Well, I finally decided to take the plunge and write something. Updates will be slow since it takes me a month to basically write 3k words, and since I have no clue what I'm doing, this should be quite the adventure for all of us. Since my goal is to get better as a writer, I welcome all criticism. I'm a tech monkey so this will be my first attempt to write something creative - let's hope I don't crash and burn. I'm shaking my magic 8-ball and asking it if my story will be any good, and it says "Very doubtful". So, read at your own risk.
For those who haven't figured it out yet, I'm clueless. I'm sure that fact will become abundantly clear after you read what's presented below. Please expect all the newbie stupidity that comes along with a first story.
Some warnings. I'm rating this "T", but it will have offensive language, blood, torture, angst, mind control, sexual suggestiveness, and other such naughty topics. Nothing explicit along the love lines, since I can't write a love scene to save my life, but consider yourself warned (i.e. no lemons or yaoi. However, suggestive and creepy sexual situations will abound).
If it seems that I've rated the material wrong, let me know. The fiction will be dark and unhappy, so if you're looking for a fairytale ending, you've come to the wrong place.
This fiction is based on the "How to Train Your Dragon" movie by DreamWorks and book characters by Cressida Cowell (you'll see a mix). I own nothing, I get no money, so please don't sue. This is done only to gain some literary experience, and I will most likely be laughed at and humiliated by those who review the work. The plot and extra characters are the invention of my own twisted mind, so hopefully they will bring you either amusement, or many sleepless nights (**laughs maniacally**).
Last Warning: Buckle up, Buttercup. We're just getting started, and the ride gets bumpy from here...
Prologue:
Darkness, impenetrable and immovable, filled the immense room like an palpable presence. The smell of exotic aromas hung thickly in the dank and musty air unnoticed by the cloaked occupant seated hunched in a large wooden chair before a small fire, completely lost in thought. The reflection of the flickering light from the red-orange flames danced wildly off cold, grey eyes, as fingers drummed mindlessly on the large wooden arm of the chair.
The complete silence of the room was broken only by the sound of approaching solitary footsteps, echoing off the stone floor of the long corridor leading to the room. After a brief time, the sound of the footsteps abruptly stopped and two loud knocks erupted into the room.
Not waiting for a response, the messenger slowly pushed open the heavy double mahogany doors (which appeared designed to keep errant sunlight and fresh air from invading the sanctuary), entered cautiously, and positioned himself a respectful distance from the back of the chair where the cloaked figure sat. Lowering his head and eyes toward the floor, he dropped onto his right knee in a gesture that yielded great authority to the figure seated before him. Raising his eyes slightly, he surveyed the room using the small amount of light that filtered in from the open doors.
The stone room was filled with herbs and potions which produced a smell that clung to and assaulted the man's nose and throat, making his head swim with dizziness. One of the four walls was lined, floor to ceiling, with moisture warped wooden shelves full of ancient looking books. The far wall was filled with numerous bottles of various sizes haphazardly arranged on similar looking shelves. The bottles contained strange looking herbs and odd colored liquids whose sole purpose, he reasoned, surely had evil intent.
Positioned a few feet in front of the potions wall rose a solid, black onyx pedestal which contained an open book that had obviously been heavily used. The pages looked worn, and the leather cover was ripped and dirty. An old metal cup seemed to have been placed judiciously next to the book. The cup held a solitary dagger encased in an ornate metal sheath, the smooth silver handle blemished only by two distinguishing makers' marks.
The unembellished wall to his right was made entirely of cold grey stone. The only distinguishable feature viewable in the omnipresent darkness were chains fastened to the wall. A large dark cabinet rested against the wall whose contents were hidden from view by blood stained doors. The sight made a small ripple of fear roll up the man's spine as he recalled the stories told by the guards. The dark fate of those unlucky victims burned in his mind and caused his heart to race. "A fate worse than death," he thought.
Without moving his head, the messenger's eyes shot upward. The ceiling rose high above, enveloped in ubiquitous darkness. The room was massive. It was designed for a specific purpose; a deadly purpose. One he dared not think about.
The messenger raised his head and began speaking to the back of the figure seated in front of the large, rectangular stone fire pit centered in the middle of the room. His voice hoarse and raspy, shaking slightly as he began his report. "I beg your forgiveness for the interruption, but I bring news." His voice full of tension and fear.
Without taking a breath, the messenger continued. "The mother is dead. It was carried out as you directed. No one suspects." The seated figure raised an eyebrow and a half-smile slowly broke over the hidden face. The messenger continued, "It's a boy. Sickly, but alive." The messenger finished his report and reverently bowed his head. A frown splashed across the face of the cloaked figure.
Immediately mental machinations were developed to counteract the unforeseen and unwanted variable. "The child can be dealt with. He's vulnerable. No one will suspect he's a target. Patience... I must be patient... The bond must be strong. It will make the nectar so much sweeter when the time arrives." The speed of the finger drumming increased, and the sound of nails on wood grew louder as a new plan speedily came to fruition. A large smile slowly broke across the figure's face as the mental scheme solidified.
The long silence that ensued after the messenger's report made his blood run cold. Fearing retribution for being the bearer of bad news, he fidgeted, struggling to control his visceral reaction to the fear rising in his chest. Pulled out of thought by the irritating motion from behind, the cloaked figure flicked a hand and dismissed him. A look of relief flashed across the face of the man.
The kneeling messenger rose and stood on shaky legs. He then bowed and slowly backed out of the room. As he started pulling the double doors closed, maniacal laughter erupted, rebounding and amplifying as it streamed passed him and cascaded down the corridor behind. The evil sound only being squelched as the heavy double doors were finally pulled closed.
For a brief moment the messenger stood motionless. His sweaty hands still clung tightly to the door handles, his shoulders hunched slightly and his head tilted down. He slowly exhaled a desperate breath and tried to steady his nerves as cold sweat ran down his back. Lifting his head and straightening his back, he released his tight grasp on the ornate handles, turned and paused.
Before leaving, he took note of the eerie patterns of light which shifted and moved across the floor before him. Scanning the area for the source, he realized that the late afternoon sun was scattering and reflecting off the metal cell doors that lined the corridor. Doors that hid dark and terrible secrets. Secrets of pain, despair, loneliness, agony and eventual death. All those secrets just to satiate the growing hunger of the monster in the room.
A small moan emanated from one of the cells and pulled the messenger away from his dark thoughts and back to reality. Feeling relief to be finally free from the oppression of the room, he began to retrace his steps back down the corridor. His gait quickened toward the rising steps at the far end as he sensed final freedom, feeling no guilt leaving all those untold secrets behind.
