Summary

The molten heart of the Serpent Spine mountains pulsed like a living thing, its golden rivers casting flickering light across the cavern walls. Crowley lay coiled around Azirapahle, his massive body radiating warmth, their tails twined possessively together. Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s chest, listening to the deep, rhythmic thrum of his heart—a sound like distant thunder, steady and eternal.

Crowley and Aziraphale are in love… and they’re dragons.

Notes

This fic was written for Sexy_Lil_Emo as part of the MoFu Inc first birthday event! I hope you enjoy it my friend.

Thank you so much to contritecactite for their excellent beta work on this fic!!

Our Own Sky

Chapter One

High atop the jagged peaks of the Serpent Spine Mountains, where the clouds burned gold at sunset and the winds carried the scent of molten stone, two dragons circled each other in a familiar dance of courtship.

Crowley, a drake with smooth black scales, his underbelly a red so dark that it almost blended into the rest. His wingspan that cast shadows like a storm. His eyes glowed gold, locked with those of his mate, Aziraphale, whose own blue eyes were a steely blue, his scales like moonlight on snow, shimmering silver. They circled each other, gliding effortlessly through the sky, their roars meeting together like a song. Crowley—guttural and soft. Aziraphale—clear and bright. Both of them—full of longing.

They had been in one another’s orbit for centuries, each subject to the rules of their warring clans, yet delighting in the company of one another. Everyone knew of their strange friendship, would shake their heads at the odd pair, but had resigned themselves to their inseparable connection.

Aziraphale still remembered the first time they had met. Both of their clans considered themselves patrons of the humans who lived within their shared archipelago, and despite their own rivalry, one thing they always agreed on was the protection of their humans. So when the outsiders came, attempting to colonize their subjects, harvest their resources and steal them from their land, the two clans joined forces to drive the humans and their patron dragons out.

Crowley had descended upon the battlefield like a storm made flesh. Where Aziraphale attacked with fire and fury, Crowley was all grace and precision. Aziraphale crushed his enemies beneath his claws, but Crowley was able to outmaneuver them with his impossible speed, using his transformative abilities to adjust his shape and size with an exactitude that Aziraphale could not hope to match. Still, they had fought side by side that day, learned one another’s strengths and weaknesses, and though they had never spoken of that first meeting, it had sparked something between them, a sense of knowing one another that was deeper than a simple alliance, a connection at the root of their instincts.

Once the outsiders were gone the alliance between their clans was broken, but Aziraphale and Crowley continued to meet in not-so-secret, often disguising themselves in human form and meeting among the populace. Despite the fact that their connection was an open secret amongst both clans, they rarely allowed themselves the freedom of connecting in their true forms.

Nevertheless, they had stumbled upon one another, both on the hunt, and could not help but engage in play together as the sun dipped below the horizon. The world was painted in hues of violet and crimson, the setting sun casting a shine upon their scales.

Despite the fact that he knew it might lead to their discovery, Aziraphale still spread his wings and let out a low, rumbling growl, one that, when listening closely, sounded much like a laugh. Crowley answered with a playful flick of his tail, spiralling upward before diving back toward Aziraphale, veering away at the last moment so that their wingtips brushed against one another.

Aziraphale knew that if he had been wearing his human skin he would have blushed as the contact sent a thrill through him, hotter than any flame he could ever conjure.

“You tease me, my dear,” Aziraphale projected his thoughts to the other drake, whose reply was a laugh.

“And you are too slow, Angel.”

Aziraphale lunged after the other dragon, and their chase began. They wove between the mountain peaks, their wings brushing against one another, their roars echoing through the valleys, and the chase became a dance as their hearts pounded in their chests. They had been on many hunts, fought in wars with all manner of creatures, traveled through the realms and nothing, nothing ever matched the exhilaration of coming together. Crowley led their dance higher and higher, to where the air was thinnest, to where the cold bit at their scales.

Then, suddenly, Crowley twisted in midair, halting his flight so abruptly that Aziraphale nearly collided with him, but Crowley simply caught the other drake in his claws, twisting them so that they were now entangled as they flew through the air, their snouts breathing hot air into one another. The sun had given way to the full moon and bright stars, and the brightness of Aziraphale’s eyes drove Crowley ever-deeper into his love. They slowed to a hover in the air, their wings beating in unison.

“Why do you chase me, Angel?” Crowley rumbled, his voice soft in Aziraphale’s mind. “What makes me special among the many dragons you know, that would be acceptable to your clan?”

“Because…” Aziraphale hesitated. “Because when I look at you, I forget that I am of Heaven, I only remember that I am yours, that you are mine, and that together we are us.”

For a moment, the world stood still. The wind died, the distant rivers hushed, and even the stars seemed to hold their breath.

Then Crowley pressed their foreheads together, his scales hot against Aziraphale’s, which had cooled in his anxiety.

“Foolish Angel,” he murmured. “Did you not know? You have owned my sky since the day we met.”

Their tails intertwined as they spiraled down into the molten heart of the Serpent Spine, where they had carved out a home for themselves in the caverns beneath, where rivers of lava flowed. Their bodies curled against one another, their mutual heat a comfort that soothed their united souls.

Our Own Sky Chapter Two

The molten heart of the Serpent Spine mountains pulsed like a living thing, its golden rivers casting flickering light across the cavern walls. Crowley lay coiled around Azirapahle, his massive body radiating warmth, their tails twined possessively together. Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s chest, listening to the deep, rhythmic thrum of his heart—a sound like distant thunder, steady and eternal.

It had been centuries since either of them had engaged with their clans. The two had continued to war against one another, and Crowley and Aziraphale had been living in exile within the Serpent Spine mountains. They were both considered to be some of the most powerful of the dragons, and neither clan wanted to risk the two siding with the other should they attack.

Unfortunately these battles had led to the near destruction of both clans, until only a few were left, and rather than continue to war against one another they had instead decided to live in peace. Especially since the invaders had continued to return, and had begun to adapt to fights with the dragons.

“Do you remember,” Aziraphale murmured, his voice a whisper against Crowley’s scales, “the first time we intentionally hunted together?”

Crowley let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through Aziraphale. “The elk herd in the Valley of TK. You took down three before I even landed.”

Aziraphale nipped playfully at the other dragon’s shoulder. “You were too busy roaring to frighten them. As subtle as a rockslide.”

Crowley growled, but there was no heat in it. “And yet, you stayed to watch me.”

He had. Aziraphale remembered the way that Crowley’s flames had painted the sky, how the earth trembled beneath his weight, how Crowley’s eyes burned like embers when he turned to Aziraphale after the kill. Crowley had a softness to him, when they were alone. He would never admit it to anyone except Aziraphale, but at his core he was kind. He could have snuck up sneakily upon the elk, but had wanted to give the creatures a fighting chance, the ability to escape. He didn’t like hurting others, but did it to survive. It was one of the things that Aziraphale loved most about him.

“I stayed,” he admitted, “because I wanted to see if you would share your prey.”

Crowley snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. “And did I?”

“No,” Aziraphale laughed. “You devoured your entire stag, and one of mine, before having the gall to ask if I wanted the bones.”

Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, his breath hot against the other dragon’s scales. “I was young, and greedy. And I made it up to you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Aziraphale admitted. While Aziraphale had been affronted at Crowley’s acts at first, Crowley had almost immediately apologized, and stolen an ox for Aziraphale, not taking any for himself. Simply watching the other drake eat, captivated.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds the slow drip of molten stone and the distant rumble of the mountain’s breath. Aziraphale closed his eyes, savoring the rare peace. For centuries their clans had warred, with the two of them caught in the middle. But here, in this hidden sanctuary, they were simply Aziraphale and Crowley.

Then, a tremor ran through the earth.

Crowley’s head snapped up, his golden eyes narrowing. Aziraphale felt it too—a disturbance, something wrong.

“The mountain stirs,” Aziraphale said, lifting his wings.

Crowley rose, his muscles tensed. “Not the mountain. Something else.”

A distant roar echoed through the caverns, a sound that was neither dragon nor quake. It was a sound Aziraphale had not heard in over a century.

“They’re back,” he hissed.

—

After the war against the invaders, the dragons had cast a spell over the islands where the humans under their protection lived. The entire archipelago was protected, humans and dragons alike, from outside forces. But over time, as the dragon clans warred, the spell weakened. And the outsiders came back, this time on ships that sailed through the air rather than through the sea. The dragons had pushed them away again, and reinforced the spell with the aid of human sorcerers. The humans began to tentatively trade with the outsiders, exchanging resources through diplomacy and mutual respect rather than colonization and force. But it seemed as though some of the outsiders continued to object, because the airships were back and they were not friendly.

Above the peaks of the Serpent’s Spine, the airships roared, making their way toward the largest island of the archipelago, where the majority of the humans lived.

Aziraphale and Crowley flew to the entrance of their cavern before shrinking themselves down to the size and shape of birds, taking off quickly to the big island. They were there much faster than the airships, which were still some distance away, not even visible. It was only their nature as dragons that had been able to sense their approach. Once they reached the outskirts of the large city that formed the capital, they slowed, circling until they had arrived into the courtyard of the palace, where they morphed once again, this time into their human disguises.

Crowley transformed into a man with dark brown ski, his hair the same dark red as his underbelly, his eyes retaining their golden sheen and slit pupils. Aziraphale shifted to a man with pale white skin, his hair a silvery white, and his eyes a bright blue. They both wore elegant and comfortable clothes, not that there was anyone to see them, as they had cloaked themselves with a spell to prevent others from noticing them. It did not make them invisible, but it did make it so that the second someone turned away they forgot their presence, and even when they were noticed that notice was fleeting, quickly sliding onto something else. This spell was important, because it also stopped anyone from noticing the large wings that sprouted from their backs.

Quickly they made their way through the palace until they reached the quarters of the royal guard, where they shed the enchantment that hid their forms. After providing their warning that the humans should prepare for a land battle, they cloaked themselves again before launching into the sky, intercepting the airships while they still flew above water, rather than land.

The airships’ cannons glowed with an unnatural light.

“They’ve come for us, for our people,” Crowley snarled, his thoughts rattling through Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s eyes locked onto the lead ship, where a lone figure, the leader of the invaders, most likely, or at least their puppet head, stood defiantly. “That will not happen.”

The first blast struck before they were fully prepared—a bolt of crackling energy, forged from stolen and foreign magic. It hit Crowley straight in the chest, sending him spiralling backward. He roared in pain, his scales smoking.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shrieked, diving towards his mate. However, before he could reach him, another blast forced him back. The humans had planned this; they knew how to fight dragons.

Crowley recovered with a furious shake of his head, his eyes blazing. “Enough.”

The word rattled through the minds of everyone within a mile’s reach, as Crowley inhaled deeply, his chest swelling, and then unleashed a torrent of flame so intense it turned the sky white. Two airships exploded instantly, their hulls melting like wax, but the remaining five remained airborne, protected by a shimmering barrier.

Aziraphale joined him, his own breath expelling not fire, but a razor-edged gale, a storm given form. The winds tore through sails, ripping cannons from their mouths, sending some of the invaders overboard and into the sea.

Still, three ships, including the leader’s, remained.

“Aim for the wings!” he bellowed, and before he could react, another blast struck Aziraphale, laced with venomous magic. He shrieked as the pain lanced through him, his entire wing going numb as he spiraled downward.

Crowley was torn between his rage and his need to make sure that Aziraphale was okay. Thankfully, his attention could afford to be split, as the cavalry had arrived. The two of them had few friends among dragons, but nevertheless they did have amicable relationships with some among the younger generation of dragons, who shared their distaste for the war between the clans. Wensleydale had swooped beneath Aziraphale, who, while still in pain, managed to concentrate himself enough to shrink down to a smaller size, so that he may rest upon the younger dragon’s back, where Brian was already waiting in human form. They fell back from the fray as Brian tended to Aziraphale’s wound.

With a speed that defied his size, Crowley closed the distance between himself and the remaining airship. The humans fired again, but this time, Crowley was ready. With a quick thought shared between the three of them, Adam attacked the left ship and Pepper the right, with Crowley heading dead center to overwhelm the primary ship where the leader continued to stand tall, refusing to give in to fear.

With a speed defying his size, Crowley closed the distance between himself and the leader’s ship. The humans fired again, but this time he was ready, twisting in midair, letting the blast sail past him, and then landing on the deck.

The ship groaned under his weight, wood splintering. Humans scattered, screaming, but the leader stood his ground, his sword raised. “Monster!”

Crowley bared his teeth menacingly, projecting his voice into the heads of all of the humans as he snarled. “You dare attack my city, my mate, and our home?”

Before the leader could strike, Aziraphale had returned, descending like vengeance itself, his claws shredding the remaining sails. The ship listed dangerously.

The leader stumbled, his visor cracking as he hit the deck. He looked up just in time to see Crowley’s jaws open above him, the dragon’s left foot digging into his sternum.

“Wait,” Aziraphale’s voice echoed suddenly. Crowley paused, his fangs inches from the man’s face. Aziraphale smoothly transitioned into his human form, though his wings, shining white, still spread out behind him. He stepped forward, his gaze locked onto the leader’s. “Why?” He demanded. “Why attack us now? We have not razed your cities, or hunted your people. Those who live on our islands are peaceful, they have engaged in fair trade alone. We have avoided war for over a century.”

The leader spat blood. “Because dragons are beasts, and beasts need to be put down. Your people are weak, and without the ability to hide behind your kind they would bow easily to our empire.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed. “No,” he said softly. “You attack because you fear what you do not understand.” With a flick of Aziraphale’s wrist and a small miracle, the leader was bound in ropes, and his sword was overboard and into the sea. Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “Let him go.”

“Angel, he tried to kill you.” Crowley growled.

“And he failed,” Aziraphale replied patiently. “Let him return to his people. Let them know that the dragons who inhabit the Islands of wWyrm are not monsters, that our people are not weak.”

Crowley hesitated before stepping back, sliding into his own human form. “Go,” he hissed. “And if you return, I will not be so merciful.” His voice was like water rushing over a craggy waterfall, and rumbled painfully in the leader’s ears.

The leader scrambled to his feet, his bravado shattered. Aziraphale and Crowley spread their wings behind them as they returned to dragon form and lifted off the deck. With a small breath from Aziraphale the sails of all the torn ships were restored, and the Them deposited all of the sailors who had jumped to the sea back onto the remaining ships. Once all members of the crew were recovered, the fleet fled into the clouds. The leader cast one, final, terrified glance back at the dragons who watched them go.

—

Aziraphale and Crowley rested together on a high ledge of the Serpent Spine mountain, watching as the Them played together in the valley below. It was nice to see the young dragons bond happily, despite coming from different clans. A new generation free of the biases of the one before it. Aziraphale’s wing, still recovering from its injury, was stretched carefully. Crowley’s gaze was fixed on the horizon as he sat by the other dragon’s side.

“You were right to spare them,” Crowley admitted grudgingly.

“I know. It was just as much for you. I don’t think you would have been happy with yourself once you had escaped the clutches of your rage.”

Crowley huffed. “You know me too well.”

“That I do.” Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “They are such arrogant creatures though,” he sighed.

“They all are,” Crowley hummed. “But they are also fragile. Short-lived. As you said, they fear what they cannot control.”

They both fell quiet, simply watching the younger dragons as they raced. The silence was not uncomfortable, but familiar, born out of centuries of connection. “I really would have burned the world for you today.”

Aziraphale turned his head, pressing their snouts together. “I know,” he whispered into Crowley’s mind. “But the world is not our enemy. Only those who do not know us. And our world is worth protecting.”

The two dragons curled together in the twilight, watching as the stars began to emerge. They were bound not just by love, but by something deeper.

A promise.

A future.

A world and a sky they would always share.