They're soaring high above the ocean on their first real flight, the cold winds whipping at his face. Katsuki's kept warm by Striker's scales, which emit heat as always, but also by the padded harness.
This isn't a fucking practice run. This is the real deal, and he wants it to be fucking perfect. He drums his fingers on the position sheet impatiently, but manages to restrain himself. "We're gonna take this shit nice and easy," he mutters to Striker, who rumbles. "Alright, position...three. Wait, fuck, it's four. Position four." He shifts his left foot accordingly, and the tail flares open. They twist into an beautiful fucking arc of a banking turn, and he leans with her, rising off the saddle as they move together. A feeling of elation, strong as hell and as electrifying as a Skrill, pulses through him like fucking fire in his veins, and he looks back to check the tail as Striker pushes into the wind, dipping downwards. He matches her movements quickly, lining up to face their target: an arch of stone rising out of the fucking ocean, as big as he imagines a fucking Bewilderbeast to be.
"It's go time," he whispers under his breath. "It's fucking go time; let's do this shit." Striker roars as they dive; she tilts, one wing slicing through the ocean and sending up spray that fucking chills his face, but does nothing but energize him. "Come on girl, come on!"
They pass through, the maneuver abso-fucking-lutely perfect. He whoops because holy shit it fucking worked fucking gods yes and guides her forward, only to smack into a fucking sea stack. "Fuck," he swears, and Striker growls at him, pupils flicking upwards. "Alright, my fucking bad."
Of course, he manages to drive her into another fucking sea stack seconds later. "My fault, my shitty flying--ow, fuck!" She smacks him with her ear-flap and he glares at her, referring quickly to his fucking cheat-sheet, since he's doing a shitty job of driving without it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. Position...four. Shit, three, position three."
They climb upwards as one, Striker's huge wings flapping up and down as they ascend higher, higher, until the whole of the fucking island is leagues below them. They punch through the clouds as one and he fucking howls with glee. "Yes! Fuck yeah! Go, baby!" Striker shrieks with the raw fucking joy of being in the air again, and he laughs, leaning upwards as if he can fucking push them into the sky. "This is fucking amazing! The fucking wind, the island; is this what you see every fucking time?" he demands, and Striker purrs, her golden eyes brighter than he's seen them in fucking weeks. "We should go flying during the fucking night, no one would see you and it would be fucking---"
And that's when it all goes to shit.
His position-guide is fucking torn from the saddle by the wind, snatched away. Katsuki lunges for it, swearing violently. "STOP!" he roars, more to the sheet than to anything fucking else. He grabs it, of course he does, he reflexes are fucking amazing...but Striker heeds his command.
He goes weightless. The rings connecting him to Striker unhook...and they both start to plummet. "Fuck!" he roars, frantically trying to spin himself upright with explosions. Striker shrieks again, this time in such fucking panic that his heart fucking tears. He manages to pass her, but hits her wing hard and goes flipping into the wind again. "FUCK!" he screams, and this time he's actually fucking scared, scared for himself and for Striker and holy fucking shit they will die. "You've gotta fucking...angle yourself--OW!" He punches himself towards her with explosions even after she accidentally hits him with her tail as she spins wildly, roaring as she tries to get to him.
Katsuki manages to reach her, to latch onto her harness and pull himself into the saddle (fucking barely, too). The cheat sheet is clenched between his teeth, weeks of hard work and research inscribed into the damn thing, but right now he's focused on pulling Striker out of the dive. She pulls open her wings, barely missing the fucking treetops as she tries to slow as much as possible, letting out a warning cry as they plummet towards a fucking maze of seas stacks.
"Fuck!" he screeches, not for the first time, pulling out the sheet and trying to make sense of it. He can't, and so he tosses it away---it'll be worthless as shit if they die here.
There's no time for Katsuki to think, no time to do anything but move. He presses into Striker's back, and their minds dissolve into one. They react purely on instinct, tail shifting as a foot controls it, their bodies moving and fitting perfectly together. They're one in every sense of the word---one mind, one heart, one soul---and they navigate the maze with heart-stopping precision.
As they break free of the fog, they "separate" into Katsuki and Striker again. The dragon rider gasps for breath, exhilarated, before throwing his hands up into the air. "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" he roars.
Striker unleashes a fire blast, mouth pulled into one of her strange smiles, and Katsuki groans as they fly right into the fire. "Oh, fuck me."
--
He blinks, face smeared with soot as he leans against Striker, who's snacking on a pile of fish. The sunlight is warm on his face, the sand of the deserted beach dry and soft.
And he feels fucking amazing.
Striker retches up half of a fish for him, making a purring noise as she nudges him. He snorts, knocking it away. "I'm fucking fine, thanks." He watches a flock of Terrible Terrors wheel towards them like fucking seagulls, snapping at each other. Striker lets out a low snarl, scooping her forelegs around her pile of fish protectively. Katsuki snickers as one of the Terrors snatches up the fish head, only to be shot at by one of the others.
A fish, weirdly enough, pops its head free of the pile. He and Striker follow its movements, perplexed, only for Katsuki to howl with laughter as a fucking sneaky-ass Terror is revealed as the culprit. Striker lunges, latching onto the tail, and rips it out of the smaller dragon's jaws, swallowing it easily. He snorts as she makes a noise almost fucking identical to a laugh, a sort of repeated rumble combined with a hiccup.
The Terror isn't amused. It paws at the ground like a fucking bull on the charge, opening its mouth to shoot a fireball--and gets a spurt of plasma straight to the mouth. It blinks, woozy, before staggering over towards Katsuki, who decides to take pity on it. "Not so fireproof on the fuckin' inside, huh?" he huffs, tossing it a fish. It wolfs it down eagerly, before approaching him and curling into his side like a cat.
Katsuki blinks down at it, convinced more than fucking ever that dragons were not killing machines. "All the shit we think we know about you," he murmurs, petting the Terror, "is wrong."
YOU ARE READING
The Brave Men Rode Them
Fanfic"In front of him lies the Night Fury, the most dangerous dragon in the known world, one that he's felled, the one that could prove that he does have what it takes to kill dragons. But its eyes are open, shining and white-gold, and he sees himself re...
