Prompt
Round 4 - Creature Comforts
CHASER 1: Choose one - DRAGON - as a prompt. You will be writing from the point of view of the creature you choose.
Characters/Pairing: Dragon
Prompts:
3. (dialogue) "You know, I don't really need you."
9. (song) Born To Die by Lana del Ray
15. (word) obliterate
Word Count (-AN): 1478, MSW
Note: If it matters, I do not own Harry Potter in any form, except for the hard back copies of the books that sit on my shelf and they bring me no money. This story may have some AU elements in it. Thanks to Mel and Darkness for betaing this story for me.
QLFC Round 4 "My fire is hot, my teeth are sharp, and you, little two-legs, may think that you are safe with your metal ropes, but one day I will burn you with fire fueled by rage and your cavern will crumble around you." The ages passed and her promise was almost forgotten but with a little help the Mother lived long enough to see it fulfilled and to send her fire to join with the heat of the sun.
Mother
Dragon fire turned the roof of the cavern red as the team of goblins did their best to hold onto the chains that would temporarily bind the captive Mother. It wasn't an easy task. Her roars were deafening, the sound trapped within the confines of the small cave, and her fire was hot.
"My child! My child! They took her! Stole her from me in the night! My eggs, my nest, my child! The two-legs stole my child from me and I demand yours in return. I don't care how long I have to wait, my fire is hot, my teeth are sharp, and you, little two-legs, may think that you are safe with your metal ropes, but one day I will burn you with a fire fueled by rage, and your cavern will crumble around you."
The lead goblin snarled and the order was passed along the line until the Mother could no longer attach a face with the voices she was hearing. The Mother swung her head around, trying to take aim on those who held the ends of the metal restraining her, roaring in frustration when all she hit with her fire was more rock.
She inhaled, letting the air settle in her lower lungs where it would be heated in preparation for another blast of dragon fire, her eyes following a larger version of the two-legs, similar to those who had taken her child, as the red head waded through the small two-legs that were crowding her nest. She would hold her fire for the moment out of respect for the two-legs mother. The Mother could smell the children on the two-legs scent; though not even the two-legs' children would save her if the two-legs mother showed the stupidity the males of her race demonstrated.
"Peace, Dragoness, I mean your child no harm."
The Mother tilted her head as the two-legs spoke in her tongue. She would grant this two-legs mother to approach as she demonstrated the sense to speak in dragon tongue.
"My mates have taken your nest to a place where the goblins cannot break their shells. Your daughter will be safe and well cared for."
The Mother did not like the sound of that. She hissed and pulled in some more air and the two-legs backed away.
"You speak as though I will not be raising my child." The Mother hissed, smoke accompanying her words.
The two-legs nodded her head and fled the cave. Fire set the top of the cavern a glow as the Mother roared in anguish. One day she would obliterate them all.
Her red mate was the last thing the Mother saw before the nasty, short, two-legs blinded her.
He wasn't the same as her first mate, but he was strong, wild, and the only one mad enough to conquer her long enough to drive the rage induced insanity from her mind, if only temporarily. All the other prospective males had either fled in a rare case of self-preservation or had been gutted like the male the Mother had defeated moments before.
The Mother had growled at him, warned him off with a threatening breath of fire and he had laughed at her. He had stood there, just out of her reach, watching her like the blood free from her claws and then he had claimed her. The violence had only spurred him on. Her roar of defiance was only met with silence.
"I like the crazy, little Mother." He had told her when it was all over. "It gives me something to look forward to down here."
She had swiped at him as he had left her, and the male had simply laughed, ignoring the blood that gleamed darkly on the bright red scales of his hind legs.
The short two-legs had come not long after, binding her down with even more chains and burning her eyes with long metal rods.
The scent of blood and fire lingered for days after, and she gorged on the bodies of the short two-legs she had killed.
As the ages passed, blood and fire became a cold comfort.
The Mother lost the will to fight after her second nest was stolen from her. The eggs were all male and of little worth, so unlike her precious daughter, but they were still her nest. They were still hers to guard and protect. Yet with the blindness that had been forced upon her, she had been unable to do her duty.
A part of her had given up. Her fury was pushed to the back of her mind as she was tormented and starved.
Then, they came. There were three of them.
Her rescuers were adolescents. Their scents stuck between that of child and adult. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them. The sound of their feet on the cavern floor, the horrid clanging that signaled pain, the rustle of metal sliding on metal. She could smell them, fear, excitement, triumphant. The scents brought forth memories that she had long since thought forgotten.
Then they were scrambling on her back. "You are lucky that I hate the little two-legs more than you." The Mother roared, her fire blazing in front of her, warning the two-legs, little and big alike, not to come any closer.
Then she was free, the metal that had restrained her hanging loose and the Mother made good on the vow she had made all those many, many years ago.
The rumbling of the earth as it fell inwards boosted her spirits as she worked her way north following some unseen, unknown guide.
"You know; I really don't need you." The sound of the old mother's words was less a growl and more a guttural rumble of annoyance that had the red-headed two-legs reaching down to rub at a patch of loose scales as he groomed her tired body in the bright sunlight of the summer afternoon. It was her favorite part of the day, though she had no intention of telling her two-legs that. "I would have eventually found a mate or a nest sister to care for me." She rolled her head to allow the two-legs easier access to the other side of her neck, his growl was far softer than hers, more a mutter than actual words. She ignored him like always. "Now, I am too tired to look; besides, you do a decent job for a two-legs."
She had been saying the same thing for just over two years, and her two-legs had been caring for her just a little longer than that. He was not a Mother, but he was not a mate either. Rather, he smelled of fire and dragon. It was these scents, along with the lingering hints of those she associated with her rescuers, that convinced the old Mother to allow the two-legs close. She had scared enough off with her fire to know that most of the two-legs that lived in her forest stayed away. Her red-headed two-legs kept coming back.
"The other keepers are convinced that I have some special talent. They have taken to calling me a Dragon, or accusing me of being kin to one."
The Mother tilted her head to the side, allowing the rest of her body to roll as well. The two-legs kept on talking as he moved to rub at the new spot she had revealed.
"Honestly, I have no clue why you let me near you. Every day seems to be a walk on the wild side with you, and perhaps that is why I come. It makes it more interesting when I get ready to head your way and the other keepers try to stop me with tales of how you have attacked again. I doubt you burn as many as you are accused of, and I probably should be telling you to behave yourself. Doing what I should isn't half as fun as it sounds, though."
The rambling flow of the two-legs' chatter was soothing and familiar, and the old Mother found her eyes drifting closed. She had never fully healed from her time in captivity. Her body was tired and the sun was warm. She had never found her one daughter, the precious child that would carry her name, and now she was too tired to look any longer.
"May your fire always burn bright, Mother."
The voice was masculine and close to that of her two-legs, but the old Mother had never heard the two-legs speak in dragon before. Still, she sent a breath of fire, her last one at the two-legs, as both a parting gift and a reminder. His laughter was loud as her chest rose and fell, and she knew that her fire would soon be joining with the sun to warm the scales of the Mothers that were yet to come.