Twenty minutes into the destruction of sweets, and Dio was seriously rethinking the wisdom of allowing four genetically engineered dragon children to devour several bags worth of sugar in one sitting. 

Dio was glad they upgraded the townhouse’s mundane soundproofing with mys-tech solutions, so as not to alert their adjoining neighbors. While their human friend May’s mother in the yellow townhouse next door was more than inured to their antics over the years, the blue house to the right was bought by a hedge fund for short term rentals. Those one or two day visitors were more likely to report noise complaints. 

Dio made a note to improve the visual distortion illusions on the windows as well. They did not want the children to be deprived of the sun while he worked to make contained disguises for them. Dio would not keep their child in the dark simply because he could not keep himself hidden; Dio was more than accomplished enough to keep their child safe under the sun.

For now, they needed to focus on keeping the children from breaking the windows or convincing their neighbors they needed to call the police.

At some point between the third quick freeze cheesecake and the fourth bowl of sour cream frosting, Lamis erupted in orange flames, causing the gravity in the room to… become optional. Little flickers of fire hovered like willowships, budding off of Lamis’s golden scales with every giggle and hug between herself and Moros. Moros himself cackled, bouncing off the ceiling and walls as he was buoyed along by balls of bright orange flame. 

Though Lamis’s nature was fire, she had studied traditional mystics the most out of Dio’s siblings. That meant that her habitual emotionally charged gouts of fire now sometimes contained intentionally disjointed effects within them. 

Dio kept their eyes on the children, ready to reach out with a construct to pull them away from breakable light fixtures.

Icelus seemed content to float along near the carpet, doing gravity-assisted handstands and pushing off of one wall towards the other. He would regularly launch himself at Deimos, who would squawk and hiss and bite at his youngest brother. Icelus would just squeal with laughter and go shooting off again.

Pom was handling Perses decently well, the child just moved around a lot, knocking things over with his tail as he helicoptered around the room. Occasionally Deimos would cross paths with him and then would get into a wrestling match that sounded like they were trying to kill each other, but they fell away again just as quickly, tails whipping like amused cats.

The children adjusted well to the sudden lack of gravity and the flaming dragon in the room. They had been startled at first, and Deimos seemed wary enough to stay away from Lamis for the time being. They weren’t asking questions, which was concerning.

The children were kept in a human facility. Humans did not have access to mystics, outside of carefully guarded family lines. If this wasn’t enough to make them ask questions, what did the PSS have available to them?

Another growling, snapping match started between Deimos and Icelus, the younger giggling and wrapping himself around Deimos. Deimos gnawed at Icelus’ arm, then released him, and Icelus pushed off of Deimos to float back towards the cabinets so he could pull himself downward.

They were like little puppies. Dio mentally added chew toys to the list of belated birthday gifts to give their son. Would he like that? Dio and their siblings all had various chew toys throughout their childhood. Dio still kept several in their desk to stop themself grinding their teeth when they were working on some of their more intensive projects.

Dio looked towards Deimos, and spotted ‘the glint’ in their son’s eye. Dio always wondered what their father Hiroshi meant by ‘the glint’, however seeing it for the first time on a face not his own, Dio could see how such a look could gain notoriety. Deimos made a beeline for the entertainment system, tail lashing behind him excitedly as it propelled him along. His claws flexed against his sides as he finally touched down, spotting exactly what he wanted to take apart. 

Dio pushed off from the ground, orange willowships gathering under their feet as they glided over.  

“Do you want to take it apart?” they asked, catching the wall, so they came to a stop beside the little silver dragon.

Deimos looked up at them. “Would I be allowed?”

“Of course. It is in need of upgrade, in any case.” Dio settled on the ground beside their son, motioning for him to sit beside them on the carpet. “Do you enjoy taking things apart, like machines and electronics?”

“I am trained to take things apart and understand the mechanics of things.” Deimos pulled himself downwards, fingers tapping against his knees.

Dio tucked the little dragon under their arm, anchoring him against their side. He reached into the toolbox portion of the pack he kept strapped on his back over his brace. 

“I see. Do you require any tools?”

“No.” Deimos took the nearest part of the entertainment system, a DVD player, and began picking at the casing with his claws. The delicate ends were the perfect size for fitting into screws to undo them.

“That is very resourceful of you,” Dionysis complimented. They found a screwdriver in their pack, and handed it to their son. “However, tools are also a resource. They can help you take things apart more efficiently. Observe.”

They began unscrewing the bottom from the plastic casing of the player. He of course had power tools, but he could introduce Deimos to those later.

“I wasn’t allowed tools because I stabbed my handler with a screwdriver.”

It was said with the casualty of something that was a daily occurrence, like it wasn’t shocking. Like Deimos was supposed to have done that.

Dio pulled him closer, smoothing down their son’s head crest. “What prompted you to do that?”

“He hurt Perses.” Deimos’ crest settled low, soothed. He picked apart the bed of the DVD player, toying with the screws. “Perses was having difficulty with our training. He was trying to figure out which locks he was supposed to break and my handler would not allow me to help, so he was punished. Then I used the screwdriver.”

The plastic handle of the screwdriver creaked dangerously in Dio’s hand, and they set it down before it shattered. “Did they often hurt you when you failed at your ‘training’?”

Deimos blinked, pausing to look at Dio. 

“Failure is always punished.” His head tilted, confused at why anyone would think it different.

“They had no right to do that.” Dio’s claws dug into the palms of their hands as they clenched into fists. “They had no right to harm you.”

“We are their property.” Deimos’ voice was flat, regurgitating words he must have heard. “We are theirs to control and command, and if we fail, we will be useless, and if we are useless then there is no reason for us to exist.”

Dio’s hands were shaking. “Deimos, may I initiate physical contact with you?”

Deimos looked up at him and nodded, immediately leaning towards him. Pulling the child into their arms, Dio hugged him close. They knew their embrace was not enough to protect Deimos from all the things that would hurt him– Dio had several increasingly deadly layers of security for that– but they wanted to try anyway.

“You are a person, not a thing.” Their voice hissed more than they wanted it to, but they didn’t care. “You are a sentient being. No one owns you.” Dio swallowed. “Though, if you find that a difficult concept to grasp right now, you can be mine. You can be mine, so you know that they do not own you, and they are never allowed to hurt you. No one has the right to harm you, or your siblings. Because you are my child.”

Deimos pressed his cheek into Dio’s chest. “I would like to be yours. I… I want to be yours.”

“Then you are mine, for as long as you wish to be.”

Deimos sighed, then in a sudden surge of movement he wrapped his arms around Dio and held tight. Dio froze. Deimos wiggled closer, burying his face against Dio’s chest. His scales fluffed up to full height, crest flattening against his head. His tail coiled around Dio’s leg, clinging. The ferocity of his embrace knocked them both off the ground, causing motes of orange flame to gather and lift them both a foot off the carpet. 

Dio settled their hands around their son’s back, shifting so Deimos floated against Dio’s chest. They pet over the little wyrm’s crest and down his back. 

“You are safe, Deimos,” they murmured. “I know you do not understand what that means right now, but know you are safe here.”

Deimos opened his mouth, stammered, then closed it. He scrubbed his face against Dio further. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Of course.” Dio nuzzled his head. “Would you like to use the screwdriver to remove the motherboard from the streaming box? I will show you how to attach it to a keyboard, so you do not need to fiddle with a poorly designed single buttoned interface to use it.” Dio pet down Deimos’s back. “Or we can simply float here for a while longer. Whichever you prefer.”

“I would like to take it apart!” Deimos said too loudly, fingers already itching at the air.

Laughing, Dio maneuvered them both back to the floor, brushing aside the willowhisps till they dissipated into sparks. “Then that is what we will do.”

Deimos eagerly grabbed the streaming box and began to pull it apart with his claws.

Dio nudged the screwdriver closer, should he wish to use it. They balanced their hand on their chin, pointing out different parts as Deimos disassembled them and explaining what they did.

“Can I take apart more?” Deimos asked, wrist deep in broken plastic and wires.

Dio grinned, releasing the little dragon to wreak more havoc. “Yes, of course. The kitchen toaster could always use improvement. We can take a look together, if you would like?”

“Yes, Father!” Deimos said excitedly, his tail lashing at the air once more. He was already lunging for the kitchen, though Dio was sure he had no idea what a toaster was. 

That was okay though. Dio would teach him.

…