![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Vin's Dragon
Rating: PG for some violence, language
Character: Vin, dragon OC, some Chris, Nathan, mentions of Josiah
Summary: Vin has his very own dragon. M7/Temeraire fusion.
A/N: Big, huge thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sharpes_hussy for her invaluable beta service and support. This here story you're about to read is just a bit of whimsy, spawned after finishing Black Powder War, book three of the Temraire novels. I couldn't help thinking about what having dragons in the old west would have been like, and one thing led to another until this story was born. You don't really need to know the novels to understand what's going on, but some FYI: dragons can learn whatever language they happen to hear while still inside the egg. If a dragon is not harnessed as soon as it is hatched, it will not let anyone ride it. But the dragon has to allow the harnessing to happen, and whoever harnesses it becomes its captain/rider.
Now on to the story...
Vin's Dragon
Vin always considered it an accident that the dragon came to him, even if the Comanches didn't. They weren't big believers in coincidence, and had a lot more respect for a dragon's independence than most white folk. They'd also had Vin visiting in on the eggs in the hatching tent, talking to them so as to get the young dragons fluent in both Comanche and English before they hatched, being a useful skill these days. So it wasn't like Vin was a stranger to them, at least not in voice. As soon as the hardened copper shell burst, that little dragonet ambled up to Vin as though it had been waiting for him the moment its egg was laid. It was just a little feller of a beast, only slightly bigger than a house cat, but fearsome to behold even then: copper striped in red, crowned with an impressive curve of horns and sharp spines running down its back with shallow webbing in between. It could lower those spines, up straight to perfectly flat, even raise and flatten in sections.
But when it looked up at Vin with big sapphire eyes, for all the fearsomeness Vin couldn't help but think it kind of cute. Then a harness was thrust into his hand by an unhappy brave. Most of the young braves were frowning, the elders more amused than anything else, and Vin had no choice. If there was a universal offense in any tribe, in any culture on any continent, it was to let a dragon go feral.
So Vin harnessed the little fella, then stood back and stared.
Vin Tanner, buffalo hunter, orphan, pretty much a nobody according to most folk, had himself a dragon.
---------------------
It was possible for a dragon to be too independent, which, to the Comanches, was a good thing. But damn if that dragon didn't take his sweet time in picking his own name. For all his easy going ways, he was a damn stubborn beast. Vin had complained as much to Red Feather, whose dragon was the father of Vin's. Both Red Feather and Moon Keeper just laughed.
Vin's dragon did give Vin the courtesy of suggesting names, though. The dragon didn't cotton much to Indian names, not in the native tongue nor their translation. He kept asking questions about Vin's name, why he used Vin instead of Vincent, what it meant, all of which Vin could only answer with a helpless shrug. The dragon then asked if Vin had any siblings, what their names were, what his parents had been named.
And Vin had to answer, somewhat uncomfortably, about being an only child.
“Didn't know my pa. Ma died when I's five.” Vin smiled sadly. “Too soon to tell me what my name meant, if it had a meaning.”
The dragon looked positively stricken hearing this. Dragons might not have close family ties with their own blood, but they understood it from watching the humans around them; enough to know that though it may not much matter to a dragon, it often mattered much to a human.
“I'm sorry,” the dragon said, spines flat and head drooped. Vin rubbed the dragonlet's head between his horns and webbed spikes.
“”T'ain't nothin'. What happens, happens. Nothin' much to be done about it now.”
“What did your mother look like?” the dragon asked next.
“Pretty,” Vin said, thinking back on memories going a bit hazy around the edges. “Thin, but pretty. And kind. I remembered she used to love telling stories.”
The dragon perked up at this. “What kind?”
It took a bit more thinking to recall some of the tales, and he told them to the best of his recollection. Somewhere along the way in the telling, the dragon hopped with an excited squeak and declared with much enthusiasm, “Ga-wain! I wanna be called Ga-wain, like that knight feller.”
Vin was pretty sure he'd been butchering the name, but Gawain it was, cut down to only Wain since the dragon had got it into his head that's how names were supposed to be. It wasn't anything fancy, not like the names of those heavyweight dragons during the war, but better than nothing, Vin supposed.
And it made Wain happy, which made Vin happy, and that was all that really mattered.
--------------------------
Wain was what most folk would classify as a lightweight, a good size bigger than a horse yet only able to accommodate maybe two, three riders; like them courier dragons during the war, whipping back and forth over bloody battlefields delivering messages.
Most Indian tribes favored the light weights for quick attacks and quick maneuvers. They were also easier to care for, though it wasn't strange to come across a tribe with a middleweight or two, even a heavyweight if the tribe was large enough to give it a crew.
Vin kept to himself how glad he was of all these lightweights, as he doubted he could have cared for a middleweight, and hell no could he have handled a heavyweight – those things were damn bigger than a house! But Wain, he was just the right size for someone like Vin. Considered a runt, even, not that it mattered. Vin knew from personal experience that size didn't always amount to much, not when it came to skill.
Wain made buffalo hunting a game and just a little too easy at times. The dragon would round 'em up, then Vin would take shots. Standing orders were to leave the carcasses and take only the skins, though Wain, sneaky bastard that he could be, could inhale a buffalo like a dog wolfing down scraps.
It didn't sit right with Wain, though; all that killing, then leaving the bodies to rot.
“Kind of a waste, don't you think?” Wain asked.
“Thems the orders,” Vin said. “As long as I'm paid, I don't question 'em.” Except he did, whenever he came to a Comanche or Kiowa camp, seeing them low on hides, low on meat, faces pinched with hunger. And again when the next herd Wain rounded up was smaller than the last.
It didn't feel right, and the more Vin killed, the more that feeling sat in his gut like a pile of rocks.
“There's gotta be better ways of gettin' paid,” Wain said. “At this rate, there won't be none left. Seems a right shame, if you ask me.” And that was the final straw for Vin. Vin didn't know why; weren't like it some astounding epiphany or words of wisdom. Just a simple point of fact that Vin couldn't stop himself from pondering over.
He and Wain turned their backs on buffalo hunting.
It was Wain who suggested bounty hunting.
“My speed and your tracking skills,” the dragon said, all toothy smiles, one night as they camped under the stars. “Like shootin' fish in a barrel. We'd make even better money, and put bad men in a place where they can't hurt no one.”
Vin grinned. Wain had one hell of a noble streak in him as he never did tolerate folk getting hurt for no reason.
The life of a bounty hunter was golden for both dragon and man. Vin had the idea of using Wain as a secret weapon. Vin would flush the varmints out and Wain would snatch them up quick as you please. But until that moment, the dragon was to remain hidden while Vin tracked. He even got himself a horse for the ruse, and damned if he didn't like the animal. It took some time to break him, having been wild and mistreated when Vin found him, but horse and man had an understanding that only came from having been in too bad places in their life, and it wasn't long before the horse came to... not so much to respecting Vin as tolerating him.
It was also a never ending kick to see a horse tolerate a dragon. The way Vin figured it, because Wain had a low opinion of horses as nothing but food when humans weren't using them, Peso was bound and determined to prove him wrong. The damn horse was brave, stupidly so, but had no compunctions about nipping at Wain if he came too close.
“He's got guts. Gotta give him that,” Wain said with much reluctance.
Vin felt rather proud, doubting there'd ever been a time throughout history when a horse and dragon got relatively along.
-------------------------
Vin and Wain had yet to meet any bounty that didn't damn near wet themselves when Wain roared or steamed the ground with his acid spit. But as is wont to happen, their reputations preceded them, and it wasn't long before their quarry got clever.
Vin blamed himself, figuring he got too full of himself, too confident. Eli Joe should have been like any other bounty, but he wasn't. The next thing Vin knew, he brought in the wrong man, the local sheriff was crying murder, and Vin was hauling ass on Peso out of town where Wain was waiting, Wain beside himself with horror as he flew alongside human and horse.
“I didn't know, Vin! I didn't!”
“S'all right, partner, neither did I!” Vin called back.
They shouldn't have escaped, not with a middleweight on their tail, one of them Mexican dragons all bright yellow and oranges like a sunset, but bristling with more spikes than a cactus. And they were fire breathers.
Yet by mere fortune or the grace of God they did escape. Having a head start had helped, as did both Vin and Wain getting to know the land in their tracking. They found themselves a small cave, well hidden behind some rocks, to hole up in, waiting until night to move. Vin thanked the good Lord the town only had the Mexican and not some nocturnal breed, or Vin's neck would have been hugged by a rope and Wain hobbled to be shipped off to some breeding ground.
The joy of being alive and free, however, was soon drowned beneath the realization that, no, they weren't free. Vin would have a bounty on his own head, no doubt. They couldn't stick around.
So Vin, Wain and Peso left Texas, heading north.
“Don't mind myself, really,” Wain said, walking alongside Vin and the horse. “Always did want to see more of this land.” But he looked at Vin askance. “Think we'll ever come back, though?”
Vin stared straight ahead, the endless night on his left, the ribbons of gold on his right heralding a new day.
“Don't know,” he said. “But I aim to try.”
----------------------
Vin got himself a wagon and a horse to pull it since Peso wouldn't have anything to do with it. Weren't much to look at, but he figured it would do to carry supplies and such. They survived mostly on wild game, trading the skins for bread, vegetables and feed for the horses. Wain stayed mostly out of sight when coming near populated areas. They'd run into a wanted poster with their pictures on it, and it was Wain's belief that as long as Vin wasn't seen with a dragon then folks might not be too quick to act on the poster's promise of five hundred dollars. Vin didn't like it. Neither could he argue it.
Then the pickings became slim out in the wild, the towns fewer, the wagon showing its age and Vin had no choice but to take employment. Four Corners weren't much of a town, if it could be called a town; kind of ragged and wild, the locals timid, and everyone else liable to shoot you if you so much as looked their way. But it had a store in desperate need of a clerk, a boarding house, a saloon and a place for Vin to park the stupid piece of crap wagon he called home, as well as a livery to house Peso.
But Wain, poor Wain, had no choice but to stay out in the wilds. The town didn't have its own dragon, and wanted poster aside, Vin doubted the town would take too kindly to even a lightweight dragon sprawled out in the middle of the street.
Not that Wain minded.
“The huntin's hard, but not too bad. Even met this nice feller named Josiah out yonder trying to put some church back together.”
Vin visited Wain often enough, spending nights out in the open land with Wain while the weather permitted. It wasn't an ideal life, his wages too meager to keep Wain on pigs and cows, the town unstable and liable to go under at any moment. But it would do for now until Vin figured out what course of action to take next.
Then he met Chris Larabee, and following him one Nathan Jackson the local colored healer, when they saved Jackson from getting lynched. Vin had been sure he was gonna die that day, and all he could think of was how pissed Wain would be about it. It was a right close thing until Wain flew in at the last minute, roaring fit to split the earth, scaring off the lynchers that weren't dead and giving Vin and Chris a clear shot on the rope strangling Jackson.
When it was all over, Nathan coughing up a storm but getting to his feet, Wain landed.
And was pissed.
“Damn it, Vin! You get yourself into a fight and don't think to call me into it! You's lucky I was nearby at the time and heard all that shootin' outside the town. You know your gun ain't hard for me to miss when it starts goin' off. Why didn't ya holler, I would have heard you!”
It was quite a sight, those standing witness, such as Mrs. Travis, gaping, Nathan eying Wain like the dragon might take a fancy to human meat. And Chris... well, Chris made Vin think of those Comanche elders, slightly bewildered but mostly amused.
And if shootin' cow hands to hell to save another man's life hadn't made them friends, that Larabee stared at Wain without a lick of so much as unease to show for it did.
The end, for now
A/N 2: Hope you all enjoyed. If you did, I'm hoping to write more about Vin and Wain, and most especially Wain's interactions with the other seven. Also, if you found this universe intriguing and would like to write one or more of the seven with their own dragons, please feel free to :D It's a fusion, and the Temeraire novels are no more mine than M7. However, if you would like to write a Vin and Wain adventure, I would much appreciate it if you let me know via private message. As I said, I plan on expounding on this universe, so there are some things you may need to know.
Rating: PG for some violence, language
Character: Vin, dragon OC, some Chris, Nathan, mentions of Josiah
Summary: Vin has his very own dragon. M7/Temeraire fusion.
A/N: Big, huge thanks to
sharpes_hussy for her invaluable beta service and support. This here story you're about to read is just a bit of whimsy, spawned after finishing Black Powder War, book three of the Temraire novels. I couldn't help thinking about what having dragons in the old west would have been like, and one thing led to another until this story was born. You don't really need to know the novels to understand what's going on, but some FYI: dragons can learn whatever language they happen to hear while still inside the egg. If a dragon is not harnessed as soon as it is hatched, it will not let anyone ride it. But the dragon has to allow the harnessing to happen, and whoever harnesses it becomes its captain/rider. Now on to the story...
Vin always considered it an accident that the dragon came to him, even if the Comanches didn't. They weren't big believers in coincidence, and had a lot more respect for a dragon's independence than most white folk. They'd also had Vin visiting in on the eggs in the hatching tent, talking to them so as to get the young dragons fluent in both Comanche and English before they hatched, being a useful skill these days. So it wasn't like Vin was a stranger to them, at least not in voice. As soon as the hardened copper shell burst, that little dragonet ambled up to Vin as though it had been waiting for him the moment its egg was laid. It was just a little feller of a beast, only slightly bigger than a house cat, but fearsome to behold even then: copper striped in red, crowned with an impressive curve of horns and sharp spines running down its back with shallow webbing in between. It could lower those spines, up straight to perfectly flat, even raise and flatten in sections.
But when it looked up at Vin with big sapphire eyes, for all the fearsomeness Vin couldn't help but think it kind of cute. Then a harness was thrust into his hand by an unhappy brave. Most of the young braves were frowning, the elders more amused than anything else, and Vin had no choice. If there was a universal offense in any tribe, in any culture on any continent, it was to let a dragon go feral.
So Vin harnessed the little fella, then stood back and stared.
Vin Tanner, buffalo hunter, orphan, pretty much a nobody according to most folk, had himself a dragon.
---------------------
It was possible for a dragon to be too independent, which, to the Comanches, was a good thing. But damn if that dragon didn't take his sweet time in picking his own name. For all his easy going ways, he was a damn stubborn beast. Vin had complained as much to Red Feather, whose dragon was the father of Vin's. Both Red Feather and Moon Keeper just laughed.
Vin's dragon did give Vin the courtesy of suggesting names, though. The dragon didn't cotton much to Indian names, not in the native tongue nor their translation. He kept asking questions about Vin's name, why he used Vin instead of Vincent, what it meant, all of which Vin could only answer with a helpless shrug. The dragon then asked if Vin had any siblings, what their names were, what his parents had been named.
And Vin had to answer, somewhat uncomfortably, about being an only child.
“Didn't know my pa. Ma died when I's five.” Vin smiled sadly. “Too soon to tell me what my name meant, if it had a meaning.”
The dragon looked positively stricken hearing this. Dragons might not have close family ties with their own blood, but they understood it from watching the humans around them; enough to know that though it may not much matter to a dragon, it often mattered much to a human.
“I'm sorry,” the dragon said, spines flat and head drooped. Vin rubbed the dragonlet's head between his horns and webbed spikes.
“”T'ain't nothin'. What happens, happens. Nothin' much to be done about it now.”
“What did your mother look like?” the dragon asked next.
“Pretty,” Vin said, thinking back on memories going a bit hazy around the edges. “Thin, but pretty. And kind. I remembered she used to love telling stories.”
The dragon perked up at this. “What kind?”
It took a bit more thinking to recall some of the tales, and he told them to the best of his recollection. Somewhere along the way in the telling, the dragon hopped with an excited squeak and declared with much enthusiasm, “Ga-wain! I wanna be called Ga-wain, like that knight feller.”
Vin was pretty sure he'd been butchering the name, but Gawain it was, cut down to only Wain since the dragon had got it into his head that's how names were supposed to be. It wasn't anything fancy, not like the names of those heavyweight dragons during the war, but better than nothing, Vin supposed.
And it made Wain happy, which made Vin happy, and that was all that really mattered.
--------------------------
Wain was what most folk would classify as a lightweight, a good size bigger than a horse yet only able to accommodate maybe two, three riders; like them courier dragons during the war, whipping back and forth over bloody battlefields delivering messages.
Most Indian tribes favored the light weights for quick attacks and quick maneuvers. They were also easier to care for, though it wasn't strange to come across a tribe with a middleweight or two, even a heavyweight if the tribe was large enough to give it a crew.
Vin kept to himself how glad he was of all these lightweights, as he doubted he could have cared for a middleweight, and hell no could he have handled a heavyweight – those things were damn bigger than a house! But Wain, he was just the right size for someone like Vin. Considered a runt, even, not that it mattered. Vin knew from personal experience that size didn't always amount to much, not when it came to skill.
Wain made buffalo hunting a game and just a little too easy at times. The dragon would round 'em up, then Vin would take shots. Standing orders were to leave the carcasses and take only the skins, though Wain, sneaky bastard that he could be, could inhale a buffalo like a dog wolfing down scraps.
It didn't sit right with Wain, though; all that killing, then leaving the bodies to rot.
“Kind of a waste, don't you think?” Wain asked.
“Thems the orders,” Vin said. “As long as I'm paid, I don't question 'em.” Except he did, whenever he came to a Comanche or Kiowa camp, seeing them low on hides, low on meat, faces pinched with hunger. And again when the next herd Wain rounded up was smaller than the last.
It didn't feel right, and the more Vin killed, the more that feeling sat in his gut like a pile of rocks.
“There's gotta be better ways of gettin' paid,” Wain said. “At this rate, there won't be none left. Seems a right shame, if you ask me.” And that was the final straw for Vin. Vin didn't know why; weren't like it some astounding epiphany or words of wisdom. Just a simple point of fact that Vin couldn't stop himself from pondering over.
He and Wain turned their backs on buffalo hunting.
It was Wain who suggested bounty hunting.
“My speed and your tracking skills,” the dragon said, all toothy smiles, one night as they camped under the stars. “Like shootin' fish in a barrel. We'd make even better money, and put bad men in a place where they can't hurt no one.”
Vin grinned. Wain had one hell of a noble streak in him as he never did tolerate folk getting hurt for no reason.
The life of a bounty hunter was golden for both dragon and man. Vin had the idea of using Wain as a secret weapon. Vin would flush the varmints out and Wain would snatch them up quick as you please. But until that moment, the dragon was to remain hidden while Vin tracked. He even got himself a horse for the ruse, and damned if he didn't like the animal. It took some time to break him, having been wild and mistreated when Vin found him, but horse and man had an understanding that only came from having been in too bad places in their life, and it wasn't long before the horse came to... not so much to respecting Vin as tolerating him.
It was also a never ending kick to see a horse tolerate a dragon. The way Vin figured it, because Wain had a low opinion of horses as nothing but food when humans weren't using them, Peso was bound and determined to prove him wrong. The damn horse was brave, stupidly so, but had no compunctions about nipping at Wain if he came too close.
“He's got guts. Gotta give him that,” Wain said with much reluctance.
Vin felt rather proud, doubting there'd ever been a time throughout history when a horse and dragon got relatively along.
-------------------------
Vin and Wain had yet to meet any bounty that didn't damn near wet themselves when Wain roared or steamed the ground with his acid spit. But as is wont to happen, their reputations preceded them, and it wasn't long before their quarry got clever.
Vin blamed himself, figuring he got too full of himself, too confident. Eli Joe should have been like any other bounty, but he wasn't. The next thing Vin knew, he brought in the wrong man, the local sheriff was crying murder, and Vin was hauling ass on Peso out of town where Wain was waiting, Wain beside himself with horror as he flew alongside human and horse.
“I didn't know, Vin! I didn't!”
“S'all right, partner, neither did I!” Vin called back.
They shouldn't have escaped, not with a middleweight on their tail, one of them Mexican dragons all bright yellow and oranges like a sunset, but bristling with more spikes than a cactus. And they were fire breathers.
Yet by mere fortune or the grace of God they did escape. Having a head start had helped, as did both Vin and Wain getting to know the land in their tracking. They found themselves a small cave, well hidden behind some rocks, to hole up in, waiting until night to move. Vin thanked the good Lord the town only had the Mexican and not some nocturnal breed, or Vin's neck would have been hugged by a rope and Wain hobbled to be shipped off to some breeding ground.
The joy of being alive and free, however, was soon drowned beneath the realization that, no, they weren't free. Vin would have a bounty on his own head, no doubt. They couldn't stick around.
So Vin, Wain and Peso left Texas, heading north.
“Don't mind myself, really,” Wain said, walking alongside Vin and the horse. “Always did want to see more of this land.” But he looked at Vin askance. “Think we'll ever come back, though?”
Vin stared straight ahead, the endless night on his left, the ribbons of gold on his right heralding a new day.
“Don't know,” he said. “But I aim to try.”
----------------------
Vin got himself a wagon and a horse to pull it since Peso wouldn't have anything to do with it. Weren't much to look at, but he figured it would do to carry supplies and such. They survived mostly on wild game, trading the skins for bread, vegetables and feed for the horses. Wain stayed mostly out of sight when coming near populated areas. They'd run into a wanted poster with their pictures on it, and it was Wain's belief that as long as Vin wasn't seen with a dragon then folks might not be too quick to act on the poster's promise of five hundred dollars. Vin didn't like it. Neither could he argue it.
Then the pickings became slim out in the wild, the towns fewer, the wagon showing its age and Vin had no choice but to take employment. Four Corners weren't much of a town, if it could be called a town; kind of ragged and wild, the locals timid, and everyone else liable to shoot you if you so much as looked their way. But it had a store in desperate need of a clerk, a boarding house, a saloon and a place for Vin to park the stupid piece of crap wagon he called home, as well as a livery to house Peso.
But Wain, poor Wain, had no choice but to stay out in the wilds. The town didn't have its own dragon, and wanted poster aside, Vin doubted the town would take too kindly to even a lightweight dragon sprawled out in the middle of the street.
Not that Wain minded.
“The huntin's hard, but not too bad. Even met this nice feller named Josiah out yonder trying to put some church back together.”
Vin visited Wain often enough, spending nights out in the open land with Wain while the weather permitted. It wasn't an ideal life, his wages too meager to keep Wain on pigs and cows, the town unstable and liable to go under at any moment. But it would do for now until Vin figured out what course of action to take next.
Then he met Chris Larabee, and following him one Nathan Jackson the local colored healer, when they saved Jackson from getting lynched. Vin had been sure he was gonna die that day, and all he could think of was how pissed Wain would be about it. It was a right close thing until Wain flew in at the last minute, roaring fit to split the earth, scaring off the lynchers that weren't dead and giving Vin and Chris a clear shot on the rope strangling Jackson.
When it was all over, Nathan coughing up a storm but getting to his feet, Wain landed.
And was pissed.
“Damn it, Vin! You get yourself into a fight and don't think to call me into it! You's lucky I was nearby at the time and heard all that shootin' outside the town. You know your gun ain't hard for me to miss when it starts goin' off. Why didn't ya holler, I would have heard you!”
It was quite a sight, those standing witness, such as Mrs. Travis, gaping, Nathan eying Wain like the dragon might take a fancy to human meat. And Chris... well, Chris made Vin think of those Comanche elders, slightly bewildered but mostly amused.
And if shootin' cow hands to hell to save another man's life hadn't made them friends, that Larabee stared at Wain without a lick of so much as unease to show for it did.
A/N 2: Hope you all enjoyed. If you did, I'm hoping to write more about Vin and Wain, and most especially Wain's interactions with the other seven. Also, if you found this universe intriguing and would like to write one or more of the seven with their own dragons, please feel free to :D It's a fusion, and the Temeraire novels are no more mine than M7. However, if you would like to write a Vin and Wain adventure, I would much appreciate it if you let me know via private message. As I said, I plan on expounding on this universe, so there are some things you may need to know.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-03-18 03:42 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-18 04:10 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-18 07:15 am (UTC)From:Vin, blinks. Turns to Ezra. "EZZZZ! YA' GOT MY DRAGON TALKIN' LIKE YOU NOW!"
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Date: 2010-03-18 09:35 pm (UTC)From: