Conor had little room in his brain for anything that wasn't the forester dragon.

Devin's dream had awoken some kind of frustratingly curious spark in his body. The fact that they'd dreamed at the same time, through each other's eyes, couldn't be a coincidence. Also, Conor wasn't feeling too great about becoming dragon food, so he hoped their dreams were only possibilities, not the direct future.

Now, he found himself on the way to a place he'd only glanced at before, since the King was not very open to visitors in his library. He'd even kicked out his own son, which was understandable, Conor supposed, considering Devin had probably ruined a book or a stack of papers.

Maybe two.

Devin met him by the entrance with a brief nod in greeting, which Conor returned. They stepped into the library side by side until Conor stopped. Devin moved around, totally unbothered, seemingly fitting just fine into his environment. Conor gaped at the towering bookshelves. The spines of old leather books were lined up, clear of dust and well taken care of. This was probably to be expected of a castle's library, but it left him breathless all the same.

To think he used to ignore these tranquil places.

"Issue?" Devin called from deeper in the large room. He was standing just in front of a bookshelf with a ladder propped up against it, hand on a large red book.

"No," Conor responded breathily. He began to walk forward into the reds and browns of the library. "You take this all for granted."

"Do I?" Devin hummed, pulling the red book out as he sent a glance over his shoulder. Conor joined him, trusting that Devin knew the library better than he did. It appeared he did, by the results Conor received. Books about mythical creatures and legends were lined up, an invitation to the two interested boys.

"The Makers of Eura." Devin held up the red book, which proved to be quite large. Conor glimpsed at it.

"Have you read it before?" he asked, getting on his tippy toes as he tried to read the titles on the books overhead.

"Not the whole thing," Devin responded, beginning to walk away to the desk beneath the window nearby. Conor knew that it must have been where the King would sit down and do his kingly things, but now it just seemed like a place where Conor could study.

"Conor," Devin called.

"What?" Conor said back, snatching a book by the spine. It read Dragon Sightings over the Years.

"Where did you even learn how to read?"

Conor snorted. "When you have freedom and free time, you actually end up doing many things, Devin. I asked someone."

Devin was quiet, and then Conor heard a faint chuckle.

The two went on for a while, taking books to and from the shelves to huddle over them, scribbling down notes and arguing about certain topics, which they almost always ended with an abrupt comment.

"Did you know," Devin had said after a while of silence, "that depending on the size and power of the forester dragon, some turned into mountains?"

"No," Conor had replied in exasperation, "thank you for the useless fact."

"It might not be useless," Devin mumbled pitifully.

Then, they continued until the evening was threateningly close, the sun sinking lower into the horizon. It wasn't quite golden hour yet, but it would be soon enough.

"We should go," Devin announced suddenly, snapping a book shut. He brought his papers together into one large stack, dropping them against the desk a few times to even it out. It wasn't exactly a suggestion.

Conor blinked at him. "You seem eager," he mused. He watched as Devin stretched, arching his back. He thought he was just going to ignore him, but soon, the other replied.

"Eager, yes. Also a little... anxious," he said. Conor couldn't actually form an image of Devin being anxious, but if it came out of his mouth so insecurely, then it was probably true. "Not to mention, my father will most likely be returning soon. Let's not forget my banishment." With that, Devin winked, dashing off with his notes.

"Hey!" Conor yelped. "Can you not wait even five seconds for me?"

A distant cackle was his only response.

Conor stared at the lights down below, twinkling and flickering despite the late hour. Throughout the festival, Trunswick did not sleep. Only in the late hours of night did they finally settle at taverns and on the sides of the roads.

He couldn't remember a time where he'd had free time inside the Trunswick Castle. Enough time to stand on a balcony and watch the night unfold, at least. It was actually pleasant. The air was brisk, but not enough to make him want to go back inside. There was a very gentle breeze coming from the east, tussling his hair. He felt nostalgic for something he'd never had.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" came a soft voice from behind him. Conor didn't need to turn around to know it was Dawson. The younger boy had a much more soothing voice than the rest of his family, and a calm feeling seemed to follow him wherever he went. Conor felt his shoulders fall as the muscles loosened.

"Yeah," he responded. There was scuffling of boots on the balcony, then Dawson was beside him, eyes focused on the town below. The lights Conor had been so fascinated by before were now reflected in his tired eyes.

"I thought our last chat was too short," Dawson murmured, "and suddenly I feel like something's about to happen, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity for another one. You know?"

Conor felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He'd done so much talking and planning with Devin, but had not once told Dawson what either of them were doing. He was about to travel the country with Devin, and his younger brother didn't even know why. He'd held his tongue for this long, but he wasn't sure if he should continue.

"You're right." Conor offered him a weak smile. "You've always been."

"I wouldn't say always."

"Mostly."

And then he told Dawson everything. He spilled every last detail until he was content and Dawson was wide eyed. He told him about the reoccurring dreams. He told him about the dragon. He told him about the notes they gathered in the castle's library. He told him about the fire.

Dawson listened to it all, nodding along. When Conor was finally out of breath and energy, he let him catch it. "Take care of Devin, will you?" he said after a long moment.

"I thought Devin could fend for himself," Conor snorted. He seemed incredibly confident about it.

"He can," Dawson agreed, nodding, "but he gets ahead of himself and ends up tiring every last bone out."

Conor returned the nod after a brief few seconds. "I guess I'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen." He gave him a warm, tired smile.

Dawson grinned back, then, without warning, threw his arms around Conor's neck, resting his chin on his shoulder as they embraced. "Don't die," he whispered, "I'd miss you."

Conor's heart warmed at his words.

"I'll try not to."