Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of the forest surrounded him—warm and alive. Birds sang in the wind that stirred Jason’s hair with every step. He had nowhere to go, but staying in his tower didn’t feel right either.

Tall and isolated, the tower stood far from everything. There, he could meditate and restrain his magic—at least enough to grant himself a short walk among the trees.

The immortality his magic had given him had long stopped being a gift. The world kept changing around him while he remained alone, suffocating within cold, shadowed walls. Time moved like a breath around him.

He hated it, but he couldn’t stop it. Magic gave life. Life created more life. And that meant time—time he possessed for eternity while others didn’t.

He had watched too many people die while he stayed behind. Watched memories fade, faces blur, names lose their meaning.

How had his father looked? The man who raised and trained him to become the most powerful of all. And his mother? The woman who gave him affection and pushed him to keep going.

He had grown stronger. He became his parents’ pride. And then they died, following the natural order—two old souls who’d lived good lives.

The same thing happened with everyone he met. Humans lived long lives, yes—but not endless ones. They had limits he no longer shared.

Moving to the forest had seemed logical. The creatures there lived longer. Jason could build a new home without fearing another farewell within a century.

But he hadn’t considered his power. After nearly a thousand years, his magic had grown dense and suffocating. The beings of the forest felt it more sharply than humans—it hurt them, drove them away. They feared him.

So Jason became a recluse, lonelier than ever, hiding in an old tower in the heart of that beautiful landscape.

As an apology, he cared for the forest. He offered it small drops of his magic to make it flourish, and he watched over it, keeping away intruders who came to harm.

There was no safer refuge for magical creatures than his forest.

The White Mage’s Forest, they called him.

The creatures spoke the name with reverence. Humans, with resentment.

Jason found the name amusing, born from a small fawn that had stared at him in wonder at the white streak in his hair—a failed spell that had become his mark.

The flutter of a fairy caught his attention. Such fragile beings rarely came near; their delicate bodies couldn’t endure the weight of his magic.

Jason held his breath, drawing every fragment of power inward, locking it inside himself. He couldn’t sustain it for long; the strain could kill him.

Strong and weak at once.

“Who’s there?” he called, using the force of his voice to make the other reveal himself.

A wingbeat faltered. The fairy trembled; Jason felt it. He had learned to read the reactions of every living thing in the forest, allies and enemies alike.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, lowering his tone. “What do you want from me?”

A glow appeared to his left. Jason turned and saw the small fairy. Its wings fluttered weakly; its hands were outstretched, its gaze resigned.

“I—I'm here to offer myself as a sacrifice,” it said in a flat, practiced voice. “Please, accept this and help my people.”

Jason tightened his grip on the staff. Magic crackled at the tip, making the fairy flinch.
“A sacrifice?” The word left him thick with disgust.

The fairy stepped back and landed awkwardly on the ground. The tiny body hit the earth with a sound that split the forest silence.

“I’m sorry this isn’t worthy. Forgive my appearance and weakness. If you don’t want me, the clan will send something better. I—”

Jason crouched down. The fairy was minuscule; he had to lean close to hear.

“Can you make yourself bigger?”

He knew how cruel fairies could be to one another—proud, arrogant, narcissistic in a body too small for their egos. But this one felt different. Sent like refuse. No fairy would bend like that unless every day of their life had taught them to.

Jason didn’t like fairies. This one looked so broken it stirred a faint pity.

The fairy shook its head slowly. “I’m not strong, sir mage.”

Jason snorted despite himself.

“So formal.” He lifted a hand, palm open. “I’m Jason, little fairy. What’s your name?”

The fairy lifted its face as dust from its magic floated down. Its eyes widened; as Jason’s power pressed gentle and controlled, the body began to grow.

“I’m Tim,” he murmured.

Tiny golden flakes streaked his hair, and the light in his eyes brightened. Pretty eyes, Jason had to admit—blue and sharp as the wings on his back.

“Hello, Tim.” His voice lowered, firmer. “How about we talk about that sacrifice… and what your people need?”

He rose as Tim spoke. “We need your help to—”

“No, not here.” Jason pointed toward the path into the woods. “I have a warmer place in my home.”

Tim blinked slowly, confused, then straightened abruptly.

“Yes… of course.”

The smile on his lips trembled—broken, forced, necessary to please those with more power than him.

Jason felt both disgusted and curious. He hated being treated with such submission, but he couldn’t stop wondering how Tim had been broken enough to use that as a shield.

If they were raising fairies to send them to die, Jason would make sure they learned not to underestimate him.

He wasn’t cruel by nature. But he could be. And he would be, if it protected the helpless.

Jason struck the door with his staff. The panels, of ordinary size, swung open, and he stepped inside.

Tim lay sprawled across the floor, wings fluttering weakly, barely able to hold himself upright.

They had stopped several times on the way so Jason could feed him magic. It worked like an elixir, giving Tim enough strength to keep flying—to keep his human size.

It didn’t change his fragility. It wasn’t just his fae nature—Jason could see the bones pressing beneath his skin. Too thin. His magic barely kept him together.

Jason’s jaw tightened as he imagined the kind of cruelty the fairy must have endured among his own kind.

He walked to the kitchen, wondering what he could offer him to eat. He had to be careful. The magic sustained Tim for now, but real food could overwhelm his body. At that moment, he was more like a wounded, starved creature than anything else.

He lit the stove. The flame sputtered before catching, rising into a small, steady glow. Tim’s gaze followed every movement as Jason reached for a pot and filled it with water.

“Should I shrink to fit in the pot?”

The pot trembled in his hands. Jason tightened his grip before it could slip.
He turned toward the fae—Tim had already shrunk, eyes fixed on the water.

“I’m clean,” Tim said softly. “Though I’m sorry there isn’t more flesh on me.”

Jason set the pot over the fire before it slipped from his grasp. He took a slow breath, forcing his magic to stay sealed within his body. He couldn’t scare him more than he already had.

“I’m making soup,” he said, facing him again. “I don’t eat meat. And especially not fae. Tim—Christ—what do you think I am?”

Tim flinched, just slightly, and Jason’s chest tightened.

“You’re powerful,” he murmured. “Powerful beings usually aren’t… kind.”

Jason closed his eyes and drew in a steady breath. He knew that truth. He’d faced sorcerers and witches drunk on power, desperate to defeat him. None had ever fought clean.

But he wasn’t one of them.

“I know,” he said quietly, opening his eyes. “But I’m not like that.”

He tried to ease the tension with a small smile.

“I’ve got vegetable soup. I’ll make it soft—something easy for you to eat.”

A strangled sound escaped Tim’s throat, heavy and sharp with pain.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice shook. “They told me I was going to die. That I wasn’t good for anything else.” He flew up to Jason’s face, wings shimmering through the air. “You weren’t supposed to be kind!”

The words came out in broken bursts. Tiny drops fell onto Jason’s skin—tears from the fairy’s trembling body.

“If I don’t do this… if you don’t want me, then what am I?” His hands clutched his hair, pulling hard.

Jason’s fists tightened. He fought the urge to stop him. Touching him would only hurt more. Too small for his hands. Too broken to accept help.

“If I don’t have your help—the blessing of the great mage of the forest…” Tim’s voice faded.

Jason stepped back instinctively, giving him space.

The fairy lifted his head, whole body turned toward him, hands outstretched in silent plea.

“If you don’t accept me—if you don’t take my life as the sacrifice I’m meant to be…” His lips trembled. “They will.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. Heat rose in his chest.
“What do you mean by that?”

“No one speaks for me,” Tim said, pressing a hand to his heart. “I can’t go back. And if I do, they’ll call it treason.” His lips curved into a faint, resigned smile. “They’ll kill me.”

Knowing cruelty existed didn’t make it easier to bear. Jason had power, but not enough—not the kind that could change the world.

He could barely protect his own forest, even knowing chaos thrived beyond it.

One person couldn’t fix everything. But he could fix this.

Tim was proof the world still chose misery. He’d been its target, and Jason hadn’t stopped it.
He couldn’t save everyone—but Tim was here now, and this time, he could try.

“Then stay,” Jason said, extending his hand. “You don’t have to leave. But don’t think I want to hurt you, either.”

Tim’s wings fluttered, his body hovering uncertainly in the air. Jason’s hand remained open beneath him, an unspoken invitation.

“If you’re here to stay, then stay,” he said softly. “Stay with me until the end of your life. But live. Live as long as I do—or longer.”

Tim’s wings faltered, and he collapsed onto Jason’s palm. The sound of his sobs cut straight through him.
Jason stayed still, afraid even a breath might disturb him.

Tim folded in on himself, hands pressed to his chest, throat raw with crying.

Seeing something so beautiful come apart like that—Jason never wanted to witness it again.

He would make sure of it.

Jason set the bowl in front of Tim, then took his seat across the table.

Silence filled the room while he cooked. Tim had cried quietly, the sound breaking the air now and then. Jason took it as a kind of acceptance—though he preferred words to surrender.

He stirred his soup, watching the vegetables soften. When he looked up, Tim still hadn’t moved—hands hidden between his legs, eyes fixed on the bowl.

“Don’t you like vegetables?” Jason asked gently.

Tim shook his head. “I… was waiting for permission to eat.”

Jason nearly burned down Tim’s entire village in that instant.

“If it’s on the table,” he said, sliding the bowl closer and tucking the spoon inside, “you can eat. You don’t need my permission. You’re my guest, Tim.”

Tim hesitated—more afraid of disobeying an unspoken rule than breaking one never given.

Jason would find whoever had done this to him—and trap them in jars until they forgot the sun existed.

At least then, fairies would have a reason to fear him.

“Thank you,” Tim whispered.

When the first tears slipped down his face, Jason wasn’t even surprised. Just numb.
Why had they done that to him? And worse—were there others like him?

“Tim,” he said, and the fairy froze, eyes lifting slowly. “Can you answer a few questions?”

Tim nodded, setting the spoon aside. Maybe Jason should’ve let him finish eating, but if there were lives at stake, he couldn’t wait.

“You can refuse if it’s too much,” he added.

Tim blinked—no other answer. Jason didn’t push.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “If it hurts, don’t answer.”

Tim nodded again. Jason still didn’t believe him.

“Where’s your clan?”

“The Blue Cherry Blossom Clan. West of the forest, near a waterfall.”

Jason pictured it. Humid, warm, peaceful. “Many of you?”

Tim frowned slightly. “I think so. I didn’t see much from my house.”

“You didn’t go out much?”

Tim met his gaze—sharp, wary. “No. I wasn’t allowed to.”

He pushed his sleeve to the elbow. Red marks climbed his arm.

Jason’s finger struck the table; flame flared at his knuckles.

Tim didn’t move.

“Does that surprise you?” he asked with a cracked smile. “I’m a sacrifice, sorcerer. I was never meant to be anything else.”

“Why?” Jason’s voice came low, rough.

“Because I’m not a full fairy.” He brushed back his hair, revealing small horns. “My dear mother mated with a dragon. Insolent woman, they said. Mixing her blood with beasts.”

Jason exhaled slowly. So that was why Tim absorbed his magic so easily.

And why the fairies clung to any belief that kept their world in order—even the cruel ones. It explained their behavior. But it didn’t excuse it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“So am I.” Tim turned back to the bowl. “But that doesn’t change anything.” His voice dropped—soft, unsure—before he spoke again. “What do you want from me?”

Jason didn’t know. Maybe he never would. But he couldn’t let Tim die for something that wasn’t his fault.

“You can still stay,” he said at last. “I’m alone. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Tim’s disbelief showed clear.

“Your magic will kill me if you release it. And it’ll kill you if you don’t. There’s no middle ground.”

Jason leaned forward.

“You’re half dragon. That changes things.” He brushed Tim’s hair aside; the fairy didn’t flinch. “Dragons handle my magic better. Their scales drink power instead of breaking under it.”

To prove it—terrified to fail, but needing to try—he let the magic flow, careful as breath.

The scales near Tim’s horns shimmered, drinking the energy like water. Jason didn’t give much, but it was enough.

Their eyes met, power thrumming between them. Something warm flickered in Tim’s gaze, and Jason felt something shift inside him.

“Thank you,” Tim whispered.

Jason smiled—small, shy. “Don’t mention it. Eat. We’ve got to prepare the tower for your stay.”

The silence that followed was different this time—warmer. The hum of magic lingered as they ate, and for the first time in years, Jason’s home felt alive.

Jason led Tim to the cleanest room he had.

He’d made a whole performance of not cleaning or fixing anything out of “respect for the passage of time.”

At that moment, he regretted it a little.

With a quick, slightly embarrassed spell, he cleaned, straightened, and painted the place, leaving it almost like new.

Tim said nothing. He stood there quietly, waiting.

Jason cleared his throat.

“This would be your room,” he said. “I conjured a few warmer, more comfortable clothes.”

That was another thing he preferred not to think about—the short red dress barely covering half of Tim’s legs, the soft fabric sliding over his body, showing the fragile bones of his collarbone.

Maybe the only reason he’d been allowed long sleeves was to hide the scars on his wrists.

“Thank you,” Tim murmured, still motionless.

“Please, stop thanking me.” Jason rubbed a hand over his face. The day had stretched far longer than he’d expected, and the magic in his chest burned. “You don’t need to.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Sorry.”

Jason almost shouted. He bit his tongue instead.

“Not that either. Don’t.” He raised both hands in a plea. “You’re my guest. Not a sacrifice, not an exile, not someone who doesn’t belong.”

He pointed at him, letting the truth steady his voice.

“You can stay here as long as you want. Just… don’t look at me with fear, or guilt, or some respect I don’t deserve.”

Tim’s breath wavered. He nodded slowly. “All right.”

Jason decided to count that as a victory—for now. He was too tired to keep arguing, exhaustion dragging down every muscle.

“Good,” he said, pausing at the doorway. “Good night, Tim.”

He closed the door behind him and returned to his own room.

Two hours of meditation and a few containment spheres would give him some peace while Tim recovered.

It wasn’t that he wanted Tim to leave—but he couldn’t keep him forever either. He wanted to give him the chance to choose.

Leaving the tower didn’t have to mean disappearing into the forest.

He’d help him find a place that would take him as he was. There were still regions where half-bloods were welcome. Tim could have a better life there.

With that new purpose in mind, Jason pulled a sphere from the wardrobe and sat cross-legged on the bed. The air hummed as he filled the small object with power.

There was barely room left for more, but he’d deal with that later.

One thing at a time.

Starting with this.

And deciding what they’d have for breakfast. He should’ve asked Tim earlier, but it was too late now. Tea, coffee, or maybe some chocolate?

Jason lay back, staring at the ceiling.

It had been too long since he’d shared a space with anyone, and Tim’s quiet presence warmed him more than he expected.

He pressed the sphere against his chest, the hum of it steady under his palm.

He hoped Tim felt safe. That he’d stay.

That he’d be his friend.

Yes, he’d like that.

He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen while the sphere drew the energy from him.

Sleep came without warning, and Jason let it take him under.

Chapter Text

The sunlight filtered through the window, warming Jason’s face. The soft flutter of wings and the heat on his skin slowly pulled him from sleep. He yawned and rubbed a hand over his face, brushing away the last traces of dreams.

When he opened his eyes, Tim was standing beside the bed with a tray in his hands, carrying pancakes and a glass of juice.

“Good morning,” Tim said, extending the tray toward him. “I made breakfast.”

Jason blinked, looking from the tray to Tim, who fidgeted—wings twitching nervously.

“Is the food not to your liking?”

Swallowing the sudden sting in his throat, Jason pushed himself upright. “It looks delicious, Tim,” he said, reaching for the tray. “But this isn’t necessary. We can eat together—in the dining room.”

Tim looked puzzled, folding his arms. “I don’t…”

“Tim.” Jason’s voice was calm but firm. “I don’t know what your clan taught you, but forget it. You’re my guest. We’re on equal ground. That’s all that matters.”

There was so much fragile hope in Tim’s eyes that Jason felt something tighten in his chest. He had to fight against years of damage—to show him trust wasn’t a trap. And he wanted to. More than anything.

“Come with me,” he said, getting out of bed and motioning toward the door. “Have breakfast with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had company here.”

He waited for Tim to step out first, then walked beside him. Small gestures—that’s where it began. Proof they stood as equals.
It would be a slow process, but Jason was willing to see it through.

The walk to the kitchen was quiet. Tim moved lightly, wings lowered against his back.
Jason glanced at him, noticing how small he seemed. His gaze fell to the tray—just enough for one. He’d have to cook more.

“Do you need more magic?” he asked, setting the tray on the table and heading for the stove. “I can make you something while I refill your energy.”

Tim shook his head, slow and cautious. “That’s not necessary.”

Jason raised a hand, letting tiny sparks flicker from his fingertips.

“It is. It’ll help you stay stronger while you’re here. Besides…” He hesitated, biting his lip, suddenly self-conscious. “When you took some of my magic—it helped me, too. There’s too much of it sometimes. It gets heavy. Sharing it eases that pressure.”

Tim’s eyes lit up. His wings fluttered, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I helped?”

Jason tried not to react—Tim was nothing like the version from last night, and that shift was something he’d have to watch closely.
Still, he nodded, a quiet warmth softening his features.

“You did.” Jason extended his hand. “But I want to help you too—to make you feel better.”

Tim drew a slow breath and stepped closer. “All right. Let’s do that.”

The small smile curving his lips was the most genuine Jason had seen since they met—fragile, but real.

He guided Jason’s hand toward his hair. Jason’s fingers brushed the scaled ridges of his horns, and magic pulsed from the tips. He exhaled, letting it flow, wrapping them both in a soft, golden current.

Then a faint scent reached him—barely perceptible, drifting across the room until it brushed against his nose and filled his lungs. Subtle, warm, unfamiliar.

The realization struck like a spark, panic tightening in his chest. He reached with his free hand, tracing down the side of Tim’s neck.

Tim’s eyes opened, hazy, pupils wide. The loose fabric of his clothes slipped enough for Jason to pull it aside, revealing the base of his throat.

There it was—clear, undeniable. The mark of an omega. A dragon omega.

Jason swallowed hard. They weren’t supposed to exist anymore. His kind had wiped them out.

He stared at Tim, who leaned unconsciously into his hand, unaware of the danger running through his veins.

The dragons would have claimed him if they’d known.

No—this wasn’t old. This was new. A result of his magic, of stirring the dragon blood inside Tim and giving it form.

He didn’t know what came next. Only that he needed to protect him.

He needed to call Bruce.

With the calm born of years of control, Jason managed to keep his composure. Tim didn’t seem to notice anything during the exchange—only a faint smile lingered on his lips when Jason pulled back.

His posture remained relaxed as Jason guided him to a chair. Tim blinked slowly, a shadow clouding his eyes.

“Shall we eat?” he murmured.

Jason nodded, snapping his fingers behind his back to set the dishes in motion and reignite the fire. Every movement was slow and controlled, keeping Tim’s attention on him while the kitchen stirred to life.

“What do you like to eat?”

Tim hummed, his smile awkward but genuine.

“Food,” he said with a small laugh, offering his hand. “Anything I’m allowed to have.”

The flame flared bright, and Jason had to steady his breathing. He reached out, taking Tim’s hand.

“You can choose whatever you want,” he said, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re free to eat, always. Whatever you wish. And if it’s not in my kitchen, I’ll find it for you.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face.
“Is that a trick?” he asked, pulling back slightly but not letting go.

Jason caught a floating plate before it drifted past.

“No,” he replied, steady and clear. “Everything I tell you, everything I offer, is real. Nothing more.”

The quiet settled between them as more dishes drifted into place. Tim’s previous worries slipped away; he watched the plates glide through the air with wide-eyed fascination. His wings twitched with each new movement, curiosity blooming in every small gesture.

Jason hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to fly with me over them?” He lifted a clean plate into his hand, one made of light plastic, sturdy enough to hold them both. “I could make it move around. I know you can fly, but this time, I’d keep you company.”

“You can?” Tim’s eyes lit up, wings lifting in surprise. “You can really fly with me?”

Jason nodded. “I can shrink to your size and fly beside you—or keep you large and fly with you like this.”

Tim straightened, excitement breaking through every trace of restraint. He shrank in an instant, wings scattering light over the dishes as he floated closer to Jason’s face.

“Fly with me,” he said, holding out his hand, trembling with anticipation. “I’ve never flown with anyone before.”

Jason silenced the voice in his head and focused on what mattered. He stood and let the magic envelop him, his body compressing until he stood on the tabletop at Tim’s height.

Tim stared at him, wide-eyed, then pressed a hand to his chest chest in mock outrage. “You’re my size, but you’re still bigger,” he complained. “That’s unfair.”

Jason smiled and leaned closer. “It has its perks. If you ever need me to carry you, I can hold you easily.”

Tim let out a strangled sound, and Jason pulled back just enough, realizing what he’d said.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Tim raised a hand to stop him, the other covering his mouth as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. If I can’t, then neither can you.”

Warmth bloomed in Jason’s chest, and he fought the grin threatening to break across his face.

“You’re back?” he asked softly.

Tim nodded, a faint blush coloring his cheeks when he looked up.

“That was embarrassing.”

Jason shrugged, trying to ease the tension.

“No, it wasn’t. It was unexpected, that’s all.” He curved his spine slightly, extending his hand. “Do you still want to fly with me?”

Magic flickered between them. Tim’s wings fluttered eagerly even before he spoke. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Jason rarely flew. He’d discovered the ability long ago—it helped rescue stray animals or reach impossible heights. But he had never followed the wild, erratic flight of a fairy.

Tim moved fast, spinning in tight circles, laughter spilling out with each turn. He darted through the kitchen corners, glancing back to find Jason gliding behind him at a slower pace.

He should’ve conjured wings, Jason thought, instead of relying on pure magic to stay afloat. Wings might have helped him match that pace. Still, he settled for the sound of Tim’s laughter echoing through the air—for the shimmer of his flight filling the room and breaking the silence that had always lived there.

Eventually, Tim stopped in front of him, chest rising fast, face flushed from the effort, a wide smile lighting his mouth.
“Do you want me to carry you?”

He offered his hand again, wings trembling, alive with nervous energy under Jason’s gaze.

Jason had never spent much time thinking about beauty in others. A person was beautiful if their soul was. His past lovers—brief as they were—had all carried bright souls.

Good people. Good creatures. Kind beings. What they were didn’t matter, only that they were kind. Jason had always let himself be pulled toward any form of love.

But now, he didn’t even know Tim’s soul. They’d only known each other two days. Maybe it was damaged. And still—his smile, the spark in his eyes, the trembling light of his wings—everything about him drew Jason in.

He surrendered before realizing he’d been resisting.

He reached out and took Tim’s hand, letting himself be pulled into a quick, reckless flight through the kitchen. Tim’s laughter burst around them, catching Jason’s until both sounds filled the space that had always been silent.

The food was cold by the time they stopped—right after Tim’s stomach growled with hunger.

“I can warm it up,” Jason offered.

“No, that’s not necessary.” Tim sat down, more at ease now, a faint smile curving his lips. “It’s perfect like this.”

Without another word, he lifted a spoon to his mouth. Jason had made sure to prepare something gentle: pumpkin purée with small pieces of rabbit meat.

He didn’t eat meat himself, but Tim needed the extra nutrients. Once he recovered, he could decide whether to follow a fairy’s diet—or a dragon’s.

Jason took his seat across from him, eyeing his own plate of pancakes. A comfortable silence settled between them as they ate.

Taking advantage of the quiet, he traced a quick message on the table’s surface. Bruce had withdrawn long ago—living like an old hermit tucked away in the darkest cave. Maybe reviving people. Maybe raising bats. Jason didn’t know, and he didn’t care to ask.

But his mentor still knew the ancient stories better than anyone, and he was the only one who might understand Tim’s condition.

Jason signed the message by burning the words into the wood until they turned to ash and vanished without a trace—a practical way to send notes that only the recipient could read.

When he looked up, Tim was watching him with open curiosity. “How did you do that?”

“It’s magic,” Jason replied, leaning forward slightly. “Just a simple writing trick.”

He placed his hand on the table again, and a golden flower bloomed across the surface. Its glow brightened for a few seconds before fading out.

At the same moment, light shimmered on the opposite side. Tim brushed his fingers over it, and the flower reappeared—alive for a few heartbeats before vanishing again.

He traced the empty space with his fingertips. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “Magic is beautiful.”

Jason smiled. He’d thought the same once—fascinated by everything it could do, by the idea of using power to help the world. A child’s hope, gone too soon.

“I can teach you,” he said quietly.

Tim’s gaze lifted, eyes gleaming with restrained longing.

“When you’re stronger” Jason said “I can show you a few tricks.”

Tim nodded at once, a smile lighting his face. “I’d like that.”

Jason smiled back. He liked that idea too. Teaching Tim might help him defend himself someday. If his fairy blood blended properly with his dragon essence, he could become powerful—strong enough not to fear the fairies who had once tortured him. Strong enough not to fear dragons either.

He would live.

Maybe as long as Jason did.

Maybe long enough to be more than a fleeting presence.

A friend who chose to stay—and could.

“Jason,” Tim said, eyes fixed on the empty plate. “White mage… my clan needs help.”

The sharp sound of a spoon breaking cracked the silence—muffled by Jason’s magic before it reached the air. Tim didn’t notice; he only lifted his head, meeting Jason’s gaze.

“I beg mercy for my people, and that you help us with the problem that plagues us.”

Jason felt a laugh rise in his throat—a cheap mockery for the people he wanted to burn. He swallowed it; Tim wouldn’t understand.

“Why would I do that?” he asked through his teeth.

Tim opened and closed his mouth, confused.
“Because… that’s why I was released.” His voice wavered. “I must get your help and fulfill my purpose as a sacrifice. If you don’t go, they will come.”

Jason stood still, fire burning in his chest.

“And if I don’t want to?”

Tim reached for Jason’s hand and gripped it before he could pull away.

“I beg you. My people are dying…”

“They were trying to kill you,” the words slipped out before he could bite them back.

Tim shook his head, eyes wet with held-back tears.
“Not all of them. But there was no reason to free someone else’s bastard.”

“Tim, listen to yourself. They still shouldn’t have tortured you.”

“It wasn’t torture. It was necessary. I had to atone for my sins.”

“What bullshit.” Jason’s jaw tightened. “You can’t think like that. You aren’t to blame for your parents’ choices.”

“Mage…”

“And the fairies decided to torture you when you were a damned child.”

“Jason—”

“Sins?” he sneered. “What could a child do to—”

“I killed my mother!” The shout filled the room. Tim stepped back, standing to face him. “Too big. Too dangerous. The fire in my veins burned her body, and she didn’t stop. She went on with the pregnancy as if I— as if I was worth having.”

“Tim—” Jason gasped, a knot tightening his throat.

“For what?” Tim cried, incredulous, tears running down his face. “So the only thing they ask me to do ends in failure?”

Jason rose too, hands clenched on the table.

“No. It wasn’t like that.” He drew a deep breath, trying to order his thoughts. “If this matters to you, I’ll help. I will. But don’t think you failed. They failed you. They betrayed you. Being born wasn’t your crime. If your mother chose to have you, she did it because she loved you—pure, unconditional love.”

Tim said nothing. His sobs came in small, broken breaths. Jason regretted some of his earlier words, but his body had reacted before his reason could catch up. Emotions had pushed to the surface, leaving him raw to every response. He wondered if it was Tim, the omega mark at his throat, or simply the fear of seeing another soul shattered.

“I’ll do it,” he repeated. “But only for you. If they ruin it, they get nothing from me.”

Tim swallowed a sob, breathing hard.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Jason let his fingers curl and the magic gather. A red handkerchief blinked into his palm. He held it out to Tim.

“You don’t have to thank me. They should be thanking you.”

Tim took the cloth with trembling hands and a small, sad smile.

“They’d die before they did.”

Jason smiled, the malice sharp in his eyes. “I’d like to bet on that.”

Tim dried his cheeks, unfazed by the tone.

“I thought you didn’t hurt anyone,” he said.

Jason tilted his head, a faint smile at his lips.

“I don’t hurt innocents. But if I’m called the savior of their village… well, I’ll save them—even from their own people.”

Tim shook his head, amused.

“That attitude doesn’t suit you.”

“Cruel fairy,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Silly mage,” Tim shot back.

Jason welcomed the shift and turned his attention to the dishes. He hated seeing Tim cry; he hated how the air around him tasted of pain. He wondered if anyone else could smell it—if it was safe to let Tim leave the tower or if he’d have to keep him contained until Bruce answered. He hoped not, but he had no way to know.

“I need to meditate for a few hours,” he said, turning as the plates cleaned themselves behind him. “Is there anything you want to do while I’m gone?”

Tim blinked. Jason mirrored the motion.

“What do you—like, what?” Tim said.

Jason’s mind flicked to darker possibilities. Could he burn the Blue Cherry Clan to ash before Tim ever learned?