Victor

All around me there is chaos. Boyd’s army charges across the plain while within the castle the unprepared defenders screech and howl, some with fear and desperation, and others with anticipation and unquenchable bloodlust. And now, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

A dragon?!

It makes straight for Fion. As the enormous white beast grasps her in its claws and begins to lift away, I hear one of the officers call for crossbows.

“No!” I scream. “You’ll hit the girl! Stand down!”

My order comes too late; the crossbows have already fired. I can do nothing but watch in horror as a rain of black bolts fly from the battlement straight for her unguarded chest. 

But a rush of wind from the dragon’s wings flies in the face of the projectiles, and they stop mid-air before falling uselessly to the ground. The dragon roars, issuing a stream of blue flame from its terrible maw, igniting the archers. I am deaf to their screams and animal howls, my only thought is for Fion who sits in the dragon’s clutches.

Dors Grobeez calls for the gargoyles to attack the dragon. They are stone so they do not fear fire, but their heavy bodies are easily blown back by the dragon’s wings as he beats his way higher and higher into the air.

I scream for Fion in helpless fury; I can do nothing more. In the witch’s territory I cannot shift into my dragon form, so I cannot stop this horror from happening right before my eyes.

My heart sinks as the dragon lifts into the dark clouds over the witch’s castle and Fion disappears from my sight. I feel something grow sick inside me as the realization I’ve just lost her settles in my gut.

I don’t care that Boyd’s army is currently careening at full tilt to storm the castle; I don’t give a damn about defending this place or protecting Mirantha’s interests.

I’m seeing red now; I can think only this.

That bastard took Fion from me.

And for that, I’ll tear out his throat.

Fion

When I woke to find the northern army bearing down on us, I felt none of the fear and panic of these monsters. They’ve made it clear I’m welcome here only as a prisoner; I owe them no allegiance. If anything, I was cheering the invaders when I saw they’d come to rid the island of this awful curse it seems to have fallen under in my long years of slumber. Honestly, I would have destroyed this place myself if not for Victor.

For his sake, I have tolerated this evil for the time being. But I was in no way opposed to watching it be destroyed, and so I left the safety of the tower and moved myself to the parapet for a better view, fearing the attacks of neither side.

Of course, I hadn’t expected the northern armies to bring a dragon.  

I sensed him over the distance, felt him call to me before he ever reached my side. I might have fought him off when he came to take me, but something in me remained perfectly calm when staring down that monstrous creature, and consented willingly to his touch. Without a fight, without even considering it, really, I allowed him to carry me away.

It feels strange, being in another dragon’s claws after being carried by Victor only a few days before. It’s a sensation I never experienced before I fell asleep, flying in this way.

I seem to recall there were such bloodlines still in existence on the island before, though they were ancient and dying out even then. So it is incredible to me that I should meet two shape-shifters in such short succession. 

He is a shape-shifter and not a true dragon, I know that for certain. Last night while I slept at Victor’s side, even over the vast distance, I felt this one calling to me in my dreams, searching for me. And now as he holds me gently in his claws I can sense the joy emanating from him, his relief at having found me. It’s as though he’s saying:

At last!

I permit myself to experience his emotions, but nothing more than this. I consider memories sacred, and will rarely if ever look into anyone’s past without their consent. Even so, I know he is human from the frequency of his feeling. What few ancient dragons I have encountered expressed their emotions very differently from short lived, exuberant humans.

I rest quietly in his claws as the dragon carries me northward over the advancing army. As we fly together I consider Victor, and with a pang I wonder what will become of us now.

That man, that servant of evil, that big, crass barbarian, was he really my true love? Since meeting him I went back and forth several times, with a part of my heart accepting him intrinsically, while another part of me rejected him with my whole being. Last night I told him I still wasn’t sure he was the one, and that sentiment remains even now as we are separated.

I don’t know that I feel any sadness at our parting, or any particular yearning to return to his side. I don’t know that I feel anything at all, except sorry, when I consider the last glimpse I had of him.

That man, usually he looks so gruff and cold; I never would have imagined he could wear an expression like that. The agony I saw in his eyes as I was carried away, the desperation, as though he were watching the very sun be taken from his sky…

It would seem Victor cares for me more than he’s been willing to let on. So what will he do now, I wonder? If he defies all the odds and forces his way through the enemy to reclaim me, will I be forced to consider him again? Or can I write him off now at last? After all, he said so himself, didn’t he? He is not my true love. The only reason he went looking for me, the only reason he kept me by his side and somewhat placated was because of Mirantha.

I don’t know anything for sure. Ever since I woke up, nothing has gone as I imagined it would. And now something even more unexpected has happened. What will become of me now? I wonder as the dragon begins descending in a glade far from the witch’s castle.

Victor, did I say I felt nothing when I left him? I wonder if that’s really true…

Just now, for the briefest moment when I pictured his face, I wonder why I felt just a bit… lonely.

The dragon lands in the grass and he sets me down gently. I take a few steps away from him and he steps back as well, so we face each other directly. His form is smaller than Victor’s, his scales are brilliant white and his eyes are sapphire blue. He folds his light purplish blue membranous wings and bows his terrible head to me.

“My lady. I am Sebastian Shrike, first knight of House Boyd.”

“Greetings, Sir Knight. I am Fion Endellion.”

“Lady Endellion,” he lifts his head and I get a sense of wonder from the beast, as though I were the miraculous creature standing in this glade, and not the other way around. “I pray you will forgive my hasty introduction. I must return quickly to my comrades and assist in our assault on the castle, but I did not wish to leave before properly greeting you, my lady.”

He’s certainly polite, this dragon. Unlike some other fellow I could name…