Sorry about the day delay. I woke up yesterday at one in the morning to a lovely stomach bug. I tried to finish up the chapter, but every time I set my laptop up, I just ended up having to run back to the bathroom yet again to upchuck into the toilet. Bleck. I'll spare the details… Luckily, it was only a twenty-four hour thing and I'm at least okay now to finish typing!
Lioness32: At the moment, I wasn't planning on it. But I've totally redone plots for stories in the past, so it may happen yet :D
Enjoy!
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Dragon's Bait
Chapter 7—Be the Witness
"Well, thief, did you really believe that you could steal from me and leave unharmed?"
Dark eyes lit with false bravado.
"I do not fear death or pain—let alone you, dragon. Do your worst."
Smaug's golden eyes narrowed and a wicked grin twisted his scaly lips.
"Oh, I intend too."
The thief's gaze wavered and Arya saw his Adam's apple bob as he gulped. The dragon circled his bound victim, puffing smoke and steaming, copper scented breath in his face.
"What do you propose I do to you?"
Arya glanced back and forth between the two. This man, whoever he was, obviously wasn't going to be getting out of here alive, or, at the very least, in less than three, heavilly toasted, pieces. She wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to hang around to watch Smaug disembowel the guy, but at the same time, she doubted the dragon would be pleased if she hightailed it out of there. In fact, if she ran, he might just force her to watch… so there was really no point. Was there?
"Go ahead, thief. Tell me. What punishment do you believe to most fitting for one such as yourself?"
With a final bought of faux bravery, the thief stared the dragon in the eye and declared, "My name is Fawke, not thief, and you will use it."
Smaug stared down at the thief, looking quite entertained. "Strange. You sound a great deal like another annoyance I've recently had the extreme displeasure of dealing with."
Arya grumbled sourly under her breath.
"Oh, come on. I'm not this obnoxious!" She waved her hand at their prisoner in exasperation. The dragon glanced over at her.
"So you think."
"Well then maybe if we're so alike, you should adopt him as your pet too."
Smaug snorted. "Do not be ridiculous. One jabbering mouth is far too much as it is. At least you also hold a smidgen of intelligence in that head of yours—not something I can say for one who dares enter a dragon's hoard alone and with the intent of thievery."
"I am not alone!" Fawke piped up. "Others are coming!"
The fire breather lowered his head to blow smoke in the man's face. "If that's the case, I'm almost tempted to release you. Let the world see what awaits those who wish to steal from me!"
"How will that help?" Arya frowned. "Won't that make people think you've gone soft?"
Smaug grinned. "We would be keeping a few of his limbs, of course."
"…Ah."
At this point, dear Fawke seemed to finally grasp exactly how perilous this situation of his was. He squirmed and struggled against his bindings and writhed against the pillar.
Smaug took a step closer—his large claws scraping noisily against the stone floor. His scaled chest began to crackle and glow with the first signs of his internal flame, and Fawke panicked.
"Stop! If you kill me, others will come! Many others! Not just thieves, but hunters and fighters! They know I'm here!"
Smaug looked down on him in wry amusement. "I do not doubt that, thief."
"When I do not return, they will come for me. They will come for you," he spat. Arya doubted any ragtag group of men that this thief belonged to would have any luck at slaying Smaug, but the idea still managed to twist her mouth into a worried frown. "They will return for vengeance and they will kill you, beast!"
Smaug snorted and reared back.
"And they will meet that same fate as you."
The dragon snarled. The thief howled.
And the chamber erupted in flame.
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Arya flicked through the dictionary. She had forgotten the word that had been troubling her earlier and didn't feel like opening up the other novel to find it. Instead, she mindlessly flipped through the pages of the heavy book in her lap—eyes skimming but not processing the multitude of words printed on the yellowed paper.
She had picked a few of the fruits off the tree that Smaug had brought her and brought them back to the hoard with her. She plucked one from the lopsided pile and took a small bite—barely breaking the fruit's skin.
It should have been time for their nightly game of riddles. Smaug had long since settled atop his usual gold pile. He glared over at her where she sat, munching lightly on the fruit in silence. It was her unofficial duty to start the game, but she had no interest in doing so tonight. Plus, her mind felt too numb to come up with any kind of intelligent questions as it was.
Just when she thought the dragon would be irked enough by her refusal to open her mouth to simply forget the game and fall asleep, his familiar, baritone, voice, echoed throughout the hoard.
"Give me food, and I will live; give me water, and I will die."
Arya took another bite of fruit and flipped another page of the dictionary. A minute or two later, she simply shrugged.
"I give up. You win. Night."
Smaug lifted his head with an irritated growl. "Are you really so distraught over the death of such a lowly pest?"
She didn't look up from the pages.
"Well?"
"No."
He glowered over at her and she slumped forward with a heavy sigh, running a finger over the tiny text.
"I'm upset because I should be upset."
"And why should you be bothered by the death of someone who meant nothing to you?"
"Because I should be," she insisted. "I should be absolutely mortified that I just witnessed a man burned to death not five meters from where I was standing… But I'm not. I can admit I'm a bit perturbed, but nowhere near what I should be… And no matter how hard I try to will myself to burst into tears, or throw up, or be horrified and never speak to you again, or something like that… Well. I just can't." She glanced up from the dictionary to stare at the dragon lounging on the other side of the room. Her eyes shone with worry and her voice felt small when she spoke. "Is there something wrong with me?"
Smaug peered back at her.
"Why would being apathetic to the destruction of a man who brought you naught but trouble in the short time you were forced to associate with him be wrong?"
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know… Human empathy, or something along those lines?"
"Why should you feel empathetic towards humanity when it has never sympathized with you?"
Arya's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Was it not irrational, human, fear that landed you at the stake? Was it not humanity that left you to die? Was it not humanity that betrayed you?"
"I guess…"
"The people of your home turned you over as bait the second they had the chance. They cared not for you, so you should not care for them. In fact, it would make more sense to loathe them." Smaug's eyes narrowed. "It is pathetic that you still cling to happy memories of these people in your Lake Town when every one of them abandoned you to rot away."
Arya shook her head rapidly back and forth in denial.
"But not everyone—There were people who thought I was innocent! Who knew I was innocent! My family! My friends! My… My—"
"Then where were these 'other people'? Where were they when your sentence was carried out? When you were convicted of witch craft?" Smaug snorted, a thick trail of smoke billowing up from his nostrils. "We dragons never turned on one another for the petty things you humans so easily slaughter each other over."
"Well that's because you're dragons!"
"It has nothing to do with species, little oaf."
Arya grit her teeth but said nothing, only buried her head deeper into the dictionary.
"Do you understand now?"
"Understand that everyone thought ever cared for me did nothing to protect me the one time I actually needed it, and that I'm a sentimental loser who would be better off just curling up in a hole to die? Yes, very much so. Thanks for that."
She turned another page, glaring blearily down at the jumble of writing.
"And what would you do if you could?"
"Excuse me?"
The dragon grinned toothily over at her and casually flicked his spiked tail back and forth through the piles of precious gems and metals scattered all around him.
"Do you not think the actions of those Lake Town people of yours deserve some kind of retribution?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you or do you not?"
She hid face further in her book with a heavy, depleted, sigh. "…I don't know…"
"Do not avoid answering me. What would you do if you had the chance for vengeance?"
Again, she flipped to the next page.
"Nothing. I would do nothing."
"Oh, do be more creative than that, little oaf. These are the humans who abandoned you in your hour of need—the ones so seduced by the idea that all their problems could be caused by one, miniscule, and insignificant, little girl that they tied you to a stake and left you to be my meal. Now tell me, what would you do?"
She bared her teeth, eyes swimming and face red with ire.
"Fine. You want to know what I would do, Smaug? What I would really do if I had the chance?" she spat, fury overriding rational thought. Her hands were shaking so horribly she practically dropped the dictionary, and the dragon smirked at her rage.
"Yes. What would you do, little oaf? Return to your precious Esgaroth and beg the humans to take you back? To scoop you up with open arms and place you back amongst their ranks?" he mocked.
"No!"
"What would you do, little oaf?"
Finally, after all the time she'd spent avoiding his gaze by burying herself in the dictionary, stormy grey met molten gold.
"You're right."
"Oh?"
"I would go back to them... I would go back, and I would turn them all to ash."
The two stared at each other in silence—one completely out of her mind and the other caught within his.
Finally, Smaug hummed, seemingly satisfied with her answer. And with that, the crimson dragon nuzzled more deeply into his gold and prepared to sleep. Arya turned her back to him and returned to staring blankly at the pages beneath her fingers. She rubbed at her warm eyes. She felt drained. She felt like she was finally about to cry those tears that she had wanted to shed not minutes ago—though now they were more out of frustration than fake-grief for the charred crook.
With a shaky sigh, she snapped the book closed and curled up on her side. She burrowed her face into the dwarfish blankets that lined the inside of her makeshift nest and squeezed her eyes shut.
Smaug glanced over at her once more before he too closed his massive eyes.
I would turn them all to ash.
He sighed contentedly, sending a trail of grey smoke and ash spiraling to the ceiling above.
"Perhaps one day we will."
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This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Yes. A character's inner turmoil and anguish over the fact that she is no longer able to identify with humanity is fun. Don't judge until you write something like it yourself. Then you too will realize how enjoyable it is to make life so agonizingly difficult for your characters ;)
Of course, losing touch with her empathy for humanity also means a closer bond with Smaug, so that's good too.
Hope everyone enjoyed—I know it was a tad darker than usual and not as comical, but shit needed to go down.
Until next weekend!
