Disclaimer: I own nothing; Pogue owns Dragonheart and Neko_Youkai04 owns Scarlet. I just borrowed their toys for a bit.
A/N: This is RP based, so let me clarify just a few things so this story makes sense:
1. The OFC in this fic is/was once the dragon reffered to in the movie as the scarred one. Neko_Youkai04 and I have a theory that she was in fact Draco's mate, the mother of Drake, considering he states clearly that they were the last. It would only make sense, right?
2. Said drakka was not killed by Bowen as she was in the movie, but severely wounded. Felton found her and decided to woo her, hoping that with a dragon on his side he would be able to overthrow Einon. He also named her Scarlet, due to her coloring and her many, many scars.
3. She was turned into a human by fae-magic - and there isn't much else to say 'cause that brings us here, to this slightly AU-ish ficlet. XD
Lady in Red
Her pale hands grasp the cold stone guard of the balcony as she stares at the night sky, eyes searching for something – someone – some place. She does this nightly, for hours, and always she comes to him at the witching hour with her chest heaving and her eyes glossy with tears. She cries and begs him to tell her what it is she has forgotten, who she is and why she's here, with him, when it all feels so out of place. He always hushes her, strokes her hair and tells her to sleep because her shattered memories are but nightmares to be vanquished by morning, and he promises in due time, she will not remember remembering such things. Soon, he promises, she will start anew at his side.
Tonight he waits for her in the frame of the door, arms crossed over his chest, ankles locked loosely together as he leans against the gray stone. She is still and silent and her upturned gaze never falters as she continues to search, to try and place the missing pieces together once more. She never will, not without his help – and he refuses to give it now that he has fallen for her. He will never speak of the dragons or the knight or the magic or the stars – never, for then she will leave him to reclaim the life she once led.
She would leave him for that dragon, the last, her mate, and he cannot stand the thought. So, he decided long ago, upon the first skipped beat of his heart, it was better to keep the truth at bay.
He notices her grip has tightened on the guard, her knuckles white as her hands tremble. Wordlessly, he pushes off the wall and walks to her, placing his rough and calloused hands against her scarred ones. She jumps, head turning sharply, but she calms herself somewhat when she sees it is him.
"It is cold tonight," he says, head cocked to the side, hair tousling in the breeze. "Would you rather not be inside?"
Predictably, she shakes her head. "I feel as though I need to be here, waiting," she tells him, looking back to the sky.
"Nonsense," he says.
"Is it? I have dreams where the stars fall and the world ends in blackness. And I think I have wings in those dreams, but they never work quite right, so I always fall as the stars do," she whispers, her chest beginning to heave. He sneers momentarily, then clears his throat before he speaks.
"Just dreams, m'dear," he assures her. "They are just dreams."
"But they feel so real – "
"Come inside," he says, taking her by the hand and leading her back toward the doorway. "It is chilled tonight and you'll catch your death."
She keeps her gaze on the sky a moment longer, then turns to face him and says in a hush, "yes, m'Lord."
Inside, with the latch now on the door, she sits on his bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap, just as the Queen taught her. He stands back, admiring her unrivaled beauty and the way the firelight dances across her face, casting shadows and light in her eyes.
Slowly, he kneels at her side and tucks some of her wild red hair behind an ear. "You are so beautiful," he says, eyes meeting hers, and he still cannot believe the way her once bright green eyes have dulled and grayed. Soon, he thinks, they will be like onyx – once there is no dragon left within and all she is is but a woman.
"I am?" she asks and he cups her cheek, guiding her forward.
"Yes," he murmurs before their lips meet, "far too beautiful."
She accepts the kiss, melts into it and allows him to ease her back on the bed, his weight pinning her down against the mattress and silk sheets. Once the kiss is broken, he leans up, thumbing her bottom lip.
"Why do you stare at me so?" she asks, turning her head away.
He dares not speak his mind and wear his heart on his sleeve, the truth will surely spill in such a case, so he merely shakes his head and smiles at the woman beneath him, all flush and scars and red hair and scarlet dress and human eyes.
"No reason, my pet. No reason at all."