The Dragon's Beating Heart
"Without adversity and trials we may never know what we are capable of."
Lailah Gifty Akita
1st June 1952…
There was emptiness. And silence, except for the beating waves of the beach. The water sparkled blue, reflecting the cloudless skies above, save for the white frothing waves that crashed onto the light golden sand. Shells and even bits of coral were scattered about, along with a few strands of seaweed. Barnacles on boulders. Nothing odd.
There was a loud sharp Crack. In a swirling blur of movement two wizards dropped onto the sand.
They immediately stood, alert and watchful.
One wizard snarled. He was feral in terms of his teeth. His hair was black, and his eyes green. He was thin, the same was a stick is thin, but a knotted stick, as he seemed to be hunched in an attack position- if he was an animal, his teeth would be bared and his hackles would have risen.
The other wizard, stood tall and calm. He was black-haired- a deeper black than the other, and it was somewhat neater, though tangled and falling casually but elegantly about him, strands blown by the sea-breeze. His eyes were a piercing, deep blue, so intense that anyone would have been unnerved or awed. His features were elegant- fair skin, an angular face, with high, chiselled cheekbones, and a sculptured, straight, slim nose and a sensitive mouth. Right now, he was glaring icily at the other man with something that spoke of determination and nothing less than courage.
After a silence, he then spoke. "Stop at once, Parkinson."
Parkinson snarled, but it was clear he was trying too hard. He was seriously afraid of the other man, but was trying hard not to show it.
"I will not stop. Nothing will end with my death. The Dark Lord will rise, I promise. And we will defeat them all."
"The Dark Lord is gone," the other man said. "Grindelwald lies, rotting in the same prison-fortress that he built. None can claim the title of Dark Lord, and no one ever will."
"You're wrong," Parkinson tried to sneer. "Soon another will rise, stronger and more powerful than Grindelwald had ever hoped or dreamed to be. He will cleanse the world of mudbloods and their filth, and they shall never trouble us again."
The other man's eyes narrowed. "He will fail. And so will you. Now stand down."
Parkinson froze and twitched, barely noticeably. That was the only warning the other man got, before Parkinson whipped out his wand and shouted, "Avada Kedav-"
But he never got to finish. His opponent's bare hand whipped out and Parkinson's wand went flying through the air. Startled, Parkinson looked back to where his wand had gone, and would have run, if his enemy had not made a swiping motion, this time, with his wand.
He tripped and rose several feet in the air, before plummeting down like a comet and being pinned to the ground.
"It's over," he snarled coming over to his felled opponent. Parkinson flailed weakly, but found that he couldn't.
"You will not stop us," he wailed. "Then perhaps we will destroy what you have fought for," the victor said calmly and icily.
And with that, the fight was ended. And Rhaegar Artrigos stood icily watching his opponent.
Kataris City- unplottable and hidden in Germany…
"It's over," Someone snapped. Rhaegar looked up and saw Harald snarl that word. "They just have yet to accept it."
"No, it is not over," Rhaegar said. "The fact that they are willing to die, still signifies that there is something to fight for. Or someone."
Everyone turned to him.
Rhaegar stood in the war council room, only his profile was visible to the others, due to the dim lighting and the fact that he was turned from them.
"You have something to say, Commander?" Harald asked icily.
He turned slightly to them, tilting his head. "Yes," Rhaegar said. "They were willing to die. And so it is not over."
There was a stunned, and shocked silence. Before Harald pounded his fist against the table, making everyone, but Rhaegar jump.
"Grindelwald's era is over!" He yelled at the ignoring commander. "The Dark Lord lies rotting in a fortress, his wand stripped from him, his powers broken. No more can he take strength and manipulate others to do his bidding. No more can he try and conquer the world! His time is gone for good!"
"Maybe," Rhaegar scoffed. "But only him."
Everyone visibly tensed. "What do you mean, Rhaegar?" A witch named Rosana asked. Rhaegar turned to her.
"Isn't it obvious? When I questioned Parkinson, he gave slip that another claimant to the title of Dark Lord is on the rise."
"Lies and Delusions," Harald scoffed. "A dreamer and nothing more, with neither the power, nor the dark knowledge to conquer a tiny hamlet, much less a continent."
Rhaegar didn't say anything, but he knew what no one else did. There was a claimant to that title- and this person had potentially more power than Grindelwald.
He had just chosen to wait.
But Harald, better than any other, would loathe Dark Lords and Ladies, Dark Magic and Pure-blood Supremacy. Harald had been in school, the same age as Rhaegar, when Grindelwald took over, and violently began to torture, kill or enslave any who opposed him. Members of Harald's family felt that they had an obligation to stop Grindelwald and his supporters- to their own cost. Harald's own father had killed himself before they could take him for questioning. He had attempted a coup. So did the others. Harald had been sent to a prison-camp and made to work, arduous labour, nearly dying of starvation, dehydration, hypothermia, disease and whatever else. He somehow managed to escape- it was an once-in-a-lifetime feat, but his mother and sisters were killed.
Harald would never want those days to come back again. Rhaegar of all people, knew the cost. He too had fought in the wars against Grindelwald, but to his amazement, it was his old transfiguration teacher that defeated the Dark Lord single-handedly.
Rhaegar knew that it was not the end. Another would rise, stronger and more powerful than ever, and nothing and no one could stop him when it was too late. And he even knew that person's name.
The legendary commander might have won many battles, but this time, it was not the kind he could win. Not without proof. Not without witnesses.
And there was no way to prove it.
Rhaegar could bring someone forwards, but he risked endangering the ones he loved- his sister and her son.
He could not tell the name of the man whose existence haunted their lives and whose very life threatened the ones he loved the most.
Including his own wife.
Walking to his own rooms, she was there. The one woman he loved, the only woman he had ever had a connection and an understanding with, besides familial love.
The only one who was there and who knew him for who he was.
His only source of sanity, he thought ruefully as he made his way there. He knocked.
She was there, she looked up when she saw him.
She was sitting in front of the fire. Never before had a vision of such impossible, breath-taking and surreal beauty graced the eyes of humans. Her graceful, willowy and perfect form was framed by thick, rich, silky hair, so deep a black, it was darker and more luminous than polished jet, capturing and reflecting the light infinitely brighter. No painting or sculpture, or even a dream, could ever compare to this. She radiated light and her skin glowed flawless and exquisitely fair, brighter than the moon and stars. Her almond eyes framed by thick black lashes were more luminous than gems. Even Rhaegar who had seen her thousands of times, was struck by her spell.
Only one thing gave such reasons away. Her delicate ears. Her hair sometimes revealed ears with tapering tips. This was no human.
She stood and the two of them embraced tightly.
"I've missed you," he breathed in her scent.
She nuzzled close to him, then pulled back and kissed him. She had a heart-shaped face and the most delicate, feminine features he had ever seen. Feminine and delicate, but not perfect. Her cheekbones were fine and high but her other features, the nose, dainty, delicately-pointed and upturned- retroussé- her mouth unbelievably lush, a reddish, rosebud mouth, and the large eyes a cross between almond and doe eyes were not perfectly proportioned, though flawless themselves. Yet these were what increased her beauty, gave her feature and made it more breath-taking. She truly shimmered with shining beauty.
Rhaegar kissed her again. "Trouble?" She asked him, her voice, melodious, clear and high.
He breathed out a sigh. "You have no idea, Alarissa."
She sighed and pulled away from him.
"Have you spoken with your sister?" She asked. "She didn't have any others like it, does she?"
Rhaegar shook her head. "None, I checked all of them."
"Her clothes?" She asked. "Her jewellery?" "She didn't have much, save for the locket into her marriage," Rhaegar said. "And no, I checked them anyway. Including her wedding ring."
Alarissa shook her head. "There must be something." Rhaegar grimaced. He sank into a chair. "If only it were that easy," he muttered.
She went over to him, and knelt by his side on the carpet. "Nothing is ever easy," she said. "That makes triumph all the sweeter."
He smiled, and his mind wandered as he stroked her ineffably lovely face. How long was it?
May 1st 1929….
Rhaegar ran tearing through the woods. "Come on, hurry, we're almost there!"
Freed from the cage, the young girl looked fearfully about her.
He ran, clutching her tightly to his form. She stumbled, but he picked her up. He was strong. He had grown strong. And the numerous floggings and curses he had received did nothing to deter his increased strength, nor him from his goal. Not when he had something to lose.
Covered in blankets, the young girl clutched gratefully to him. Her lovely face peeked from beneath the blankets. Her eyes were an impossible, rich brown, like melted chocolate hinted with pure molten gold.
"Come on now," Rhaegar said desperately. Don't stop, don't fall- and don't give up- not now!
Not when he had so much to lose- most of all, her.
"Here," he said, lifting her slight form and placing her on top of the raft. It was tightly bound with wood. She grabbed the paddle, and he pushed the raft out onto the sea, wading until it was waist-high, before he jumped aboard.
He grabbed another oar. "We have to be careful," he said. "They'll notice-" but before he could finish, shouts and yells of alarm and rage filled the air. Jets of red and green light shot through the night sky.
Soon they would be after them, like Nundus on a bloody human carcass.
"We have to go- fast!" Rhaegar said. He was desperately wishing for a wand- he didn't have one. Or an invisibility cloak. He could conjure no shield-charm, nor disillusionment charm without a wand.
He was almost ten years old. And the young girl, next to him- one of the Fey, or a Veela, as some call them, was one year younger. He was an underage, undeveloped wizard.
But not untrained in some ways. Despite being disadvantaged, Rhaegar panicked, despite being used to the worst, including torture.
And with it, came an unexpected pull.
The raft swirled and swished the water beneath them, and tugging, pulled itself with an alarming speed, barely giving time for the children to grab hold, before it propelled to unknown destinations.
1952…
Rhaegar smiled. He kissed her passionately again.
"What were you thinking of?" She asked him.
"The day we were free," he whispered. She smiled. Her brown-gold eyes glowed and turned violet as she kissed him again.
Not too far away….
Athelinda sighed, and closed her eyes. It had been a long day.
Her son murmured in his sleep, unconsciously snuggling closer to her, beneath the blanket. Her Sigurd.
It had been too long a day in the shop. She had chopped up ingredients, ordered stocks on new varieties, re-organized the whole store. Not to mention the hours spent cultivating with tenderness, potions which few could make- with the exception of love potions, Felix Felicis and Dark Potions, of course.
Athelinda believed in merit through hard work, and in the free will of love. And most of all, she loathed dark magic more than anything.
Including her own husband. Athelinda fingered the wedding ring she wore on a ribbon around her neck. Why she still kept it, she could only wonder.
Sigurd stirred and murmured in his sleep. "Precious, little thing," She cooed, kissing him, while he smiled in his dreams, before she too fell asleep.
The bite of the chain was cold around her neck. She choked and struggled to breathe.
The emeralds glinted evilly in the serpentine shape encrusted upon the locket's surface. There was a harsh, mocking laugh.
"Did you think you can escape me?" He whispered. "I was always with you. You will never be rid of me."
A ghostly shape emerged from the locket, which had opened itself. A figure whom she once knew. A handsome, black-haired young man, with pale skin and dark eyes.
She screamed and tried to get away, to claw herself away from him if she could.
"Hussshhh," he whispered, crooning as if to a snake. She had fallen, she must have, since she was now down.
He knelt down and kissed her. "You know, I will always follow and find you. You will never be rid of me. Even if I have to rip your soul out of its very shell, the way I did mine, and tear it in two, I will.
"I will find you, Athelinda. I will always find you."
And his hand, pale, long-fingered, but now skeletal, like pale five-legged spiders, or a hairless Quintaped, rested upon her heart, and its weight was heavy and cold, as it sucked the life away from her.
In Hertfordshire Britain…
Katerina sighed as she rolled the letter up. News from her son.
Rhaegar had written to her. They had come close, but not close enough. The High Council will need more convincing.
But not from her daughter. Never from her daughter, or her grandson.
Athelinda and Sigurd would remain safe, if it was the last thing she did- they all would.
And their secrets would be forever hoarded within their hearts and souls. Right?
There was nothing she wouldn't do for any of them. She admitted.
Nothing at all.
And so the matriarch of the family stood, fearfully wondering what would come next.
They would wait, and until the day their secrets were threatened, and their cover blown, then she would panic.
Yeah, yeah, I know. The name Rhaegar is from Game of Thrones/A song of Ice and Fire, but I really REALLY liked the name! As for the surname Artrigos- that will be explained later on, but it comes from the Celtic 'Artos' meaning 'Bear' and the 'Rigos' bit means 'king'. I had to change the name several times, now. First it was Avantador. Then it was Drakarere. But I think- hope- this is the final change. As for the name Alarissa, that I admit comes from the book In the Forest Fey. Check it out.
This is part two of the Dragon's Child series. But I swear, by far, it's better than Lady of Serpents- that was not my best fanfiction! But it's the same family. I just changed the surname. This however, I promise to be much better.