Chapter Text
There is a village, near a mountain region, or rather it is in a mountain region, by the foot of a great mountain, that is a supposedly the neighbour of a giant monster-snake. Now, it’s mostly just a rumour because the villagers never seek out any aid to be rid of the creature, and any village which is so close to a monster would ask for aid in getting rid of said creature, yes? And the ones spreading the rumours are mostly bandits, and how trustworthy are they? Liars, thieves, rapists and killers, what good is their word? So if there truly is a monster snake in the mountain region, then it truly is left well enough alone.
Or, well, mostly alone.
“Adam!” It’s more of an annoyed, loud hiss, than a yell, as a scaly tail wraps around a young child dangling off a rather frail branch high off of the ground. The boy laughs loudly as he’s bring brought back down to safety, running his hands over the warm scales wrapped around him. Black as the darkest night, though there is some red in there somewhere too.
“I’ve told you, don’t climb too high.” He stares up into the yellow eyes of a giant snake, grinning at the look in the creature’s eyes which can somehow be translated as the creature being quite annoyed with the boy.
“But you’ll always bring me down safely, snake-man!” The boy yells and the creature hisses in what is clear annoyance, tongue swiping the air in front of it as it leans closer, pupils thinning.
“Sssssshould jusssst let you fall and hit your head, would sssssserve you right.” The snake says, coiling tighter around the boy in warning, before letting him go. The boy returns to his group of friends, who all whisper together loudly, yet not loud enough that the snake can hear every word they utter. The snake, if it had eyelids, would have narrowed its eyes at them in suspicion. They are plotting something, at it will most likely end in another headache for the snake. Before they can act out on whatever it is they are planning, a voice calls out.
“Adam! It’s time for dinner!” The children slouch their backs, and the snake nearly sighs in relief when Adam’s father, Arthur, comes up the path, carrying a sack.
“But dad!” Adam whines, loud and voice so light in pitch the snake almost winces. Arthur though, levels the children with a stern look and they give up, trotting down the path to their village.
“They weren’t too much trouble, I hope?” The man asks as he deposits the sack in front of the snake.
“No more than usssual.” The snake answers, and the man chuckles, although nervously. He may not be afraid of the snake, as it has never once been a threat to them, but it is still a rather curious and scary thing to stand before a giant of a serpent. Even if it has been docile towards the village for as long as it has resided in the mountain.
“Ah, well, children you know.” He says, wiping his hands over his shirt.
“Indeed. I’m usssed to it.” It makes the days go by faster for the snake, that much is true. And it’s nice with company every now and then, even if it complains about being bothered by the children. It’s all just for show, really. It enjoys playing, it enjoys the company, it enjoys not being alone. And the children come up with the most amazing games and stories.
“Right.” Arthur says. “I’d best get back too. Off I go, Master Snake.”
“Off you go.” The snake says quietly, watching the human disappear after the children, before it bites into the sack and brings it back to its cave. There, the giant beast coils together, before slowly changing, tail splitting and forming two long legs, an upper body emerging from the scales, and its head growing bigger and the scales melting away. A tall, lanky redhaired man stands in the abode, the sack in his hands.
“It’s Crowley.” He whispers to himself, sighing. A hundred years he’s been here, but no one uses his name even when he tells them upon meeting for the very first time. In an attempt at not forgetting his name, Crowley has taken to remind himself at least once a day. It’s not the same as having someone else use it, but it’ll probably be the only instances his name will be used as long as he stays here, playing the monster snake of the mountain. Humans don’t like shapeshifters much these days. Bad omens, they say now. Best to get rid of them all. Crowley has exactly one sibling left of his litter, and she is half a world away, according to her recent letters, their recent dreams. He misses her. She’s better at socializing with humans than him, and Crowley wishes he was like her in that regard.
Maybe then he would feel safer about going around, being human. Living hundreds of years and not trusting himself to blend in is truly pathetic.
Still, it’s not so bad here. The villagers believe him to a be a non-hostile monster snake as long as they’re not hostile towards him, and they bring him food and supplies once a week. It’s not so bad. It could be much worse. He could be actively hunted, instead of living rather peacefully here in his mountain. He eats the meal Arthur has brought him, and Crowley admits that he enjoys the humans cooking. A hundred years, and Crowley have never felt so lonely in his life. Children come and play, sure, and the humans bring him food and exchange a few pleasantries, but there’s no more than that. No one’s close, no one is his friend.
But one does what one has to, to survive. And Crowley likes living. Big fan of living, him.
And besides, this is a poor mountain village. Or, it was poor back when he first settled down a hundred years ago, what with all the raids happening back then. There aren’t so many anymore, and that’s probably because of Crowley appearing so vicious and terrifying to any raiders. Speaking of which, there’s been some time since the last time there were any attacks. Another one will probably happen soon, they always do. But Crowley prides himself on being able to sniff them out rather early, so the man finds his furs and collapses onto them.
Playing with the humans offspring takes more out of him than fighting ever has. At least bandits and thieves are predictable, children, not so much. They can run off in all kinds of directions without a moments notice.
Crowley sleeps well that night, the hot summer air keeping his cold-blooded body warm. A few more days pass, everything is quiet and peaceful, and Crowley is lounging in the sun in his snake form, soaking in the warm rays. That’s when he feels it, the faint trembling in the ground.. He lifts his head lazily, before he slithers quickly down the path with a hiss. The closer he gets to the village, the louder the sound of thundering hooves grows.
The oncoming enemies force their way into the village, shouting, sneering, laughing and waving their swords and causing a ruckus, waiting to see the villagers panic and run, though they quite quickly realize that the villagers are just looking at them dumbly. Arthur Young approaches them, his pipe in his hand, and the bandits find it a bit peculiar that he doesn’t look at all afraid.
“Might I inquire why you gentlemen have come here?” With just one look at the group one can see that they are as far from gentlemen as they ever can be, but Arthur is unfailingly polite.
“Your riches and your women.” One of the bandits command, a smirk on his face as he tries to make stock of the situation.
“Ah, a group of bandits.” Arthur says to himself, as if it isn’t clear enough just by looking at them. “Well, riches we don’t have, so that is a bust. As for our women, that is a hard no from all of us. I suggest you leave, soon as you can.” There’s a series of agreeable murmurs in the crowd behind him, and the bandits scowl.
“You’re a real jester, old man.”
“Old?” Arthur looks positively offended as his face twists a bit.
“But you don’t get a say. We’re not leaving empty-handed!” The bandits shout.
“Stupid bandit!” Adam yells from where he is standing with his group of friends. “Snake-man will chase you away!”
“Snake-man?”
“There’s a rumour.” The one who appears to be the bandit chief speaks up. “Of a giant snake lurking in the mountains. It ain’t real, it’s just a rumour to scare people away. Monster snakes aren’t real.”
“Aren’t I?”
The group turns around, and pales at the sight of the serpent huge enough to swallow their horses whole.