Insidious [Closed RP: Ancalagon, Smaug]

[mightiest-black.livejournal.com]

Ancalagon had long been privy to his golden kin's plans and had observed the glorious debacle that was the last Muggle Studies class from a distance. He'd been asked not to interfere, a request which he'd surprisingly honoured. It was important that Smaug begin to trust him.

Both dragons had anticipated a neat and clean end to the so-called "Arioch", who Ancalagon had discovered was nothing more than an alarmingly and deliciously obese mortal Man and not any sort of powerful hell-being at all -- a fact Smaug, too, had to have known, surely. Why then would Smaug's pet albino sorcerer serve one even weaker than himself? That went against the proper order of things. But, then, Smaug had always said this Emperor of Melniboné was likely half-mad.

Elric had proved as much when he'd brazenly, foolishly thwarted Smaug's plans during the war games, as Ancalagon had witnessed and then later been told of in exhaustive detail, when the other dragon had paid him a visit to vent his anger and frustration.

Ancalagon was no fool. He knew it was not frustration over being denied a small morsel that upset his golden kin so. He'd never pretended to understand why Smaug chose to keep the strange company he did, but he did know the bite of betrayal and jealousy enough to recognise it in others, and Smaug obviously felt betrayed by one he'd named friend.

As the weeks wore on without Elric offering recompense and "Arioch" proving to be entirely useless, Smaug's brooding anger worsened, and Ancalagon grew ever more pleased with the situation, thinking it would serve as a lesson for why dragons were not meant to have such close dealings with those not of their own blood. Smaug clearly felt Elric had chosen his mortal Patron over their friendship, and Ancalagon did nothing to discourage such thinking. And why shouldn't he?

Elric's folly would be Ancalagon's gain.

"These visits of yours are becoming more frequent," the black dragon drawled as he appeared in the mouth of his cavernous mountain lair -- one of several he'd claimed for himself years ago -- to greet his visitor outside. He took his time looking Smaug over, admiring how sleek and powerful he'd become, the beautiful iridescence of his scales in the morning light, the glittering gold and jewels which encrusted his underside...

At length he asked, "Have you come to regale me with tales of some new irritation, or shall we hunt together again?" He moved forward into the light, and once there was room to he stretched out his massive wings -- easily spanning three times the length of him -- wanting to absorb the warmth of the newly risen sun. Not that he had any need to, for all dragons of their kind were endothermic and homeothermic, but merely because he enjoyed the pleasant sensation.

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[smaug-thegolden.livejournal.com]

Smaug's relationships with others were handled much as his hoard was—he essentially viewed his allies, friends and adoptive family alike as possessions; they were his. This possessiveness was not limited to Elric alone, but extended to Dethklok and Ofdensen, and Smaug's little group of Shoggies as well. There were naturally certain nuances—he also viewed himself as literally belonging to Skwisgaar and Toki, who had both named themselves his fathers when he'd magically reverted to an impressionable hatchling; to a lesser extent, Nathan and Ofdensen too, who had named themselves his uncles. It hardly mattered that they weren't of his blood, they were still his. Should he ever run into Brienne or Mikami again, he might likely act slightly less hostile than usual with them as well.

Elric was a different matter. The bond they shared wasn't exactly familial, but Smaug did obviously care about him a great deal, or else he wouldn't be made to feel so angry over the Arioch mess, he knew.

That feeling of betrayal had eventually given way to a seething jealousy whose only cure appeared to be the demise of 'Arioch', and Elric had already made it clear he was willing to protect his Patron even against Smaug. Unfortunately, when Elric's recompense did come, it would likely go awry once Smaug learnt of the Baron Harkonnen keeping twenty percent of Smaug's gold for himself. Elric could be forgiven for his ignorance, since Smaug could in truth forgive him almost anything, given enough time, but 'Arioch' would be bound to learn why it was not wise to come between a dragon and even a single piece of what he considered to be his gold. There would also be the question as to why such an all powerful Patron who regularly received blood and soul sacrifices should need gold at all. . .

Smaug had likewise been sunning himself while waiting, and had his wings fanned out to either side of himself and his long neck arched upward, face in the sun. He was not a small dragon, and probably twice again or more the size of those native to the wizarding world, yet his wing tips only reached a bit past the long curving thumbs of Ancalagon's. Perhaps in another few millennia he might rival the Black's prodigious size.

"I would welcome conversation and a hunt," he replied, regarding Ancalagon with slitted eyes. The warmth of the sun had eased his agitation somewhat, and flying would also help, as it always did. He wondered if Toki and Skwisgaar might like to join them as riders this time, since they'd seemed so enthusiastic about it before. It would be simple enough to cook their meat for them. But perhaps it was wiser to keep his 'family' well away from Ancalagon. With his wings still spread, he climbed up to a stone perch above Ancalagon's lair and looked back toward Hogwarts. The school and woods appeared tiny at this distance; it was a magnificent view. Not for the first time, he envied Ancalagon for his territory.

[mightiest-black.livejournal.com]

Now starring Smaug the Dragon as the jilted lover!

Ancalagon folded back his wings and trailed Smaug on the opposite side, scaling the rocks with ease and coming to stand near him atop his lair. He followed the other dragon's gaze, idly remarking, "It looks so insignificant from here, doesn't it."

After a moment he turned his eyes skyward, reading the weather in the instinctive way that dragons could and mentally plotting their course accordingly. He had something a little different in mind today, nothing as ordinary as raiding one of the nearby cattle farms or forests. With such a fine, clear day spread out before them, he was in the mood for travelling -- follow the coast, see where it might lead them. Perhaps cross the ocean and head northeast, toward the lands of ice, if Smaug was of a mind to make the long journey with him. They could feast on orcas as they went and enjoy the freedom of the skies together.

Almost as if they were friends.

"Why do you allow mere men to trouble you so?" He looked at Smaug. "Living at their doorstep in that forest has done something to you. Made you think as they do. You would do well to remember what you are." This was a conversation that was better had on the wing. Spreading his wings like two great, grasping hands, his other four limbs flexed as he leapt from the mountain and took flight. He breathed an enormous billowing plume of blue fire as he did; he passed through it unscathed, and his scales gleamed with a renewed luster afterward. It was his preferred method of bathing.

[smaug-thegolden.livejournal.com]

Hey, if Elric weren't straight as a ruler...

Smaug briefly drew his wings in and followed suit, leaping skyward with an irritated snarl, his wings snapping back out a moment later. Ancalagon's blue fire also scoured his scales clean of the clinging dirt, dust, dried blood and other grime, but did no harm. Thus cleaned, his spinal crest glittered near as much as his jeweled underbelly in the bright sunlight. Just as well that he didn't have to rely on stealth or camouflage for hunting; hadn't needed to for several thousand years, in fact, since around the time he'd reached the size where swallowing horses whole was possible.

Layer by layer, the winds slowly stripped away some of his brooding anger. He experienced such an unrestrained joy in the sky when he allowed himself to, the pleasure of hunting and lounging on his hoard combined. He wasn't in the mood for any of their tired arguments about men and dragons, how he should behave, what he should be doing. It would inevitably lead back to Ancalagon taunting him about 'letting' men have power over him, as so many of their arguments did lately. If he didn't know better, he might have thought Ancalagon was oddly jealous.

"Save your breath," he rumbled and soared past his companion, his long tail lightly brushing along Ancalagon's neck as he spiraled through the air in loose, graceful arcs. Smaug flew beautifully and was well aware of it. "My mind ever returns to that day on the burning field," he said after a while, flying closer to Ancalagon so they could speak together without raising their voices. "Had I reached Arioch but a few moments sooner..."

[mightiest-black.livejournal.com]

At the feel of Smaug's tail slithering across his scales, Ancalagon rumbled a warning and snapped at it, missing on purpose. It would take more than that to truly provoke him at the moment. "Your eccentric pet might then have turned on you," he replied flatly, but allowed his thoughts to return to that day. There was one minor detail that Smaug had always seemed to overlook, as obsessed as he'd become with offing Arioch and having Elric's attention all to himself. That was too straightforward for Ancalagon's tastes. Someone should be made to suffer first.

"What of Arioch's ghostly companion?" he wanted to know. "Raven haired with a crimson mouth." He had noticed Jasper as well, but the vampire had left before Smaug and Elric had even arrived at the field, taking his interesting, lovely little wingless-dragon creature with him. Ancalagon's question referred to Wolfe, whom Harkonnen had attempted to protect, for all to see. That very revealing detail may not lead to Harkonnen's undoing, but if Smaug could be convinced to broaden his thinking and pursue it...

He'd heard it said that grief could be a thousandfold worse than physical agony. It was one of only two ways to kill an Elf's hröa, after all. Arioch was clearly no Elf, but perhaps Men's hearts were not so different.

[smaug-thegolden.livejournal.com]

This was at least a new facet to an old argument.

"The professor of potions at Hogwarts," Smaug answered. "Valentine Wolfe." He had learnt that detail much later, with the aid of his ever obedient Shoggies and a house-elf or two, the latter of whom had seemed curiously terrified at the mere mention of Wolfe. He did not think to include Wolfe's title, just as he never acknowledged Arioch's. They were no lords of his, simply Men who had earned neither respect nor fear from him.

He toyed with the idea of naming himself Lord Smaug. Perhaps he would force others to address him as Your Golden Grace, or else face dragonfire. If slaughtering people and taking their land was what made the lords of Men, why, he was already a lord several times over. Before coming to Hogwarts he had even been King of the Mountain, for none could withstand his might. Until he was outwitted and cheated by a wee Hobbit, at any rate.

His thoughts reluctantly returned to Wolfe, and he admitted, "That one does not concern me." If Wolfe had turned out to be, say, the professor of the Care of Magical Creatures course, Smaug might have been more interested in him, since he might then know a thing or two about dragons, or at least those native to the wizarding world. Might have been someone who could potentially pose a threat. But potions? It was hard to poison a dragon when no substance could survive long enough in their bellies to do much harm, and he was largely immune to magic besides. Arioch's companion was beneath his notice, so long as Wolfe stayed out of his affairs.

[mightiest-black.livejournal.com]

"He should." Ancalagon looked at him sharply. "Or did you fail to notice the way your pet's Patron acted in this Valentine Wolfe's defense when he saw you coming?" His eyes gleamed in the sunlight, and his jaws parted in a toothy reptilian grin as he recalled the scene. Arioch had shoved Wolfe behind himself, and had presumably been aiming for some weak spot on Smaug's head. The eyes, likely. Fools always went for the eyes and mouth. And what an amusing surprise it would have been had Arioch discovered the secret of their third eyelids, which had been made to withstand worse -- such as their own dragonfire. What use would dragons have been to the Dark Lord if they were so easily blinded by lances and arrows?

"That fool Arioch exposed his tender belly to the jaws of a dragon. He handed you power over him. This potential weakness ought to be explored... and exploited, at your leisure."

There could be worse enemies to have than a dragon, that was true. A cunning dragon, for one.

"This Man fancies himself a Patron of brimstone and hellfire, yet only plays at war for his own entertainment and that of his companion. Shall we show them the way of dragons and give them a taste of what real war is?" There was the subtlest emphasis on we. He was not going to give Smaug much say in the matter. It seemed to him that others were not taking Smaug seriously enough, nor showing him the proper respect he deserved, which could not be allowed to stand.