Conor was sick of running, to be completely honest.

But he needed to find Dawson and he needed to find him fast. In his head, he had mapped out all possible places the younger boy would spend his time in, featuring his room, the library, and the Grand Parlor. His best guess was the Grand Parlor, where Dawson could commonly be found lounging on the plush couch, nursing a fresh tea with a book in his lap.

Conor started off at a jog, rushing through the gates to the castle. There were no guards, for most had heard the order to evacuate, or had seen the two dragons in the sky. The last time Conor had looked, he thought he'd seen Devin rushing everyone out of the square. It looked a little like herding sheep, he thought with a ghost of a smile.

He shoved that thought aside, pushing ahead.

He found Dawson asleep.

Asleep.

"The peacefulness of an unproblematic royal," Conor muttered. He walked closer to the couch in which Dawson had dozed off on, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, Dawson," he said gently.

The younger boy's eyes opened a crack. "Sorry," Dawson mumbled, rubbing at his eyes, "got sleepy."

Conor smiled. "It's alright, Dawson. Open your eyes a little wider. I need you to do something for me."

Dawson squinted at him. Then, his eyes brightened and a familiar goofy smile appeared on his face. "Conor!" he exclaimed, diving forward to embrace him. "It's so good to see you're safe."

Conor hugged him back briefly. "Let's celebrate later, okay?" he suggested. "There's two angry dragons practically at your doorstep and we need to get you and your family out as soon as possible."

"Dragons!" Dawson yelped. "I thought they were all dead." He shook his head in wonder, rising clumsily to his feet in the way one would crawl out of bed in the morning.

"Me too," Conor admitted, "but Devin was onto something all along."

Dawson grabbed a case off the nearby table--reading glasses, Conor guessed--and the boy was off quickly. Conor trotted after him, allowing him to lead. Dawson knew his family's habits better than Conor. It was probably best for him to direct their small party.

"By the way," Conor added, "Devin said your family is bound to try and grab things before they leave. Don't let them do that." Dawson let out what sounded like a scoff, startling Conor.

"I think if our home was burning to the ground, they'd still try to grab every last jewel with flames at their feet," he said grumpily. Conor peered at him in wonder.

It was another two minutes before they found Daphne, her mother on her heels.

"Dawson," Daphne greeted her brother warmly. Then, noticing Conor, she performed a quick curtsy. "Conor."

Conor was not aware she even knew his name. He bowed to the ladies. It was not a very impressive one.

"I know it's hard to listen to a lowly adventurer," he began, eyes flicking from Daphne and the Queen, who was glaring daggers at him, "but if you look out your windows right now, you'll see one hell of a dragon, and you need to get out of here right now."

It took all too long to convince the king to join them, but he begrudgingly agreed. Conor's heart was thudding in his chest as he led the way, Dawson close on his heels, as they wove through the city streets towards the nearest gate.

"My shoes keep falling off!" Daphne shrieked.

"Take them off!" Dawson yelled back.

"That hurts though!"

"Save your breath," he heard their father bark.

Conor silently thanked him, perhaps for the first time. Overhead, he heard the eerie flap of giant wings he had grown somewhat used to, and to his annoyance, the clink and clack of the jewels that the Trunswicks were already wearing... which happened to be a lot. Maybe that was what all royalty and nobility did to show off their wealth.

In all, it set the mood; something dangerous was happening, and Conor could not ignore the broken melody of wings and jewels.

They found Devin with the townsfolk by the woods. They were a massive blob, but Devin was easy to pick out, sitting and staring at them as they approached, perched on a tree stump.

"Well, you got them out in one piece," he said as Conor approached.

"Mighty difficult task," Conor muttered.

"Watch it," the King snapped.

"Don't be so cold, Father," Devin said sweetly, "he's a dear friend of mine."

Eric Trunswick, aware that Devin Trunswick, his eldest and most annoying son, had almost no friends, raised a brow. Conor began to understand why the expression ran in the family.

A sudden, sharp howl-like noise split the air. A blood-red dragon circled the Forester, teeth bared.

"A Pyradragon," Devin said softly to himself. Conor glanced at him. "It would be beautiful if it wasn't trying to burn down my city," he added.

Conor found himself softening at his words. Devin found even the most horrifying creatures remarkable in some way. He loved them more than anyone, even if most would curse their names.

Suddenly, the Pyradragon lunged at Lynvok, mouth parted and sharp teeth gleaming. The Forester shrieked in fury and dove under it, curving upwards and twisting around just in time to catch the claws of the Pyradragon in its own. Smoke rose in the air and Lynvok made a noise of pain at the harsh burn. Conor recalled what Devin had said perhaps a month prior about Pyradragons having scales so hot they could scald whomever touched them immediately. It appeared that also applied to other dragons.

The echo of startled voices spread across the landscape, practically drowning out every other noise. Conor's chest tightened with anxiety. One wrong movement on either of the dragons' parts and the entire city could go up in flames. He felt an arm brush his, and looked to his side to see Dawson standing nervously beside him. Beyond the two of them, the Queen had hugged her daughter close to her, and Daphne was staring at the dragons with a mix of fear and awe. Devin hadn't moved from his stump, but his father now stood at his side, eyes narrowed at the scene before them.

"We might have a mess to clean up after," he heard Dawson whisper.

Lynvok had landed a clean slice over the thick skin of the Pyradragon's nose. The other dragon shrieked in fury, slashing at the Forester, who cleanly dodged the assault.

"We most certainly will," Conor responded softly.