Dragon's POV
The prophecy. It was a cage built of words, whispered through generations, hammered into the very foundation of my existence. It had haunted me for centuries, a constant, suffocating presence. A burden, a curse, a gilded cage forged in ancient magic, designed to keep me bound and subservient.
The Dragon King, bound to his dragon form by a blood curse, awaiting the arrival of the Fated Consort to break the chains and restore balance to Aerthos. A pretty little fairytale spun to appease the masses, to give them hope in the face of my endless duty.
Bullshit.
I preferred my scales. The rough, cool feel of them against my skin, the power thrumming beneath them. I preferred the roar of wind beneath my wings, the dizzying freedom of the open skies. I certainly didn't need some simpering, carefully bred noblewoman fussing over my hoard – a hoard I rarely even bothered to visit – and whining about the lack of silk sheets in the royal cave. Silk sheets and dragon scales just didn't mix.
But my council, a collection of scheming, power-hungry vultures ever eager to secure their own positions, wouldn't let it go. They clung to the prophecy like drowning men to a piece of driftwood, seeing it as a way to solidify their influence, to manipulate the throne. They'd ramped up the ancient rituals, prodded the dormant magic with their clumsy hands, and forced my hand. I had no choice but to play along with their charade, to indulge their fantasies of a happy ending. It was a necessary evil, a political dance I had to perform to maintain order.
Imagine my surprise – and, frankly, my utter disbelief – when the shimmering, haphazardly constructed portal spat out… her.
Not some delicate flower, carefully cultivated in the hothouse of courtly intrigue, not some doe-eyed ingenue eager to please, but a woman who looked like she'd rather punch me in the snout than curtsy. Clad in strange, clinging fabrics that emphasized every curve of her body, and smelling faintly of synthetic sweetness – something akin to spun sugar and… chemicals? – she was the antithesis of everything I expected, everything I'd been led to believe the Consort would be. She was chaos incarnate, a whirlwind of untamed energy in my carefully ordered world.
And yet… there was something about her. A spark of defiance in her eyes, a stubborn set to her jaw, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath a veneer of sassy bravado. Something… familiar. It was a disconcerting feeling, a sense of recognition that stirred something deep within me, something I hadn't felt in centuries.
I spoke the ritual words, the ancient phrases rolling off my tongue with practiced ease, the power of the old magic humming beneath my skin. "So," I rumbled, the sound deliberately intimidating, designed to cow and impress. "The Fated Consort has finally arrived."
She didn't scream. Didn't faint. Didn't even offer a clumsy, half-hearted curtsy. She just stared at me, her eyes wide with something I couldn't quite decipher. Fear? Confusion? Or perhaps… amusement?
"Uh… hi?" she said, her voice laced with a strange, lilting accent I couldn't quite place. It wasn't any of the dialects spoken in Aerthos. "Is this… part of the game?"
Game? What did she mean, game? Was she mocking me? Did she somehow know that the entire prophecy was a thinly veiled political maneuver?
"You are mistaken," I growled, shifting my weight, letting my wings rustle slightly to emphasize my size and power. "This is no performance. You are in Aerthos. You are the Fated Consort. And you are mine." The words felt hollow, rehearsed, but I forced them out, hoping to project an air of unwavering conviction.
Her eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing beneath her surprisingly expressive forehead. "Mine? Excuse me, Mr. Scaly, but I don't belong to anyone. And I'm pretty sure I didn't sign up for any dragon husbands when I booked this vacation."
Vacation?Dragon husbands?This was getting stranger by the second. What manner of madness was this woman spouting? What "vacation" led someone to my doorstep? This felt like an elaborate prank, or a cleverly orchestrated assassination attempt.
Before I could press her further, to unravel the tangled web of her words, a sharp, agonizing pain lanced through my skull. The curse. It would flare when I was in close proximity to the Consort, a painful reminder of my servitude, of my lack of control. Centuries of suppressed magic, now demanding release, threatening to overwhelm me. The very air around me crackled with untamed power.
I staggered, a guttural roar escaping my throat, a sound that echoed through the forest, scattering birds from the trees and sending shivers down my spine. My vision blurred, the snow-covered forest tilting precariously around me. The pain intensified, threatening to shatter my consciousness.
"What the – are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern, actually reaching out to touch me, her small, delicate hand outstretched towards my massive, scaled form. Foolish mortal. Didn't she realize the danger she was in? Didn't she understand the power I wielded?
I attempted to swat her hand away, but I underestimated my strength compared to her puny size and accidentally swept her a few meters away. The dragon rage bubbling to the surface, threatening to consume me. I needed to get her back to the palace, where the royal healers could assess her… and contain her before she unleashed chaos upon my carefully constructed kingdom. Before the curse completely overwhelmed me.
"Guards!" I bellowed, my voice cracking with pain and exertion. "Seize her! Bring her to the Silver Palace!"
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was her face, a mixture of fear, defiance, and… something else. Something I couldn't quite name.
It was the look of a woman who was about to turn my world upside down. And gods help me, I was starting to think I might actually enjoy it. Or, at the very least, it would be a welcome distraction from the crushing weight of my responsibilities. The boredom alone was enough to drive me to madness. But the Consort… she was a puzzle, an enigma I suddenly found myself desperate to solve. And that was more dangerous than any curse.