the silver dragon: 2/3; defenseless - 1232 words

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Nathaniel stumbled into a halt, as the two large grunts tossed him into a dead end. The red brick wall seemed endless. The opening to the sky above looked smaller than the eye of a needle. The dragon turned around to face his captors. The strange man walked under his goons raised arms. The three figures blocked the way out.

Nathaniel examined the man through a squint. His demeanor was disgustingly proud, the short top hat on his head shadowing his fiery gaze. The large hoops on his ears drew the dragon's attention. They felt familiar, the shade and hue of their golden surface prickling the back of his mind like a hazy memory. The man stepped forward. His black shoes tapped the asphalt under them with a few audible knocks, their sound echoing upwards in the alley. He was shorter than Nathaniel. Human-sized.

 

"Is hatchling a familiar term to you?" The man's voice was almost piercing, freezing like a block of solid ice with something hostile. Nathaniel's brow crinkled, as he tried to understand where such a question could stem from.

"Yes?" The dragon's elongated tone was saturated with suspicion. The man scoffed at his reaction with a dark smile.

"And what is its definition?" It was another strange question. Was he asking to find something, or was he actually an imbecile?

"What do you mean?" Nathaniel couldn't comprehend such obvious questioning. His opposition wasn't pleased with his answer, resulting in a bitter snort.

"Answer me," he spit through gnashed teeth. Nathaniel shook his head, confused.

"What does that have to do with any-"

 

"ANSWER ME, YOU WRETCHED DRAKE."

 

Nathaniel's whole figure flinched as he was silenced with an insult. A wingless dragon, the man called him. A dragon that wasn't a dragon. He realized it now. This man was no human. His eyes alone should've told him that. No man would throw around such slurs.

 

"What hex do you carry?" Nathaniel asked him, face painted with disbelief. Another dragon. Here. Was he really not alone? Did he even yearn not to be?

The man's eyes widened for a moment, until he burst into mocking laughter.

"A wyrm like you would not understand, would you? Not everyone is shifted by force." He walked over to Nathaniel, looking up to his pale eyes. Their height difference was stark.

"Now," the man ended one topic to continue another, "that definition."

Nathaniel's gaze narrowed. He took a step and a half backward.

"A young dragon," he finally replied. The man's eyes widened. After so much unclear emotion, Nathaniel could now read him like an open book.

 

That unspeakable thing was ire.

 

"Exactly," the man hissed. Nathaniel backed away from him, as the shoulders of his coat started to smoke. For the silver dragon's misfortune, his back was quickly pressed against a wall. He watched in envious terror as the man shifted shape in front of him. From such puny form, rose another of his own kind. Its red hide was stained with black and gray, the ventral side of its large wings almost screaming in their simple existence through their vibrant shade of maroon. Two rows of curved spikes decorated its neck and tail, three upward horns holding a strange orb as their hostage.

 

And its long, pointy ears held gold pierced through them, one large ring on each ear. Nathaniel recognized him. He was a lowly shaman, branded with golden jewelry to ruin his imperfect frame even more. He was defective from the moment he hatched, his gait limping and one-sided, forced upon him by his deformed feet.

 

"And you took such life as if it was a toy to break!" The shaman's voice boomed in the narrow space, his pitch lowered by his altered form.

"Just so you could bring down the whole kingdom!"

 

That wasn't the reason. That wasn't even remotely in the order things went - but Elryss was notorious for the way he twisted the truth to fit into his own agendas. While he acted exactly the way any high ranking dragon would've, his caste was too low for such behavior to be accepted inside the kingdom's walls. Still, he was useful, which made his punishment like a kick in the teeth for those that suffered a more cruel fate. A permanent, slight disfiguration was nothing compared to the things his fellow scale-hides had to endure.

 

And because of that, he didn't stop there.

 

"How dare you to blame me for bringing the kingdom to its knees!" Despite being the underdog, Nathaniel had no intention to just swallow false accusations - such was a dragon's pride.

"You attempted to poison the crown! You tried exactly the same!"

The red and black dragon lunged forward, and grabbed Nathaniel by his superficial harness.

"This has nothing to do with me, serpent," he fumed at the white dragon, his breath thick and sparkling as fresh smoke, "this is about your audacity to snuff out the brilliant flame of MY DAUGHTER."

 

Nathaniel's pale eyes widened in horror. Fuck.

 

Being as harshly monitored as a low caste dragon could be, Elryss wasn't one to draw in the attention of the opposite sex. Instead, he took a hatchling under his wings - which was quite dreadful, considering his manipulative behavior.

 

And Nathaniel killed her. In his rage and self-hatred, he twisted her neck until it gave in, and snapped. He had only asked the youngling to speak something he could understand. Not a single word that came out of her small jaw made sense to him.

 

It was rash, and it was stupid. Only decades later, he started to realize that the curse was the one to blame. It hadn't just stripped him of his wings and his form, but nearly everything that made him a dragon. Among many other things, it had stolen his ability to understand and speak dragontongue.

 

And Nathaniel was sure that hatchling was the absolute last survivor alongside him. He thought he had buried the kingdom into its own ashes.

 

How could he be so wrong?

 

It was like Elryss' eyes could've spit embers around them, as he watched Nathaniel's expression change. The silver dragon finally realized what he had done. The dragon in his most beautiful form opened his jaw, but no insults flew out. His blazing gaze shifted downward, nailing itself onto Nathaniel's chest.

 

The gold he carried.

 

Rage cut through the dark dragon's long visage like a scalpel.

"And you have the insolence to stride around with gold..." He yanked Nathaniel upward, closer to his face.

"PILLAGED FROM THE SACRED TEMPLE!" Elryss flailed the hexed man in his grip like a wet rag. The leather straps snapped under his weight and momentum, and Nathaniel landed on the asphalt, back first. The dark dragon opened his maw, smoke rising from his throat and nostrils like someone had opened the flood gates.

 

Then suddenly, he snapped his jaw shut. The smoke stopped.

"I should have you executed," Elryss seethed at Nathaniel, who groaned on the ground in pain, "but why would I ever do that? Death is only the easy way out. No suffering, no endless torture. You are not worthy of such luxury."

The silver dragon lifted his eyes to the royal reptile looming above him. The way Elryss looked at him made his stomach turn. The red dragon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

 

"Remove his horns."

 

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