Vritra had once been a god. Powerful. Magnificent. A serpentine dragon, capable of withering life with a glance. Mortals feared him, worshiped him, begged him for blessings, pleaded with him for mercy.

Now he was a pet. A house snake; a pretty toy for a pretty human. It was humiliating, and yet...and yet.

He hissed softly as he shifted around his human's neck, feeling the pleasant warmth underneath his scales, the soothing rhythm of his human's pulse. He hated how comfortable it felt. Hated the Circle for bringing him low. Hated acting like a common snake, barely able to shapeshift anymore, unable to speak, to command respect. He hated needing to be fed and cared for, hated how weak he'd become.

But this human, who'd found him injured and nursed him, he didn't hate. The feel of the human's fingers against him, the comforting scent, the gentle voice, he didn't hate. This human was special. His. And should the need arise, Vritra would defend his human with his dying breath.

His human's palm reached up to brush over Vritra's scales, and the fallen god shivered. He let his tail wander over the human's collarbone, wrapping loosely around it in a greedy gesture. His forked tongue flicked out, and he pressed himself closer to his human, getting comfortable. His heart thrummed, and for a moment he allowed himself to relax, to bask in his human's affection.

He didn't hate it. Not at all.