"Lucy," the King scolded.
Lucy looked up dreamily. "Yes, Father?"
"Don't fall asleep at the dinner table."
"I'm sorry, Father," Lucy apologized, sitting up. Her plate of rice, mashed potatoes and steak was untouched, as was the rest of the grandoise array spread out on the long dark wood dining table. Her father, King Jude, sat at the other end, absently picking at his food while writing notes for the kingdom. What he said was only common courtesy; if she dunked her head in the silver goblet he would hardly look twice. His work, as always, came before his flesh and blood.
Princess of Fiore? What a joke. She was simply a figurehead, a statue of pristine beauty and elegance for the kingdom to follow. From birth, she had been taught one thing: Image is everything. No matter what, she was to display a demeanor of regalia. She followed suit obediently: the perfect Princess, Lucy Heartfilia, who is as luminous as the stars that the kingdom was built under years ago. She governed the stars in the form of her Celestial keys left to her by the late Queen. Some of her company at times, however, was less than savory...
"King Jude," a servant said, stepping in. "You have a call on the Lacrima."
King Jude excused himself with a grunt to Lucy before stepping out - totally mundane. Lucy sighed to her bowl of soup. A jingle like bells sounded and she felt hands on her shoulders. "Everything okay, Lucy?"
"Exceptional, Loke," Lucy said. She found him no more than a year ago half-dead from existing in the human world too long. Now he had an almost unhealthy (and sometimes annoying) attachment to her.
"No...that's your I'm so mad at Father tone of voice."
"Then have you noticed my Please release my shoulders before I splash you tone of voice?"
Loke sighed and stepped back. His glasses glinted. "I'm always here, Lucy."
"Yes, yes," Lucy sighed, rising from her seat. She curtsied slightly at the servant who'd been waiting at the side of the table. "Thank you for the meal, but I've eaten enough."
"Understood, Miss Lucy," he said, rushing to clear the table.
Lucy left, walking down the hall. Columns rose periodically to the mosaic of Celestial Spirits on the ceiling. Lucy stared up at it, wistful for her late mother. She passed by the grand wooden double doors of the King's bedchamber and paused. The King hadn't closed the doors fully; one of them was open a crack. Voices floated up through the space. Lucy pressed herself against the wall. Princesses were supposed to be the queens of propaganda, after all. That's what King Jude taught her - why reprimand her for it?
"...looking pretty bad," the head of the royal guard said. Gray Fullbuster. Lucy had an alright relationship with him; the only reason she preferred not to hang out with him was his unruly habit of losing his clothes.
"How so?" the King inquired.
Feet shuffled. "They're reeling in pain. Their skin is bubbling like it'll blow up and their fingers are bend in odd ways. Never seen it before."
Why would he have? The kingdom captured the dragons, yes, but they neglected to investigate them. They didn't know anything beyond their strange magic of shifting between a human form and the monstrous dragon form that Fiore fears. "Ah," the King said. "That's very unsettling."
"What do we do, sir?" Gray asked. "I mean, if those guys die, then..."
"I do not need to be reminded. Do you have any ideas, Fullbuster?"
Gray sounded anxious. "That dragon...the one with the pink hair...he proposed something to me."
"...Which is?"
"This is what happens to dragons when they're captured too long, he said. They get...a certain sickness. We will die if you don't do something."
"He's bluffing," the King scowled.
"How would we know? Sir, if you went down to look at them...if they're playing a trick, then they're going pretty far. That's real pain they're in."
The King pondered this. "Get a sample for our scientists. Maybe they could make a cure."
"I don't think so," Gray said. "They're halfway between skin and scales, and dragon scales are impossible to shatter."
"Then what other option are we left with? Fullbuster, if those dragons die, then they are coming after us. I hate to admit it, but our forces aren't a match for pure Dragon Force." [Oh no, they in italics. Never a good sign!]
"He wants to talk to you," Gray said. "That dragon."
"..." Lucy could imagine her Father's stricken expression. He had two options involving the ones he hated and feared: let them die, or put the kingdom's fate in their hands. "Shackle him. Get the best guards too."
"Yes, sir."
Lucy pulled away and took off down the hall. She turned the corner just as Gray came out of the room. She stopped to catch her breath and saw him walking towards her. "Princess Lucy?" he said. "What are you..."
"Oh, nothing," Lucy said innocently, smiling. When he passed by she stuck her tongue out at his back. Princess, no. Cocky Mage, yes.
Lucy had never been allowed down in the dungeons for some inane reason she'd never pondered, so she had never seen any of the dragons. She sat at the flank of the King's throne, perched at the northern end of the grand room. The guards stationed at the double doors turned to open them. Lucy sucked in a breath.
Any book she'd ever read told her that dragons were great beasts with waves of glimmering scales, great maws of teeth strong enough to crush a building and wings big enough to cause tornadoes. First, Gray Fullbuster walked in. He was decked out in his soldier's uniform - thankfully - with two chain links wrapped around his wrists. Three more guards followed behind them, pressed together too tightly for Lucy to see whoever - or whatever - they were covering. They walked the full, agonizing length of polished creme marble to the throne. Gray and the other guards dropped on one knee.
"At ease," King Jude said. Then his eyes went up to the dragon...
...which Lucy did not recognize at all.
They most likely cleaned him up for his audience with the King, however, his pink hair jutted out in every direction. He was wearing a gold-trimmed black vest and white canvas pants. His hands were bound behind his back with Anti-Magic shackles. The chains wound around his neck and dragged on the floor to Gray's hand. His eyes were so black they didn't reflect any light nor did they betray any of his emotions. Facing the King, he had to be wound like a cobra, but he was still and calm as a pond. "King Jude," he said flatly.
"You seem well," the King said suspicious. He smiled slightly.
"Call it a relapse," he said. He flexed his neck. Under his scarf the skin was turning rash-red. "But you can go down and see Redfox and Wendy are still in pain, if you'd like."
"And what makes you different than those two?"
"Well, let's see..." He nodded his head from side to side, smiling playfully. "I'm much stronger than that Metalhead. [Yeah Natsu, everybody's stronger than a piece of scrap metal made by a lovesick turtle.] And I'm the oldest out of all of them, thank you."
"You are testing my patience, Dragneel," the King said, irritation seeping into his voice. Lucy looked from her father to the dragon. The guards were shifting on their feet but he kept staring passively.
"It's not Dragneel," he corrected. "You do not have the right to call me by that name." A bit of fire trickled from his lips. At that, Gray pulled the chains, yanking Natsu to the ground. He landed hard on his knees. The Anti-Magic shackles glowed red hot. "Like I was saying..." He raised his head. His eyes flared slightly. "Those guys are weaker than me. Hey, they might die before night falls."
Lucy had to admire that guy. In the face of the one to determine his life or death, he was cool and collected - cracking jokes even. She could never have done that. She folded her hands in her lap, crossing her fingers for his safety.
"Yes," the King said. "That is why you were temporarily released. To enlighten us on the cure."
"Ah, yes," he continued, distracted. "The opportunity to, after eighteen hundred years, stretch my legs." The irony was that his ankles were tangled with chains as well.
"Eighteen hundred years?" Lucy exclaimed, her head whipping around to face King Jude.
"Lucy, be silent."
"Father that's ridiculous!" she said. "Keeping a person locked up for eighteen hundred years..."
"Yes, but this isn't a person," Gray corrected coolly. "This is a monster."
The dragon's jaw tightened. His arms started shaking.
"Lucy, don't speak when you don't know the circumstances," the King said sharply, turning to her with fierce eyes. Lucy shrunk back, placated.
"Hey," the dragon said, finally annoyed. "Don't talk to her like that."
"Dragneel, that's not your problem," Gray said.
"It's Natsu. Not Dragneel. It's Na-tsu."
"My daughter needs to learn her place," King Jude said firmly. "And so do you. Guards, take him back to his cell."
Gray smirked as he pulled Natsu to his feet. The guards started dragging him backwards. Natsu looked at Lucy, his eyes pleading. "Father, no," Lucy said, rising from her seat.
"Look!" Natsu said quickly. "There's a cure...it's a plant!" When they reached the doors Natsu clanked his ankles together, slackening the chains, and yanked them apart. The links snapped instantly. He pulled away from the guards' grips, running forward. His eyes were feral. "Look, there's a plant. It's a plant up in Shirotsume. It'll cure Wendy and Red-graah!" Gray had grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back.
"Ice Make-"
"Guuah!" Natsu roared. The shackles cracked like glass. His body erupted in flames. Gray pulled back; his sleeves were smoldering. Natsu shook, his skin crackling with the flames. Red scales covered his body and his scleras turned gold. "Guah!" His skin started bubbling like water. The scales cracked and fell to the ground. Sweat ran down his face, evaporated, and started pouring down. Lucy covered her mouth. He was in real pain. The King was speechless as well.
Natsu dropped on his knees as the flames died out. Then he fell on his face and went completely still.