Child of Sea & Scale
A fic for the @minecraftdiariesbigbang
Art done by @lauranceofmeteli (which you can find here!)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The pirates of the region had long since learned to not come near his section of the forest. Undergrowth had no pity for humans, let alone mercy for thieves. That fact made it very odd when during his nightly hunt, he discovered two humans getting quite close to his forest’s edge. Even if they were unaware it was a wyvern who held the domain, most knew there was a beast that could kill them and were smart enough not to risk it.
In an attempt to drive the pirates away and rebuild the hoard his fellow wyverns had robbed him of, he’d started taking whatever they left there. Gold, stolen jewelry, whatever was left for him. There wasn’t much point in stealing this particular deposit, the idiot humans weren’t carrying anything worth much from the looks of it. Just a basket with a bundle of cloth in it, they wouldn’t go too far into the forest to hide such a thing. Stolen goods would be repossessed by the guards, but they were liable to ignore anything they thought was trash.
He took a deep breath and roared from the shadows, not bothering to show himself. One of the few good things about humans was that they knew to run at the sound of danger, unlike some animals. Strangely enough, the taller one had hesitated to leave what she was cradling but eventually conceded to abandon it so she could flee alongside her partner. She was careful to place it instead of dropping it, which told him that the worthless exterior was likely hiding something better. A clever trick, for once. That was a surprise.
He approached the basket after making certain they weren’t trying to come back, hearing what sounded like whimpering coming from under the cloth. Were they throwing away the ship mutt? The forest was cold, it would likely freeze to death before it found shelter but they could’ve had the decency to unwrap it, at least give it a bit of a fighting chance if they wouldn’t leave it at the village.
He nosed at the blanket, trying to show the creature how to free itself. It smelled like a hatchling did just after breaking out of their egg, strangely enough. No wonder it was having such a hard time getting out, it probably hadn’t started to crawl yet. They couldn’t even let it have its mother for a minute longer? It wasn’t its fault it couldn’t work after just being born, most things couldn’t. How idiotic could humans be? Cruel enough to throw a newborn out in the cold but careful enough to set it down gently. It would’ve kinder of them to just kill it.
He gave up trying to show it after a moment and just used one of his claws to slice the cloth open, revealing a very odd-looking pup. Or well, it was odd-looking until it occurred to him that it was a human baby staring up at him, and not a dreadfully deformed dog.
It didn’t seem scared either! No sooner than it was free, its tiny chubby hands were reaching for his muzzle. It was probably just scared or possibly dumber than its parents, because then it started wailing when he moved out of reach like he was its mother refusing to pick it up. Did it not know she’d just abandoned it? Wyvern pups recognized their sires from scent alone. Surely humans were not so pitiful that their instincts made them think any creature they saw was their parent? He’d heard of babies being convinced other humans were their parents, but nothing like this.
The child would certainly die if left completely alone if this was how it behaved. It needed its body heat regulated, plus it needed to be fed and its mother wasn’t there to nurse it, and apparently it didn’t know predator from kin. Not to mention a less sentient creature would see no issue consuming it. Undergrowth could’ve killed it, or eaten it for that matter (rightfully so, since its parents decided to disturb his hunting grounds), but as despicable as humans were and as much as he hated them, he had some limits. A defenseless child was deserving of some sympathy, especially since its own parents were bad enough to throw it out like the bits of a carcass they couldn’t eat. Don’t harm an unarmed foe, or whatever that silly holier-than-thou axiom human warriors lived by was.
First order of business was that he needed to soothe it, carrying a screeching thing back to his cave wouldn’t be the best move. The predators of the woods were foolish enough to attack him despite not at all posing a threat, and he was far too tired to deal with such a disturbance. He had no idea how humans calmed their young, but he knew well enough how to take care of a fledgling. Shockingly when he leaned close and rumbled, the child stopped crying in an instant, taking a small pause before letting out a tiny garbled growl. It was copying him! He didn’t know it could do that-
By the Six, he needed to get a grip on himself. A human baby mimicking him was nothing to get excited over. He wasn’t keeping it, just sheltering it so he could bring it to the village in the morning. There was a path near the forest that was quite well traveled, someone would find him within the hour at the latest once the sun came up. His cave would be enough to keep it safe for the night, no reason to go rushing into those things’ territory.
The trek back was easy enough once he’d maneuvered the infant onto his back. It insisted on clinging to him, trying to hold onto his wings once he closed them and smushing its cheek into the space between the blades of his shoulders. The basket it had been in was easy to carry, plus once the blanket was situated over the child again it worked well to carry some berries from a bush on the way. That’d suffice for a meal for the time being, he couldn’t leave the tiny human in his den alone to continue his hunt and he most certainly couldn’t bring it with him.
His nest obviously needed to be adjusted. The sticks and roughage didn’t bother him due to the toughness of his scales, but they weren’t fit for such a fragile pup. He did have a large swathe of cloth he’d swiped from a trader who’d gotten lost a few days earlier, it seemed thick enough to cushion the sticks. Plus it was quite soft, so it would keep the child comfortable as it slept. Pulling it over the materials was a bit of a bother as it was catching on every little snag it could, though the annoying sharp bits of the sticks became helpful and held it in place once he finally had it situated.
Though the cave was warm, the cold breeze that swept in reminded him that it lacked the insulation of human houses. Once settled inside the nest, he angled his wings so they’d cover the child. He ran hotter than a human, so hopefully they’d hold enough warmth in to keep it from complaining.
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The plan to leave the baby outside the village did not work. No human walked the path he planned to leave it along. Or, no trustworthy humans. He despised all the rogue thieves that wandered about, they’d just steal the basket and leave the pup if they could. He was stuck with the child until movement resumed, it seemed. He couldn’t go into the village with it and he couldn’t leave it out for any monster to find. The only option was to keep it until he found a suitable spot to put it. He’d briefly entertained the thought of dropping it in front of the Lord’s house, but he’d likely just send it to an orphanage, and that was no better than out in the woods from what he’d seen.
Feeding quickly became an issue. Undergrowth couldn’t exactly produce milk for it and the child couldn’t last more than a few days at best if not fed. Plus, baby wyverns drank prey dissolved by their parents' venom, even if he knew a mother wyvern it wouldn’t help. He supposed if he diluted the melted meat with enough milk the baby might be able to handle it, the venom would break down what the baby couldn’t and the melted food would dilute the venom into being potable. The hardest part would be getting cows’ milk, though that was more of an issue of not having a vessel, and that could be quickly solved by stealing from the tavern. Unlike O’khasis, none of Meteli’s drink was watered down to prevent consumption. Most drunks assumed a golden wyvern strutting about was a hallucination. Quite a lot of work for something he planned to part with as quickly as he could, but it had to be done.
Things went shockingly smoothly, what with the local farm dog being easily subdued with a few deer bones and him scaring a man into sobriety, and on top of that, the baby wasn’t picky. In fact, it kept trying to steal the raw meat as he was tearing it apart. Strange, considering most adults found it disgusting to even touch. Getting something to put over the bottle’s opening would be his next goal, since then the baby couldn’t get the food as…all over himself. He hadn’t moved the bottle from its mouth and somehow he’d gotten it in his hair. By the six, how was such a small child this chaotic?
Well actually if he was to be fair, wyvern fledglings were far worse. They were liable to steal their siblings' meals, bite their parents, hurt themselves trying to break the leftover bones, every bit of issue they could possibly cause they would. At least with the human baby the worst crime it could commit against him was trying to grab his snout, and even then that was, as much as he hated it, more endearing than bothersome. Especially when the little fool tried hugging it. His arms were too tiny to wrap around his head properly, no matter how determined he seemed to do so.
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He ended up abandoning the thought of getting rid of the child within a few weeks. The routine he’d settled into would be troublesome to get rid of, and he was fond of the little monster.
He meant that literally. Human teeth were supposed to be blunt from what he’d seen, not sharp enough to bite through his wing membrane. If the child could produce any more force with its little jaw, he’d look even more ragged than his flock had left him. Luckily, it seemed to prefer the chunks of vegetables and meat he cut up for it to his scales.
He had a few concerns now that it was certain he was keeping it. He knew humans didn’t usually follow wyvern nomenclature, but the baby would need a name and he certainly wasn’t about to pick out something like Henry. It just didn’t fit it- him, he should probably try harder to stop referring to him like a thing if he was going to raise him. He needed a name, but he needed one that would suit him when he got older. None of those silly sounding human ones would do.
There were many plants that could fit him even once he had narrowed it down to a specific letter. L was a good place to start for weeding out poor titles, but there were still quite a few options to choose from. Larkspur, Lavender, Lilac, Lily, Undergrowth could name many plants that started with it. None of them fit right when he looked at the soundly sleeping creature at his side.
He decided on Laurel after his latest hunt. Bay Laurel was used by the locals in their food, and it symbolized triumph. It wasn’t a gaudy or flashy plant, and it was useful. Humans often named their children after their hopes for them- Charity, Faith, Joy. Not as blatant as that method, but still representative of something. What he returned home to was nothing particularly special, but he hoped the boy would be able to do something in his life.
His terribly short life. Terribly short to Undergrowth, at least. Humans only lived for decades, whereas wyverns weren’t considered true adults until they reached a century. A rather depressing thought for such an occasion, but an unavoidable one. The divine can’t interact with the mortal without knowing their place, after all.
He’d make sure it was a good life, at least. He’d make sure nothing stole him away early.
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Undergrowth did not know when humans started talking. He knew they had stages- first sounds, then letters, then parts. He didn’t know when the actual words came about though, so he’d taken to saying one of their names to Laurel whenever he’d return to the den. It was uncomfortable, but with his magic he was capable of human speech. He would give the boy a few words, even if he couldn’t give him all of them.
It was quite an effort on the little one’s part, but it seemed he’d started trying to repeat the words back to him. Certain letters escaped him entirely, with his own name turning into ‘au-al’. R’s were notoriously hard for small children, if he’d heard the one woman from the village correctly.
“Under-growth.” Breaking the words into smaller parts was something else he’d heard a parent doing, so he thought to try it. Perhaps that way, the child would notice the letters he was missing.
“Ungrth!” That caught him off guard. The attempt at his name was close enough that it sounded like what it would be to a human. They tended to piece together words to make new ones, so if someone were to turn his name into one of theirs- considering they didn’t like to title their children after things like shrubbery for Irene knows what reason- it would probably be something like Ungrth.
The adoring trill he gave in response would’ve been humiliating to let out in front of other wyverns, but only made the toddler devolve into a fit of giggles and reach for his snout, babbling his new word over and over. He supposed it would be alright to let him stick with that. It’s not like Laurel could help it anyways- he was still quite small and large words weren’t easy for him to say. It’d probably be awhile before he could manage to say Undergrowth properly, or most words for that matter, so Ungrth would more than suffice. Besides, his name didn’t matter much, only other wyverns knew it and they used it like a curse. At least ‘Ungth’ was given out of affection.
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Laurel was absolutely terrified of thunder. Ungrth supposed such a fear could’ve made sense for the sort of sounds that came with harsher storms, but any bit of rumbling from outside frightened him. It made living in an area where awful storms were more common than light ones quite troublesome. Ungrth couldn’t stay in the den with Laurel at all times, but he also couldn’t risk exposing him to the elements by bringing him outside in the rain or bringing him on a hunt. His only real hope of not overstressing him was to leave before the downpours began and rush back once he finally caught something.
Unfortunately the animals of the area were just as wise to the weather conditions as he was, so many had already fled back to their homes to wait out the storm by the time he went out hunting. Ungrth was gone for far longer than he intended to be as a result, he needed enough food for the both of them for the night and just one rabbit wouldn’t do it between the both of them. He was lucky he could still fly in the rain, navigating the forest in rough conditions while lugging his kills back would’ve drawn the already prolonged venture out even longer.
Ungrth abandoned the prey by the wall once he was inside. climbing into the nest and letting Laurel curl into his side the second he made it into the cave. His venom would keep the meat from spoiling so they didn’t need to eat it right away. It was doubtful that Laurel could keep anything down if he ate in his current state anyways, he was too anxious and meat was still heavy on his stomach. Throwing up would just put even more stress on him and that was the last thing Ungrth wanted to do. Plus it was difficult to clean up without having to move, and he couldn’t be sure Laurel wouldn’t break down if he did.
Seeing the pup afraid was the worst feeling Ungrth could name, as foolish as that sounded. Laurel was a mess of snot and tears, curled up in a ball with his hands over his ears to try and block out the roaring of the skies. He did soothe a bit in his presence but it really wasn’t much of an improvement. He was still scared and still crying, it was just that now he knew no monsters could get to him. He probably still believed there was one outside making all the noise, even if it wasn’t able to get him now. It made Ungrth’s heart ache in a way he hated. If only human children were as logical as fledglings.
His best shot at getting him to stop crying was to interrupt him and give him something else to pay attention to, so he waited until there was a brief pause in Laurel’s whimpers to lean down and clean his face. Laurel let out a watery giggle and pat the top of Ungrth’s head, scrubbing at his face with his free hand to try and wipe off the wyvern spit. He seemed to know it was an attempt to make him feel better
Ungrth chirred and craned his neck further so he could nuzzle his head against Laurel, trying to coax him into settling down for a nap by getting him to cuddle. The storm was slowly getting weaker, so hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about the boy being scared all over again. Even if he was, Ungrth could handle it. He’d handle anything so long as Laurel knew he was safe and cared for by the end of the day.
…
..
.
Okay, maybe humans weren’t so bad after all.
