Red has been updated 2020/02/09. Originally published in 2017.

Red

"Ahaha! Get angry! Let those seeds of rage sprout and show us your true self!" Khozen boomed in twisted amusement.

A low draconic roar permeated the air and the brightness of the fire lessened enough that Marth could uncover his eyes. However, as soon as he uncovered them, he wished everything that he saw before him was just some sick, twisted nightmare.

There stood, in front of Khozen, another horrific beast.

Flames erupted from its back as it roared. Marth could not believe what he saw.

Roy had transformed into a fire dragon.

Marth could barely breathe at the sight before him.

Roy was a fire dragon. His body was orange and yellow, and instead of having wings like Khozen, fire was erupting from his back and extended down his tail. Talons jutted out in front of his chest and horns lined his head. A strange strip of gold lined the sides of his neck, stomach, and tail, and small sharp crystalline spikes seemed to overlay some of his scales.

With a shake of his head, Marth quickly tore his gaze from Roy and stared at the ground.

"Gods," he could hear Cain mutter under his breath. "All this time…"

Roy let out a roar and stamped his front claws into the ground, causing a small tremor. Khozen let out a twisted laugh.

"Good! Now fight me like the dragon you are!" he demanded. Roy growled and rose up on his hind legs to lunge towards Khozen. They collided and their tails thrashed about, whipping through the air and slamming on the ground.

"Shit," Cain suddenly said. "We need to get back! We'll get hit by one of them if we stay here! Prince Marth!"

Marth didn't respond to Cain's call, however. Roy roared loudly, making Marth look up towards him again. Cain grit his teeth.

"Gah, sorry sire, but we really gotta move," the cavalier grunted before suddenly grabbing Marth and hoisting him up onto his horse. "Hyah!"

Cain rode away until they were at a distance that was safe enough from the two dragons before he stopped his horse. He looked back to Marth to check on him. Marth didn't move at all, and he stared intently at Cain's back, his thoughts clearly racing. Though this was not the first dragon he had ever seen, the idea of his mysterious friend being a manakete like this had never once crossed his mind...

"Marth!" came Caeda's voice as she flew towards them with her Pegasus, with Jagen following right behind. Marth quickly snapped out of his daze and looked towards them.

"Caeda, Jagen…!"

"Are you both alright?!" Jagen asked, concerned. Caeda's Pegasus huffed loudly as she landed.

"Y… Yes, we are both fine," Marth responded and nodded. They both seemed relieved at that.

"Good," Caeda said. "There are two dragons out there… I thought there was only one here!"

Marth shook his head. "There… was… but…" he paused and glanced over. "One of those dragons is Roy."

Jagen tensed instantly. "Roy?!" he repeated and looked out towards them still fighting each other.

"Yes…" Marth responded, hesitant. He wasn't sure of what to do, and Jagen looked towards him. It had been a long time since he saw confusion and fear gripping his lord like it was right now. The last time it happened was back when Marth lost his family and had to escape to Talys. There was a heavy silence as the old paladin considered his words carefully.

". . . Prince Marth," Jagen said, drawing Marth's attention. "… We can trust him."

Marth was clearly surprised. "Wh… what?" he responded dumbly.

"We can trust Roy, even if he's like this," Jagen said and looked out to Roy and Khozen fighting again. "… He clearly knows who his comrades are. He will not attack us. Leave that enemy dragon to him."

It was clear that Jagen's words took not only Marth, but all three of the others there by surprise. After a few moments of silent consideration, Marth's brow furrowed, and he nodded curtly.

"Right," he said, his voice returning to normal. "We will busy ourselves with the rest of our enemies and leave the dragon to Roy!"

Roy's eyes glanced towards them as the group rode away to rejoin the fray. Khozen let out a maniacal, growling laugh, drawing Roy's attention back to him. Khozen bore his fangs and moved his head, shifting his weight to taunt at Roy. A growl escaped Roy's throat and he lunged towards Khozen once more, their claws tearing at each other and their jaws snapping as they tried to rip at each other's necks.

The ground shook and the air whipped about as their tails slammed into the earth and sliced through the air; fire bellowed out from their maws as they scorched each other's hides and the foliage around them.

Bantu watched the two of them from a safe distance away, his old eyes narrowing at the sight. There were many things different about Roy's dragon form that he had never seen before, even throughout all his years of life, that puzzled him; from his scales to his horns and even his wings of flame, Bantu found himself wondering where in the world such strange looking dragons would exist.

However, even beyond his appearance, there was something else Bantu noticed about Roy that troubled him; he could sense Roy's energy and how it was seemingly stifled—like he was straining himself to be in the form he was, which, for Bantu, meant one thing: the boy was no pureblooded dragon, and the use of the firestone was taxing him greatly. And as if that wasn't enough on its own, it seemed like there was another power struggle going on inside him, like a bubble straining not to burst.

". . . But he is holding up well, even with that conflict within him," Bantu grumbled to himself before turning his attention back towards another group of approaching enemies.

"Ahahahaha!" Khozen laughed madly once more as he and Roy exchanged talons, ripping into one another. "Yes, keep fighting, you fledgling, and show me your budding power so I can crush it with my claws and shred it apart with my fangs! Your fury will only get you so far!"

A deep growl bellowed forth from Roy's throat and he let out a roar. Blood had gushed from his wounds, and the pain of those mixed with his transformation was starting to become unbearable. He only had a fraction of his energy left to end this fight and be the victor, but Khozen was not yet weak enough for a final blow. Perhaps if his own power was used against him…

Roy's arms tensed and his head reared back as fire started to build in his chest and travel up his throat. His tail slammed into the ground as he whipped his head forward, a massive ball of flame shooting forth from his maw right at Khozen. It burst upon impact, the force of the fire causing Khozen to rear back and let out a low screech. The fire burned him hotter than normal flame, and he stumbled back as he tried to keep himself steady.

"What kind of flame is that to melt through the scales of a dragon!" he roared, baring his fangs once more at Roy. "I will show you your place!"

Khozen breathed in deep, the air around him increasing in temperature dramatically as his own flame breath built in his chest. Roy roared and followed suit—embers flitted through the air and the area around them became unbearably hot as they both readied their final blows. Though the others had put distance between themselves and the two warring dragons, the increasing intensity of their flames becoming unbearable.

"Prince Marth," Jagen shouted as he pulled his lance from one of his few remaining enemies. "You need to get away from here lest you be scorched! Let me take you away from here! Our enemies may fall to their flames, but you cannot!"

Marth nodded in agreement, the building heat causing him to sweat more than he already was. "Yes," he said simply before quickly pulling himself onto Jagen's horse. As Jagen rode them a safer distance away, Marth looked back to the two dragons, his brow furrowing as he bit the inside of his lip.

Roy grumbled as his veins surged; something within him making the flame in his chest burn hotter than before, almost to an overwhelming degree. This was his last effort—after this, he would be spent—so it was all or nothing, even if taking out Khozen cost him his life.

Khozen let out a roar as he whipped his head forward, a huge ball of flame bursting forth from his mouth. Roy followed suit, and a ball of white-hot flame shot at Khozen's before they collided.

A blinding light swallowed the field around them as the flames exploded—scorching hot winds pushed back everyone and everything not absorbed by the light, sending many of the Akaneian League members and their enemies flying.

Marth shielded his eyes from the light and Jagen's horse neighed loudly as it stammered back, almost bucking the prince and the knight off.

"Gods-!" Jagen shouted, though his voice was drowned out by the wind.

After a few moments, the wind died down enough that Marth could finally move his arm from his eyes. He squinted as he looked to the field were the two dragons were once standing and was surprised by what he saw—both dragons were still standing, their gazes locked on one another. Their breaths were labored, and both were clearly exhausted.

"H…ah… Even… after all this…" Khozen barely wheezed out, "to be… bested by a child... Emperor Medeus… I…"

His arms buckled as he stumbled forward and collapsed to the ground, the evil dragon finally breathing his last. Roy's eyes were trained still on Khozen's corpse as he breathed heavily, fatigue finally setting in and weighing him down like a ton of bricks. He closed his eyes and let out a disgruntled groan as he stumbled, his tail falling limp behind him as he fell to his stomach. His draconic form caught flame and dissipated, leaving naught but his weary human form left, on his hands and knees, battered and bruised from his fight.

All the sounds around him were muddled, as if he were underwater. He could hear what sounded like shouting, and perhaps the hooves of horses and footsteps, but his head was too heavy to lift to look around him. The charred grass and dirt beneath him were all too interesting as his eyes tried to focus. It was like his mind was lagging, like he was in a dream… maybe if he just took a quick rest, he would be okay.

His eyelids grew heavy and just as he was about to let darkness consume him, an arm wrapped under his chest and pulled him back, startling him out of it.

"—oy! Roy!" Marth shouted. "Don't close your eyes here, you'll-!"

Roy gasped for air and his hands scrambled to grip at the ground and Marth's tunic. His eyes were wide for a moment as he whipped his head around to get his bearings before he looked up towards Marth. "Marth…?!" he spoke, his throat raw and his voice raspy.

"Yes, it's me," Marth responded with a nod, "You're awake, thank the gods."

Though Marth seemed relieved, Roy could not find himself able to rejoice in quite the same way. His whole body ached, he was covered in deep cuts and bruises, and his insides felt like they had been ripped apart. Everything hurt.

The prince, noticing his friend's pain, looked towards Jagen. "Jagen, please go find Maria and Lena as quickly as you can," he ordered. Jagen nodded and quickly rode off on his horse in search of the two.

Marth's attention turned to Roy once more as his friend started to cough. His grip tightened on Marth's back and his eyes clenched shut as his expression contorted from the pain.

"Hang on," Marth spoke quietly. "We'll get you healed up as much as we can…"

A short while later, Jagen had returned with Lena and Maria, who quickly got to work on healing Roy's wounds. Bantu slowly approached them, his eyes fixed on Roy, who was lying back on the ground, staring up wearily at the sky. Marth glanced towards the older manakete as he approached before turning to him. "Bantu," he said and nodded. Bantu slowly nodded back at Marth before drawing his attention to Roy once more.

"… I suppose I do not have to ask you how you feel," Bantu spoke.

Roy, without moving his head, shifted his gaze towards Bantu, and his expression told Bantu more than enough about his current condition. There was a long, tense silence as Lena and Maria finished their work and rose to their feet.

"We've done what we can for now… you should be out of any immediate danger," Lena spoke softly. "Though you will probably still be sore for some time."

Roy nodded a little and cringed as he pushed himself up, sitting up on the ground. "I would rather be sore than on the brink of death…" he mumbled. "Thank you, I am in both of your debts."

Maria smiled at him and rocked on the balls of her feet. "You'll just have to get us presents at the next town," she teased, which got a faint smile out Roy .

"It's the least I can do," he responded.

Lena smiled and bowed a little. "There are others that need our help, so we will be off…" she said. Jagen brought his horse back to them so both her and Maria could be taken back out to the others that needed healing.

Once they were gone, silence fell between the three that remained. Roy was staring at the ground in thought, and Marth pursed his lips. Roy then turned his head to look at Bantu.

"Bantu," he started. "… I have a lot of questions."

Bantu's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. "I am sure you do…" he said slowly as Roy carefully pushed himself up to his feet.

". . . Did you know?" he asked hesitantly as he looked at Bantu again. Marth looked from Roy to Bantu, keeping silent.

". . . I had a hunch," the old manakete replied truthfully. "But what transpired is not what I expected."

"'What transpired?' What do you mean?" Marth asked.

"I was not expecting him to turn into a dragon," Bantu said as he glanced to Marth. "Though the stone I gave him would affect his strength, I was not expecting him to transform as he did."

Roy furrowed his brow. "Why is that?" he questioned, not understanding. "Dragonstones are used by manaketes to transform into dragons… so why would that be any different for me?"

Bantu turned his attention back towards Roy. "Because you are not the same as a manakete such as myself," he stated simply. "Your blood is weaker by a significant margin. No manakete would have expected you to transform the way you did."

The three went silent for a time and Roy stared at the ground, hard in thought. His fists clenched as he looked back to Bantu once more. "Are you saying then that my parents…" he started.

"You are no pureblood," Bantu clarified. "There is manakete in your lineage, but you were born of both man and manakete, not manakete alone."

". . . Is… that why everything hurt as it did?" Roy questioned hesitantly.

Bantu thought on it for a moment, carefully weighing his ideas. "It may have played part, yes. I could tell by your energy that being a Fire Dragon was less natural to your body… which tells me your lineage contains no Fire Dragon blood. Though manaketes of all kinds can employ the use of a Firestone, it can sometimes be more taxing for those that have never used one before… and it is multiplied by your diluted manakete blood. For one such as yourself, transforming in general would be taxing on your body, but pairing yourself with a stone that is different from your lineage would increase your struggle."

Roy nodded slowly in understanding.

". . . But," Bantu started once more, "even with all that said… I would not have expected it to injure you as much as it did."

That caught Roy and Marth both by surprise. "What do you mean?" Marth questioned him.

Bantu quietly stared at Roy, looking into his eyes as if trying to calculate something. After a few quiet moments, he took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them. He put his old clawed hand against Roy's chest. "Inside here, I could sense something… something inside of you that was trying to rip the dragon out of your body," he said, his voice low. "Something ripping your two halves apart from the inside… but I do not know what."

Something in his words sent a chill down Roy's spine. Something else had been trying to attack him, but from the inside- he didn't understand, but it seems Bantu did not, either.

The prince quietly watched from beside them, troubled. He wanted to say something, but he knew nothing more of which they spoke, so he elected to stay silent.

"Lord Volzhin," a general exclaimed as he quickly approached his lord on the top of Akaneia Palace's walls. "Khozin has been…"

"Defeated, yes," Volzhin said, not turning his attention away from the charred battlefield not far away. "Slain by a youngling dragon."

The general gulped quietly. "Y… Yes, my lord. What should we do? The army will approach the castle if we do not go out and…"

"Let them come," Volzhin responded, cutting the general off. The general seemed surprised.

"My lord?" he questioned.

"I said…. Let them come," Volzhin said as he turned his head to look back at the general, a small, dark smile on his face. "Ready your men—that's an order."

The general tensed and quickly saluted. "Sir!" he responded before quickly heading back inside.

Volzhin turned his attention towards the battlefield once more, and from beneath his coat, he pulled out an abnormal blackened tome. His old hand touched a page of the book and the smirk on his face grew.

"Yes... Let them approach these walls so I may lend them the opportunity to rip themselves apart; to stain these walls with their blood, shed by their comrades as I play them like puppets and march them to their death."