Khora's eyes fluttered open to the sight of a mostly repaired tower wall. Her head throbbed as she remembered what happened earlier. Vogaix⦠last she saw her knight was okay. Slepna and Kurma were still fighting when she⦠ran into the forest. Morgan. Oh gods, Morgan. The only person who ever told her about her mother, and she died. She was stabbed. The princess put her palm to her eye and wiped some tears away. Morgan saved her life. She slowly pushed herself up and looked around the room. She was in her room, the floor and walls had been mostly cleaned up from Fenrir's attack. The princess rubbed the top of her head and groaned, her head had a slight indent in it. Just how hard did that knight hit her?
Khora's thoughts were interrupted by a stone being pushed against the tower floor. "Heard they got ya," Alaric's voice echoed past the walls, "Honestly, I was hoping to get in here before you woke up. Always a fan of dramatic timing." The bastard prince dragged himself into the room, his gloved hands digging into the ground.
"Oh," Khora looked at the prince, despite his pathetic position he was managing to keep himself graceful, "Where does that lead?"
"This?" He patted himself down as he looked at the hole he crawled from, "The walls. This castle is quite⦠spacious."
"How'd you get the rock loose?"
"Doesn't matter, princess," Alaric leaned up against the wall and ran a gloved claw through his hair, "How is Vogaix?"
"Last I saw she was fine⦠fighting with Phillip."
"That Merlean pig probably couldn't fight to save his life. She'll be fine," The bastard-prince paused, and Khora could swear she saw some worry in his eyes, "Good."
"Funny you should ask about her. She didn't quite seem to remember you." Alaric's eyes twitched, and he squeezed his hands together.
"Sure she didn't," The bastard prince pulled a coin out of his jacket and played with it absent mindedley, "And you, princess? Are you okay?"
"I-" Khora paused and looked at the prince. He didn't actually care, did he? "I'm fine."
"No, you aren't. You haven't learned not to lie to me yet, Khora?" He snickered to himself, "Even your⦠oh so pleasant father has learned that. Though that does not stop him from⦠not revealing things."
"That certainly sounds like himâ¦" Khora looked over at her jewelry shelf, spotting her mother's ring. It was about time she put it on. She would have to do her mom proud.
"Oh," Alaric sat on the bed as Khora walked over to the ring, "About that⦠creature in the walls. I figured out what it is." His voice was interrupted by locks being turned on Khora's door. The half-dragon prince slipped under Khora's bed.
Her door creaked open, and a prosthetic leg stepped through. "Princess," Phillip's voice echoed through the room, empty of emotion. The Merlean prince stood in the doorway, a bandage wrapped around his upper left arm, which was now a stump. "What a joy to see you alive and well." He smiled another empty smile as he closed the door.
"What a horrid experience seeing you alive and well," The princess gave a quick retort as she adjusted the ring against her skin, "Or⦠not well, but at least alive." She felt a smirk slip onto her face while she gazed at Phillip's injuries.
"Ah," He walked towards the princess slowly, flicking a knife in between his fingers, "So you're still like that?" Khora gulped and grabbed for one of her jewelry boxes. The prince's eyes flicked at her, and his remaining hand quickly threw the knife at her, she felt it cut one of her hairs as she heard it fly past her. "No hitting me this time, beautiful," He bent down to pull another knife out of the metal of his leg, "I have you all to myself." The Merlean licked his lips and stepped towards Khora. He put the knife against her leg, pushing the fabric into her skin, she felt her leg get slightly wet with blood as he approached her face with his own. The princess tensed up as the hair on the back of her neck stood up upon feeling his warm breath on her skin. She curled her hand into a fist and flexed her arm, ready to punch him. Before she could, she heard her door creak open again as another voice entered their room.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Alaric's voice stopped Phillip's approach, and he turned around, an annoyed sigh escaped his lips.
"What do you want, Alaric?"
"Well," He coughed, clearing his throat, "The king wanted to speak to Khora when she woke, and I noticed that the door was unlocked. If you two want to continue, I can leave."
"No!" Khora pushed her way past Phillip, who pulled the blade out of the dresser and sighed, "We wouldn't want to keep my father waiting, would we?"
The two walked down the hall together as Khora played with the ring on her finger. It sat slightly loose, her hands were still smaller than her mother's, but it felt right to have it on. "I wasn't lying about your father. He did want to see you."
"I figured he would." The pair walked in silence, the echoes of Merlean guests and servants echoed through the massive halls, "And um, thanks, Alaric."
"I may not like you," He let out a soft chuckle, which was echoed by Khora's own, "But I could never let someone⦠violate you like that. Much less that Merlean pig."
"I hate you too, Alaric." She smiled past a wince of pain, "I hope not all Merleans are like him. When I become queen, I am going to have to meet with them quite a lot."
"When I become king, I will make sure to rescue you from their kingdom." They reached the throne room door, and Alaric paused with his hand on the handle, "Good luck. We should talk later."
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Fenrir's eyes opened to a soaking wet and burnt clearing. Kurma was pouring some of her blood into the glass-dragon's eye, or at least what remained of it. "Emerald-kin," Fenrir spoke softly, his head throbbed in pain, "Stay away from my blood. It is not safe." Kurma jumped and slipped off of his head, landing on her hard shell. Most of her skin was covered with multiple layers of leather, some of which had Fenrir's blood staining it.
"I know," Kurma struggled to get herself up, to which a half-centaur helped her, "I'm not stupid." She immediately looked down, her posture becoming apologetic, "Sorry. That was rude."
"I understand, child," Fenrir looked around, many of the half-humans were helping clean the place up, but there were many bodies littering the ground, and many of the hills had collapsed, "Where is Morgan? I wish to discuss what to do with her."
"Morgan isâ¦" The half-human nodded behind Fenrir solemnly. The dragon turned his neck around, his vision adjusted to the lack of an eye to see a knight knelt over the old woman. Its long hair was hanging down, and the dragon could swear he heard it crying. Morgan had a spear through her chest. The glass-dragon felt his heart begin to beat faster as his breath-sac began to churn on its own.
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"Human!" He shouted at the knight knelt over Morgan's body, "What did you do!" The flame of anger in his belly lit a flame in his breath-sac, causing smoke to escape from his mouth. He landed on the knight, it looked up at him with sadness and regret in its eyes. His blood splashed on the burnt ground beneath it as more flame churned in his mouth. "Why did you kill her?"
"I didn'tâ¦" The knight stuttered out its words slowly.
"Then what did you do?"
"I didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't want anyone to die. I'm sorry."
"The kingdom you're so loyal to loves killing any who are not like them. I'm sure you would have been fine with killing me, as well."
"I didn't know you were any more intelligent than a dog!" Tears of water began to stream down the knight's face, "I'm sorry. Just⦠just kill me, please."
"Gladly. You humans are monsters." Flames crawled up his throat as he pushed down on the human's chest, before the dragon was able to burn her, he felt a small claw on his leg.
"Fenrir," Vogaix looked at him, a clear anger in her eyes as well, "This isn't what Morgan would've wanted." He looked between his daughter and the knight underneath his claws. It would be so easy to burn this little parasite down to its bones. That's all it would deserve for killing Morgan. For helping take away his heir's⦠partner.
"It killed Morgan! It killed the one creature still in this country I could speak my own language with. It killed the woman who raised you!" The anger in Vogaix's eyes flickered as she looked at the knight underneath his massive claws.
"But she also feels terrible for it, father." She squeezed her claws against Fenrir's scales, "And wouldn't it be helpful to have another fighter on our side? As of now we only have me, Slepna, you, and Kurma. Morgan would want us to forgive her. She clearly doesn't harbor any hatred for any of us here."
"Just kill me already!" The human gripped Fenrir's claws as it's tears fell thicker, "Please? I can't face my family again. Not after killing her."
"See, Vogaix?" Fenrir smirked as the dripping blood slowly slowed down, "Even she wants to die,"
"But I don't want her to. Please?" As he looked at his daughter, the fire of hatred was replaced with guilt. Not only guilt, love. He loosened his grip on the knight and backed up slightly. What was wrong with him? The flames in his throat died down as the knight began to run towards him.
"Please? Kill me, dragon." Slepna galloped towards it and picked it up, causing the human to immediately curl into the centaur-dragon's chest, its cries echoed through the forest. It was⦠pathetic. But Fenrir could not say he did not understand. Soon after his family was burnt, all he wanted was to charge into the city and let the kings men kill him while he took as many down as possible.
"Thank you, Fenrir," Vogaix took her claws off of the dragon and sighed, "She'll be able to help us. Besides, if she refuses to, I'd rather be the one that kills her. She was my mom after all."
"That makes sense," Fenrir smiled as he looked at his heir, the hatred in her eyes dulled slightly by her remembrance of her time with Morgan, "You really are my daughter."
"I-" Vogaix paused, her wings curled into her body, "You should go back to your cave. Or help us rebuild. Not that you'd actually do that." Fenrir thought for a bit, flapping his wings softly in the air. The rip in his wing flapped against the wind and he winced slightly. That would take a while to heal, especially without proper care.
"I suppose I'm walking back to my cave."
"Oh, sir dragon," A half-lamia crawled up to the dragon, a carrying case made of leather wrapped around its chest, "Can I take care of that for you?" It pulled out some of the same things that Morgan had used to care for his wounds earlier.
"Fine," He sat down, lowering the wing down to the legless human, giving it access to his wound, "Make it quick." It did the same routine as Morgan, though it seemed to stumble through it more than Morgan did. Perhaps this creature was new to this kind of thing. It did seem to know more than Fenrir expected it to, though. It was nice, being treated like this.
"All done," The half-lamia rubbed against the wing softly and nodded proudly, "Thank you for your help, sir dragon. Oh! And I wouldn't recommend flying for a while."
"Don't thank me quite yet." He looked around at the crowd of humans, all of them either helping the wounded or picking up pieces from their old homes. "Vogaix. Could you gather everyone together? I want to lead them to my cave." Vogaix looked at her father, shock filled her eyes, "It could be useful to have everyone close," His eyes flicked away from hers, "Given what we are planning to do soon."
"I'd love to, Fenrir! Thank you." She rushed to everyone, pointing towards the dragon.
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Boran knocked on the Cobbe's door, he had a hood up, and his armor hung loose on his frame. Jacob opened the door, his pupils were large, and his eyes had dark bags underneath them. He looked as if he had not gotten proper sleep for days. "Jacob," Boran pushed past the man to the house. Most of the windows were closed, and the only light in the room was that that shone in through the door, "It's been a while. How have you been?"
"I," The old man shook his head and looked at Boran in shock, "I've been wonderful." His words slightly slurred together.
"Lovely," Boran searched through the house, opening each door to dark, empty rooms. Nobody was in any of them, and the kitchen had dirty dishes strewn across the floor. An eerie silence fell upon the home, "Is YaÄmur here?"
"YaÄmur?" The little bit of light in the home illuminated the man's eyes, and they flicked to a door that Boran hadn't checked yet, "I haven't seen him, no." Boran stepped towards the door, his eyes shone brightly in the darkness, the only reminder of his dragon heritage left, "There's no reason to go in there sir Boran," He stepped in between the knight and the door, sweat beginning to form on his brow.
"I'm sorry, Jacob," Boran lifted up the man, who was by no means small, but was significantly smaller than the knight himself. He opened the door to YaÄmur and Jasmine laying on top of each other in the darkness on a bed. There were small cups laying on the bed.
"Pa?" YaÄmur rubbed his eyes and squeezed Jasmine tighter, she seemed to be entirely out of it, her eyes were open but staring at the ceiling. "Pa! This isn't what it looks like, I swear!"
"You think I didn't experiment before marrying your mother? I don't care. What I do care about," He lifted up one of the glasses and sniffed at the residue inside it. Glass-dragon blood. Of course that beast was up to something, "Is this. Where did you get this? Was it from Malachi?"
"I don'tâ¦" His son stroked a hand through Jasmine's hair softly, "I got them from him, yeah. Can we⦠can we talk about this later?"
"No, we're talking about this now." YaÄmur looked at Boran sadly as his slightly bright eyes dilated wildly, "You need to-"
"Please, Pa?" The massive man felt a pang in his heart at his son's pleading voice, and he carefully sat on the bed.
"Okay, son. In the morning." Boran sat in a chair as his son curled up against Jasmine. He sighed, sitting there in the dark with his mind wandering. Malachi must be working with the beast. His⦠grandmother must be. He never liked her, always hated everything he heard about her, but the fact that she could infect her own great-grandson with this⦠addiction? More monstrous than that beast that is supplying its own blood. He had to get his son off of this blood. He had to get the entire city off of it. But he would start with YaÄmur and the Cobbes. The man stared at the glass and rotated it in his hand. This glass would not be able to hold that much blood, and it had such an effect on these kids. Boran stepped out of the room and called out into the house, "Jacob? Where is Hazel? Saffron and the other children? And Hazel's mother as well?"
"Hazel's mother died soon after the dragon attacked," Jacob trailed off and scratched at his own arm, "The missus and other kids are sleeping," He gestured to a door across the hall, "I'm sorry for lying about your son, Sire."
"Not a Sire anymore, just an old man. The king didn't keep me as a knight."
"I am sorry for that, tooâ¦"
"Not your fault. Tell me, Jacob," Boran leaned down, putting a hand on the man's shoulder, "Are you taking this as well?" He held up the glass, remnants of the blood still stained the inside. Jacob stared at the glass, wiping a bit of drool from his mouth.
"You," He shut his eyes tightly and dug his nails into his palms, "You must understand, Boran. It's⦠it takes away the pain, every bit of it. Mental, physical, emotional. It's⦠heavenly. You must try it."
"Do you have any more?"
"YaÄmur went out to get some, but only came back with that. Him and Jasmine used all of it earlier. W-would you be able to get us some more?"
"I'll see what I can do," He smiled softly, a soft pang of guilt stung his heart. He hated lying to Jacob like this. But he had to figure out a way to get them to stop taking it. They weren't taking care of themselves, or the house. The former knight began to clean some of the dishes His eyes flicked over to Jacob, who was sleeping in a chair, his entire body shaking. Boran would kill his grandmother. They clearly weren't the only family experiencing this. This blood brought nothing but negatives. The man jumped as a plate snapped in half in his hand, the other half falling to the bottom of the bucket of murky water that held the dishes. He growled softly as the sun began to slowly rise.