~❦︎~❦︎~
Chapter XLV - To Blame Oneself
~❦︎~❦︎~
"Athena. Athena!"
Isolde raced to the hole in the dungeon's walls, chasing after her daughter, but before she knew it, the sleek gray cat had slipped through the cracks. The woman reached her hand out, but only felt the clean air outside of the castle. Not two seconds later, she found the larger opening in the wall, but when she poked her head out, there were only the fields billowing in the light sea breeze.
Shifting her weight, Isolde slowly spun around. Her eyes drifted across the dusty, cobblestone floor until reaching Henri.
The man gulped, sliding back. His soft, round eyes pleaded for help.
But Isolde averted her gaze from him, and instead focused on the black figure at the vast ends of the dungeons. His lungs pressed against the floor, and his whole body rose as he took a large breath. The monster's eyes remained closed, in a state of slumber.
Dark misty blues and hellish reds cascaded over the dungeon, and all the rage of the forests and toppling trees and wild beasts entered. Isolde's eyes narrowed, focusing on the black demon in the farthest corners of the dungeon. Her nose transformed into a beak, and she darted forward, spinning fast through the air.
Henri backed away, running toward the opening in the cave walls—far away from the raging mama bird.
"You beast!" she shouted, ramming her fists into the stony scales of Sir Claudius.
He lurched, his eyes opening. The dragon attempted to lift his body, but he was far too heavy, and his tail—now fully stone—dragged the floor. His hips had also begun to lose their mobility.
"You monster! How could you? What have you done to my daughter!?" Isolde spat at him in Irish Gaelic, her face twisting into a snarl.
Sir Claudius shook his head, lifting it only slightly above the ground. He looked to Henri for guidance, but the small, blond man continued to panic.
"I thought I could trust you! But you have corrupted her! She won't say a word to me. You have done something to her… and I will find it out! I don't care anymore if you perish. Athena needs to find a better companion than you anyway!"
The woman banged her fists into the dragon's stomach, and Claudius grunted with each blow. She was a lot stronger and stouter than she appeared to be. In a fit of rage, Isolde sputtered out insult after insult. Sir Claudius only stiffened up, protecting his undersides from her fists. And with each pounding, another set of scales seemed to turn from black to silver.
Henri squinted his eyes. Claudius' hips and back legs ceased their slight movement, molding into the floor.
"Isolde…" he whispered.
She kicked him, then kneed him in the gut.
Sir Claudius grunted and groaned, then… a sound came out of him like a whimper. He threw his massive claws over his snout, covering his eyes. His head slammed on the ground.
"Isolde," Henri yelped louder this time. It carried across the dungeon.
Still, she continued to fight the beast who weighed tons more than her.
"Isolde, stop! Please!" Henri's whole body shook. He had never produced such a loud sound in all his life.
The woman whipped around. "Why?" she retorted, her tall, slender form arching over.
"You're killing him, Isolde!" Henri shrieked, his voice cracking. His legs moved, kicking into the ground as he ran over. "See," he pointed, "his scales are turning silver."
Isolde lifted her head to see small streaks of silver run over his body, ending at his chest, like an old man who once had jet black hair that was now turning gray.
She fell into his arms out of exhaustion, and he caught her then laid her upon the ground next to Sir Claudius.
"Oh, why did I do that, Henri?" she whispered.
"It was a rash decision, I agree, Mademoiselle Byrne," he spoke, still trembling.
"Please. Call me 'Madame Everleigh'. Or, you may call me 'Isolde', as you have been doing." She collapsed, then went into a deep slumber.
Or has she fainted? Henri wondered.
He dragged her to the fireplace by her feet, before throwing his traveling cape over her and putting his hat under her head for pillow support.
"There," he said. "I hope she comes back to her senses when she wakes up."
The sound of his voice bounced off the walls, before coming straight back to him and ringing in his ears. He sighed, then trekked toward Sir Claudius.
The massive dragon's breathing became more shallow the closer Henri got—almost wheezing. Claudius removed his claws from over his head, revealing eyes that spoke of years and years of pain and torture. Of entrapment.
Turning to face Sir Claudius, Henri spoke: "Athena's disappeared again—"
Claudius reared back, his wings unfolding.
Henri shushed the dragon. "Oh, I believe she will be alright. No need to fear. I have no idea as to her whereabouts but, if she hasn't returned by sundown, I will go after her."
Claudius folded his wings again, then nodded toward Isolde.
Henri turned around, then grimaced as he faced Sir Claudius again. "Isolde was merely… out of sorts for a moment. Motherly anxiety, I suppose." Henri laughed slightly, then cleared his throat. "Old friend, I wish you could speak." Henri reached a hand out, touching Sir Claudius's snout.
The dragon closed his eyes, pressing into his friend's soft, baby-like hands that had hardly ever seen daylight.
"If you did speak, what would you say?" Henri stroked his fingers up and down the snout, beginning at Sir Claudius's eye slits and then going down to his nostrils.
The dragon opened his glowing blue eyes—small ponds enshrouded in a black forest. A thin black line lay in the middle of his eyes before it enlarged into a circular pupil. Henri noticed his reflection in the big black pit.
"If you could tell me, Sir—"
Claudius snorted, a wind of smoke issuing out of his nostrils and slapping Henri in the face.
"Right. Claudius. If you could tell me, Claudius, what was your relation with Mademoiselle Athena? I've had my suspicions, but I need confirmation." He looked off into the distance, at the resting form of Mrs. Everleigh. "Did you… love Athena? More than a companionship: a romantic love?"
Henri turned his head back to face Sir Claudius. The dragon's mouth widened as if to speak, and his teeth gleamed in the firelight—pearly white, cleaner, and clearer than any humans'. But soon, the dragon shut his jaws and nodded his head.
"I knew it!" Henri exclaimed, before covering his mouth and inching his head around to the fireplace. He sighed as Isolde still lay lifeless on the floor. "I think she must have fainted. It will probably take her a while to come to. Let's hope so." He reached up a hand to Sir Claudius. "Did… Mademoiselle Athena reciprocate this great love?"
Sir Claudius nodded again.
"I'm glad to hear that. I could tell that she loved you deeply." He laughed, throwing his head back, reminiscing. "I remember when she came into my shop for the first time, she told me that she had someone whom she loved, but he was vile and nasty and—"
The dragon whined, rearing his body backward, and slinging his head onto the ground.
"Oh, but this was a year or two ago, Claudius. Things have changed so much since. Why… My business is booming now! More than it ever has before. Anyway, I can tell that her affections for you have altered since. She is so much more steady now, and I know by listening to her story the other night, that she feels a great deal for you, mon ami." He sighed. "After all, she was but a child when she first entered my shop. And now, she is a woman," Henri declared in his silky French accent.
Sir Claudius raised one of his scaly red brows and twisted his mouth into a skeptical look.
"I've improved upon my conversational skills, no? I know how to talk to the common people regarding common topics now!" he sounded—a hint of pride in his tone.
I've never heard him speak this way before, Claudius thought, twisting his brows even more and snorting a puff of smoke out of his nostrils.
"But it all began with you, mon ami. You were the one who first corrected me when it came to conversational manners. And I… am eternally grateful for that." Henri smiled, shutting his eyes in contentment, and patted Sir Claudius on the nose.
"It's becoming awfully cold here," he said. The man then slid down upon the dragon's neck, landing on the floor. He nestled into the crevice of the dragon's chest then reached out a hand, feeling for a heat source from Claudius's heart, but the more he searched, the colder the dragon's flesh became. Henri winced, drawing his fingers back.
"Oh, Claudius, what are we going to do with you?" he said. "I hope that whatever Mademoiselle Athena is doing, she is out there searching for a solution. She must be."
Sir Claudius faced the other direction, staring off into the distance.
"You know, Claudius… I am proud of you."
The dragon's ears pricked, suddenly facing the ground where Henri sat.
"Oh, yes, I am. I'm proud that… even after twenty years—more than twenty years now—you never gave up hope. You managed to find someone to love you. You let someone come into your heart even after my disappearance."
Laying his head on the stones, Claudius shut his eyes. He let out what Henri believed to be a sigh; it was heavy and long, and a small stream of fire and smoke puffed out of his mouth. The dragon's skin rattled, and a low vibration emitted from his neck, tingling Henri's skin.
The fire's intensity dropped. Small radiant flames remained at the base, but nothing like what it had been when Isolde was tending to it.
"You know, Claudius. I've never even successfully tended to a fire. My whole life, I've had servants to do it for me. So, I have no clue as to how to bring back its warmth." He shook his head. "Those old women I used to learn from—the ones in their little cottages that I always thought could be witches—they tried to teach me. We would sit around the fireplace for hours, spinning yarns. But I never could keep a fire running, no matter how hard I tried. So I gave up. I devoted all my time instead to what I loved—the stitching, sewing, knitting, quilts, gowns, appliqués."
Tilting his head forward, Henri pressed his hands against the stones. He laid down amongst them but still leaned into the dragon. "Sometimes, Claudius, I think to myself, what if I hadn't been such a coward?"
Claudius jerked his head around, facing Henri, and grunted.
"Oh, you know it's true, Claudius. You knew it from the time when we first met."
Shaking his head side-to-side, the dragon made a crooning sound, like a baritone on the stage. It wasn't a song, but something like it.
"I've always been a coward," Henri continued despite Claudius's soft protests. He looked up at the black world around him. "I should have stayed with Isolde when she was healing me, instead of running off like a frightened boy," he snarled. "I was so afraid of those men from the pub finding me, that I couldn't handle being in that town anymore. I should have gone home to you, Claudius. I should have, and I curse myself every day for not doing so. I should have written to you, I should have told Isolde to let you know that I was healed. I should have done… so many things." His eye twitched, and the blackness of the dungeon sank into his skin. "But I'm a coward and a fool. You suffered for twenty years because of me."
Claudius nudged him in the side.
"It's no use, mon ami. Allow me to relieve myself of my burdens, please."
The dragon was taken aback, but he curled up and listened to his friend.
"I was too afraid to even write to you… afraid that… they would find the letters somehow, or that you would be upset with me, or… oh, I am not sure." Henri's face dropped into his hands.
Wrapping his long neck around the man, Claudius made the same crooning sounds; they vibrated within his neck, transferring to Henri's pale skin. The man's trembling subsided and he breathed in deeply.
"Thank you, Claudius," he said, reaching out and hugging his scaly neck. "Perhaps I got too carried away." He sighed. "I must admit, knowing that you are a dragon is… shifting my perspective on life to a good degree but… I am not totally surprised." Henri grinned, chuckling. "I should have known by all of the serpent imagery, the strange gold you paid with, the dragon tales. I knew there was always more to life than what happens during daytime, but I never would have guessed that I'd become a part of it. That I'd ever know the tales of the forest."
A faint glow surged out of Claudius's eyes. Like a candle withstanding the foggy mountain rain of the hills. The words of Henri enraptured him, churning the dragon's freezing heart. Blood once again pumped through his veins.
"Just out of curiosity, Claudius," Henri spoke, "if you were able to transform whenever you desired—as Mademoiselle Athena does—would you?"
Claudius immediately shook his head, curling his brows in frustration and disgust.
"Ah, well I suppose when you have been cursed for so many years as a creature you despise, you would hope to never have to be that creature again. I thought, for so many years, that perhaps you… admired dragons in some way, seeing as you always spoke of them. But now I understand, you were only trying to keep yourself alive." Henri brought his thumb up to his chin. "I don't think I would want to be anything else except human either. Perhaps a spider, so I could spin threads faster. But other than that, I'd like to remain human, so I could focus on my work." He turned, staring into Claudius's orbs. "You must feel the same."
The dragon paused, thinking for a moment, before nodding.
"I thought so. You and your writing. You couldn't just tell tales, like the dragons. You had to write it down, you had to let it stay. And you had to read the tales of others. You had to explore the language, going farther than where your reptilian ancestors went." Henri nodded, putting his arms behind his head, before shutting his eyes. "Yes, I understand completely."
Long, slow breaths emitted out of Henri's nose. His baby-like face, so untouched by the evils of the world, rested. His brows unfurled, and the lip he chewed on released from his teeth.
Claudius raked his eyes across the man's body—which was mostly covered by accurately trimmed fabrics and expensive garnishes. But then, on his left hand—the one that cut fabric, layered skirts onto gowns, and stitched intricate designs—there laid a scar. Silvery, and ashen—long and covered with a powdery substance to conceal it. The rest of the scar remained below his cuffs and sleeves.
The dragon leaned down, opened his mouth, and bit the man's cuff, carefully holding it in between his sharp teeth. He pulled the fabric down, revealing the rest of the man's arm.
And there it was. A long scar—the most likely culprit being a long knife.
Claudius winced, then dragged the fabric back up the man's arms.
It's my fault you had to see the wickedness of the world, Henri.