The fire was dying down, but Gabriel didn't feel like moving to get more wood. He welcomed the cold and the dark; after what he had been through just twenty four hours before, he felt like he had had enough of heat and light to last a lifetime. He wasn't being realistic, he knew, but if he closed his eyes, he could still picture the terrified determination on his brothers' faces, still hear their screams as they were roasted alive.
He shivered, and he didn't know if it was from the cold or the memories. The clearing he was in was small, small enough that his tiny campfire cast light over every inch of ground between it and the treeline. He hadn't wanted to make a fire, but Sam insisted. And as the night grew darker and the breeze chillier, Gabriel was glad that he had listened.
Twigs crunched under large leather boots, and then Sam walked into the clearing with arms full of branches. He sat down across the fire from Gabriel and slowly fed the wood to the fire until it was bright and warm. Gabriel closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the fire, or the pity in Sam's eyes, but just the sound of crackling wood made his pulse race and his breath come short.
The change wasn't obvious, and to anyone who didn't know him well, he would appear to be calm and completely in control. Unluckily for him, or luckily, Sam knew him extremely well. They had been raised together, after all, and when Sam became captain of Gabriel's royal guard, they had spent even more time together than they normally did.
Sam could see the impending panic attack and moved so that they were sitting with their arms pressed together.
"How-"
"If you ask me how I am, I will castrate you," Gabriel snapped. Sam bit his lip, but didn't finish his question.
"Gabriel, repressing your emotions isn't healthy," he said instead. Neither of them mentioned that it was Gabriel who had taught that to Sam.
"I'm not repressing anything except the urge to stab you in the eye."
His eyes opened, which was mistake number one, and yup, there it was. The pitying look, the one thing he didn't want from the one person who had sworn to never pity him for anything. Mistake number two was allowing Sam to pull him into a hug - and it was warm against a broad chest, and it smelled like smoke and sweat and safety, and Gabriel wanted to pull away but he didn't.
That was mistake number three.
He felt tears start to leak out of his eyes, and then he was sobbing into Sam's leather vest, great, heaving sobs that he would be embarrassed about later, but he didn't much care just then, because one is entitled to cry when one's whole family just died.
Gabriel was the youngest of four brothers, and third in line for the crown of the kingdom of Heaven. He lived in a castle and did normal prince things. He went on rides with his brothers, fell asleep when his tutor was trying to teach him, and overall tried to enjoy life. His parents were dead, but it was alright, because he could barely remember them, and he had his brothers to raise him.
King Michael was the oldest. He was calm and mature, and always good to have around in a crisis. He rarely lost his control, and everyone looked to him for guidance. He was known throughout the kingdom for being just and wise, but detached from his emotions, which Gabriel knew was not the case. Anyone who spent any time at all around Michael knew that he was very loving, and the best person to go to when you were in need of advice or stability.
Lucifer was the next oldest, and the most like Gabriel out of the four of them. The youngest prince liked to think that Lucifer was like a coin, in that he had two very different sides. The one he used when threatened, insulted, or angry was cold and emotionless, deadly in its accurate exposal of one's flaws and quick exploitation of them. It was the side Gabriel tended to avoid. But the other part of Lucifer was just like Gabriel, carefree and happy and never seen without a smile on his face. Lucifer was who Gabriel went to when he needed a good laugh, or some cheering up.
Raphael was the second youngest. He was much like Michael in that he rarely smiled or laughed, and like Lucifer in that he was very slow to anger. He had his emotions under perfect control, a useful skill when one was a healer. Raphael could often be found in the library, reading or playing chess against one of his guards, or whoever wanted to oppose him. He tended to get lost in thought very often, and Gabriel made it his mission to draw his brother out of himself whenever he got quiet and sad, thinking about all the people he couldn't save. Raphael was Gabriel's source of comfort, who he went to when he needed to be held or hear that everything would be alright.
And then they died.
The world was filled with mystical and magical creatures; in fact, while their father was human, each of them had a different mother, each one a member of some magical race.
Michael's mother was a nixie. This race was known for being very malevolent and materialistic. She had lured their father out into the water and was about to drown him, but she fell in love with the gifts he promised her. They married, and Michael was born. Because he was only half human, he didn't have all of the gifts of the nixies. He could shapeshift, to a certain extent, but he didn't inherit his mother's gift of prophecy.
When the nixie queen died, their father, King Chuck, married again. This time, the queen was a siren. She fell in love with the king and used her call to make him love her, and Lucifer was born from this union. He had always despised his mother for using unethical means to marry Chuck, but he loved their father, and in fact was Chuck's favourite. Lucifer had inherited the siren's call, but only used it if he absolutely had to. Michael and Lucifer both looked like Chuck, with his blue eyes and sharp features.
Raphael's mother was a faerie. She was one of those rare faeries that were human sized, and very kind usually, but upon meeting Chuck had given in to her selfishness. The king was injured when they met each other, and the faerie had used her magic to heal him. In return for saving his life, the faerie wanted to become queen. They were married, and Raphael was born. He'd inherited his mother's looks and healing magic.
Of all the queens that Chuck had taken, Gabriel's mother was the only one he had truly loved. She was a pixie, one of those that delighted in small, harmless pranks instead of doing actual harm. Chuck had saved her from a faerie circle, and the rest was history. She was incredibly beautiful, with golden wings and hair and eyes. Gabriel had inherited her small stature, love of mischief, and colouring, though his hair and eyes were more golden brown than actual gold like hers had been. The only magical abilities he'd ever shown were an uncanny connection with nature, meaning that he could not only "speak" to the earth, he could manipulate it.
And then, when Gabriel was only two years old, his parents had died. The princes had been devastated, and after the funeral, Michael had been crowned king. Things had run relatively smooth from there, with the princes growing and developing their powers, and going through the everyday lives that royalty lived.
And then, on Gabriel's sixteenth birthday, the dragon appeared.
When he woke, it was with a pounding heart and a muffled scream clogging his throat. Tears streamed down his face, and he released a shaky breath. He was trembling, he realized, and panting as if he had just run for miles. On the bedroll next to his, Sam was still sleeping.
Silently, Gabriel got up and padded off into the woods, trying to calm himself down. Being immersed in nature had always helped him when he was little. It made him feel closer to his mother, because everyone knew that when pixies died their spirits went into the earth and were reborn as trees and flowers.
Gabriel leaned against a large tree and let the tears flow freely. He couldn't remember anything from his nightmare but fire and scorching heat and screaming, but what made it even worse was the fact that it had been pulled from his memories, and it wasn't something that Raphael could whisper away or Lucifer erase from his mind with jokes and laughter.
He didn't know how long he stood there, lost in thoughts of his brothers and the kingdom he and Sam were heading back towards, but it was light when his guard crashed through the underbrush and came to a halt in front of him.
HIs sword was drawn and his eyes were wild. He sighed, relieved, when he spotted Gabriel, and rushed over to pull him into a hug.
"What the hell, Gabriel?" he demanded. "I thought something had happened! Don't ever do that to me again, alright?"
"Sorry," Gabriel mumbled. Sam pulled back and looked down at him with worried eyes.
"What happened?" he asked gently. Gabriel shook his head and buried his face into Sam's shirt.
"Nothing," he said. "It's not important."
Sam looked unconvinced, but he didn't press as he grabbed Gabriel's hand and led him back to the clearing where they had made camp. He built up the fire again, as it had burned down to a pile of embers and ash during the night, and left with his bow and a quiver of arrows, leaving Gabriel with strict instructions to not wander off again.
Instead of mockingly asking which of them was the prince, as he would've normally done, Gabriel just nodded and sat down on his bedroll, pulling his knees to his chest. Sam gave him one last concerned glance, and then he crept off into the woods to hunt for breakfast.
Gabriel sat staring into the fire, as he had the previous night, but instead of closing his eyes and looking away, like he had before, he kept them open and forced himself to stare into the dancing flames. He and Sam were only a few days' walk from the palace, and he'd need to be ready to support his people when he got back. He was the last remaining royal, and he couldn't afford to be weak, so he stared into the flames and willed his heart to stop aching.
"They're dead," he told himself firmly. "There's nothing you can do about it, and crying won't help. It won't bring them back, and it won't keep the people calm. You need to accept the fact that they're dead and you aren't."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," a gravelly voice hissed, and Gabriel spun around, pulling his sword out of its sheathe as he did so. There, standing not two feet from him, was the dragon.
Dragons were a rare species, seen normally very far south of Gabriel's kingdom. He'd always wanted to see one, as not much was known about the secretive race, and no one who had ever encountered a dragon had lived to tell the tale.
But, in the middle of Gabriel's sixteenth birthday ball, which Michael had insisted on throwing no matter how much Gabriel protested, one of the sentries who were supposed to be patrolling the borders came bursting into the hall, covered in soot and ash and blood.
"Dragon!" he'd screamed, and the whole ballroom had gone quiet. "Dragon in the kingdom! It broke through our defenses, and it's heading for the Mount Hell!"
There was an immediate panic as people started to scream, and Lucifer was forced to use his call to calm them down. Michael had given instructions for the Council to take over the kingdom, and then he and the princes had rushed off to their rooms to prepare for the journey ahead of them.
Gabriel was excited, incredibly so. This would be the first time he'd gone on an actual journey farther than the capital city that laid just outside the castle's gates. A servant packed him a bag full of food and supplies, and he slung it over his back and rushed to the stables to meet his brothers.
The other three were already there when he got there, all of them dressed similarly in light leather armour and with huge metal shields attached to their vambraces. All twenty members of the royal guard were there, as well, and Gabriel smiled excitedly at Sam as he mounted his horse.
Within an hour of the sentry's report, the group was riding through the city on their way to the mountain. It was a three day's ride to Mount Hell, and the group rode hard, only stopping when absolutely necessary.
They reached the base of the mountain on the morning of the fourth day, and immediately started up the path on the side of the mountain. There was a large cavern near the top of Mount Hell, and they could see smoke emerging from it.
It took them all day to reach the cave's entrance, and the moon was high in the sky as they charged into the cave. The dragon was crouched over a smoldering pile of embers on the floor, on which they could see three small eggs. He was tall, over six feet, but still shorter than Sam, the tallest in their group, and had broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. His hair was brown-blonde, and his eyes green, and leathery brown wings emerged from his back.
He hissed at the large group, and crouched lower over the eggs.
"Get out!" he snarled. Michael ignored him and nodded to the group. They spread out and began to surround the dragon, who was hissing and trying to keep an eye on all of them at the same time.
"Now!" Michael shouted, and they all charged. The dragon let out a roar that seemed much too loud and deep for his size, and then a white-hot flume of flame shot out of his mouth. Everything after that was a blur. Gabriel remembered screams, heat, and light, and the dragon refusing to move from his protective stance, not even when Lucifer snuck up behind him and thrust his sword deep into his chest.
He gasped and let out a pained whimper, sliding to his knees and then onto his stomach. Blood began to run from his chest onto the eggs, and the embers they sat on crackled and fizzed. The men, those that were still alive, let out a cheer. From the cave mouth, there came an enraged shout.
Another dragon, this one shorter than the first, but with larger, pitch-black wings, shot into the cave and sunk his claws deep into Lucifer's chest. Before anyone had time to react, the thing was on the next person. He was enraged, and kept casting pained glances towards the dead dragon on the floor. Each time, his eyes grew darker and darker, and he grew more and more ruthless in his attacks.
Someone came up behind Gabriel and grabbed him around the waist, and then he was being dragged roughly from the cave. Just before they turned the corner, the dragon shot flames at a group of men charging towards it, and Gabriel heard the screams, saw the carnage, smelled the burning flesh. Michael and Raphael were at the head of that group, and Gabriel didn't look away fast enough.
Then, still in shock, he was running, running, running down a steep, rocky path. Another roar sounded, this one full of pain and misery, and Gabriel shuddered.
His wings were spread out to their full length, and his sharp teeth were bared. Blue eyes were narrowed in hatred, and he towered over Gabriel threateningly.
"I wouldn't say that," he growled again. "You killed my mate! We did nothing to you, and you killed him!" He stalked forward, and Gabriel raised his sword threateningly and refused to back down. He glared at the dragon with just as much hate as the dragon glared at him with. "I am going to peel the flesh from your bones strip by strip."
"I'd like to see you try," Gabriel taunted. He thrusted, but the dragon jumped back, anticipating the move. He laughed, a deep, mocking sound.
"You are no match for me, princeling," he said. Gabriel's blood boiled.
"I am not a prince!" he shouted, charging at the dragon. He swung with his sword, forcing his enemy to duck. He was too slow to dodge Gabriel's boot, which came up to kick him in the stomach, hard. "You killed my older brothers!" He stabbed downwards with his sword, but the dragon rolled out of the way. Gabriel yanked his weapon out of the dirt and managed to slice a long gash into one wing. Blood splattered his face, and the dragon hissed. Acting on impulse, Gabriel tackled the dragon to the ground and smashed the back of its head into the ground. It lay dazed, and Gabriel positioned his sword above his heart. They locked eyes, both pairs burning with fury and hatred.
"So now I am a king," Gabriel finished, and he plunged the sword deep into the dragon's chest. It jolted and twitched, and then it was still. Panting, Gabriel stood shakily and let the sword fall from his grip.
"Gabriel." He turned, and Sam was there instantly, enveloping him in a tight hug. Sam whispered apologies into his hair, pulled him tight against his chest, but Gabriel's eyes never left the dragon's face.
It was peaceful, happy even, as if he didn't want to live in a world where he couldn't be with his mate and was glad to join him in death. The prince - no, king now - could relate.
Sam pulled back and knelt on one knee. "My king," he said.
Gabriel cried.
If an author is in an angsty mood and writes a story, but sucks at writing feelings, does the writing even count as angst?
Kudos if you figured out who the dragons are, not that it's hard.
