could numb and cause frostbite with a single touch, and the hatchling felt his tiny heart start to race, his chest fluttering wildly with shallow yet rapid breaths at the frightening tone.

"Sir," the scientist said, and there was a hint of protest in his voice, and the hatchling thought that he might have been trying to protect him from the higher-ranked man. The scientist glanced towards the young dragon under his care, and the hatchling met his gaze with something eerily similar to desperation in his green-eyed gaze.

Both flinched, however, when the Chief of Staff spoke next. "Open the cage and step away," he ordered, and there was something dark lurking beneath that dangerous tone, as he locked eyes, moving his gaze away from the first time to look at the scientist across from him, "before you lose more than your occupation."

Execution… the hatchling remembered, and a scream froze itself in his throat, locking his limbs with terror. He didn't know what the word meant, not yet, but he knew it was something dangerous, harmful.

Silence stretched out the seconds between the three of them. The scientist's coworkers were watching the exchange with wide eyes, silent. The hatchling wondered what they were feeling, or if they were remembering coworkers before them, and the mysterious circumstances that resulted in their misfortunes. The baby dragon scampered forwards, pressing his paws against the reinforced glass of his cage door and staring wide-eyed up at the scientist who was watching him with sympathetic eyes before turning away, eyes on the floor. When the man spoke next, he sounded utterly defeated.

"Yes sir," he agreed, and trudged forward to do as he had been ordered, nimble fingers working on the lock with slow, careful precision. But not slowly enough for the hatchling's liking. As soon as the lock clicked open, the scientist retreated with his head bowed, standing in the shadows with his back to the corner. And as soon as the scientist had stepped away, the hatchling scrambled away from the transparent door as quickly as his paws would carry him, wanting to keep far away from the ruthless Chief of Staff as he could get.

Except Ayanami didn't seem to share his desire to keep distance between them. Stepping closer to the hatchling's cage. He peered down at the tiny scrap of fur and feathery wings and bones. The hatchling shrank back and away from his scrutinizing stare.

"Scrawny," he observed, critically, and the hatchling's ears twitched as the man glanced at his food and water bowls.

"N-" the hatchling's throat convulsed, tongue tripping on the foreign sound trying to make it out of his throat.

At the sound, the Chief of Staff glanced back at him, something flickering in his cold stare. Curiosity? Either way, the hatchling didn't have long to think about it before he noticed a white-gloved hand reaching for him-Ayanami's hand-the ruthless Chief of Staff's...

The closer Ayanami's hand came, the more uneasy the hatchling felt. He fluttered his tiny wings, and his ears flattened against his head, backing away from the approaching menace until he felt his back carriage bump against the back of the cage, trapping himself. Stuck, the hatchling could only watch as Ayanami's hand came closer and closer. Those slender, gloved fingers were like long, thin spider legs, and the closer the man's hand came, the cleared the hatchling could catch the cold scent of winter that clung to the white satin of the gloves covering man's hands.

The hatchling chanced a desperate, terrified glance towards the cage opening, tiny wings fluttering worriedly. Maybe he'd be able to escape, maybe, if he risked it. But then what? There were scientists everywhere, and even if he did run, he probably wouldn't make it past the door outside this room. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze up to stare at Ayanami, and immediately wished he hadn't as he locked eyes with the Chief of Staff.

There was something about his eyes that made the hatchling uneasy-like a snake, no, a viper, ready to lash out and grab its prey in its venomous teeth, letting the fatal poison sink in before waiting for its victim to die. The North didn't have snakes, the hatchling Fyuulong remembered. It was too cold, their blood required warmth and sun, his mother once said, her warm, furry muzzle nuzzling against his long, silky ears. They couldn't survive in the unrelenting cold of the North.

When the white-gloved hands were almost close enough to brush against the tips of the hatchling's fur, something snapped in the tortured young creature's mind. His body shifted, crouching low, and he lunged for the approaching fingers, mouth gaping open and tiny milk teeth bared, ready to bite. A few seconds later, the hatchling heard the click of his tiny teeth snapping together-empty. Well, he would have bitten the Chief of Staff, if the man hadn't twitched his hand out of the way to avoid his teeth. Unable to brace himself, the hatchling crashed to the floor of his cage, struggling to pick himself up before the man could touch him.

"I see you have some fighting spirit," he heard the man's voice commenting somewhere above him, and then a pair of firm fingers pinched closed around the hatchling's vulnerable scruff, causing the baby dragon to go instinctively limp, before lifting him out of the cage towards the Chief of Staff's cold, scrutinizing gaze.

"Even so," the white-haired man continued, in a much more ruthless voice, looking down his nose at the terrified hatchling dangling from between his fingers. "It's bad manners for a pet like you to try and bite his master."

Pet? The hatchling wondered, long ears flattening against his head in a mixture of fearful confusion. Master?

He didn't know what the words meant, only that they left his insides cold and his paws numb whenever he thought of them, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the man that held him firmly with his fingers by the scruff. The hatchling wriggled, attempting to dislodge the grip, but achieved nothing. The fingers were like iron against the loose skin of his neck. Those light purple eyes continued to examine him: the visible ribs, the scrawny body that seemed too small for his age, the green of his eyes and the ebony darkness of his fur. Heart pounding, the hatchling thought that the chief of staff had eyes that were just so cold as the man gazed down at him. His stare seemed to cut past the physical exterior and go beneath the hatchling's flesh, as if he could see the little creature's heart beating inside his chest. Shuddering at the thought, the baby dragon curled tighter into himself, hoping to somehow hide from the inescapable stare, but it was no use.

He looks deep, the voice warned, and the tiny dragon felt his fur puff out in alarm.

Ayanami noticed.

"Are you worried?" his deep, quiet voice seemed to filter into the hatchling's ears from all angles, and the dragon flattened his ears against his head in an attempt to drown it out, staring up at the Chief of Staff with wide, terrified green eyes.

The hatchling saw something flicker in the man's eyes as he noticed the terror in the hatchling's expressive eyes. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them and depositing the hatching back into his cage, shutting the door before he had a chance to escape.

"He'll do," Ayanami informed the scientists, turning away from the hatchling and observing the people in the white lab coats. The hatchling, watching them over the man's shoulder, noticed that none of them looked particularly pleased their superior's decision. One opened his mouth as if to say something until another scientist reached up a hand and pinched him on the arm, reminding him to stay silent. Shuddering at their meek response to Ayanami's decision, the hatchling wondered just how dangerous the man was.

Unable to keep from watching the 'threat' that was the Chief of Staff, the hatchling looked on as he had approached one of the scientists that the hatchling knew as his main caretaker. Ayanami was asking questions, the hatchling knew that much from what he could hear, if he strained hard enough to listen through the breathing holes in the transparent door. Things that the hatchling didn't really see had any importance to the cold man. At least, not until he realized that Ayanami would be taking him away from the scientists, who were relinquishing the hatchling into the Chief of Staff's care.

"You'll be coming with me," Ayanami says, once more opening the cage and grabbing the cowering hatchling by the scruff to gently put him in the new carrier that he would be used to transport him to his new home. Staring up at his 'master' from behind the metallic bars of the carrier's door, he noticed something in the Chief of Staff's gaze soften for just a heartbeat. It made the man look-warmer, the hatchling decided was the right word,-more humane. It was such an interesting change that the hatchling stretched his nose up to press them against the bars, wanting to be closer to this warm thing that came from the formerly cold human.

Seconds later, Ayanami's gaze was back to its expressionless mask as he gazed down at the hatchling in the carrier.

"Your name will be Tiashe from now on." he decided, quietly.

But, the baby dragon thought, staring up at the man with wide green eyes, his muzzle pressed faintly against the metallic bars, I already have a name. My name is-

'Tiashe' didn't get to finish the thought. Ayanami was already turning and walking away without a glance back at the hatchling as he ordered the scientists to do things the newly-named Tiashe couldn't make sense of.

If only he were old enough to communicate with these strange creatures, the hatchling mourned. If only he were old enough to have access his kind's telepathic abilities to tell the Chief of Staff that one, important fact.

But would the man even care? He wondered, and despite himself, the newly named Tiashe couldn't help but feel the tremors of fear wracking his body. The man had just switched from cold to warm and back to cold within seconds of each other, less than a few minutes, and he ordered the scientists like dogs. Would he really care if 'Tiashe' wasn't really his name? Or would he dismiss the fact?

There was something scrambling around in his guts, that was making his heart pound in his chest, and 'Tiashe' realized that it was fear. For the second time in his short life, he was leaving a place he'd come to call home, no matter how uncomfortable or lonely it was. And he was going to be living with a human he barely knew, but was terrified of all the same.

Turning, Tiashe crawled to back corner of the carrier and lay down within it, curling into a shivering ball and wishing for sleep that he knew wouldn't come.