Night of the Stars
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonheart or any of the characters, and the concept of the wheel was
taken from Gundam Wing.
Draco lie there, in chains and under a brilliant starlit sky, one that he was unable to see. He had
lived for hundreds of years, but even that wasn't long enough to prepare him for what came next.
His friend was to become his executioner. Fate was so fickle.
Draco felt the cold stone under his claws, and closed his eyes. This was the night that all was to
fall into place. There would once again be peace, yet not for forever. Draco knew the cycle that
humans had passed through many times before, and would continue to pass through. There
would be war, peace, and revolution. Sometimes, though, the wheel seemed to blur until it was
all just one big mess, and one couldn't tell black from white anymore.
A warm breeze blew over his still form; a breeze that brought with it the shouts of the war that
was occurring all around him. Maybe it would been better if he had never come here, never
helped Bowen in this fight. So many people wouldn't have died in this battle . . . or would there
have been many more?
Draco wasn't sure of the answer, and decided that he didn't want to know. But he knew that
there were no other paths he could take now; destiny would not unwind so that he could slip his
way through it's fingers.
The sound of heavy footfalls caused him pain, for he knew to whom they belonged. A lone tear
slid down his face, for he knew that the moment when his race became extinct was at hand. It
trickled down his scales, leaving only a barely noticeable trail of salt water. Draco watched as it
hit the ground, then turned to face his unescapable destiny.
Fin
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonheart or any of the characters, and the concept of the wheel was
taken from Gundam Wing.
Draco lie there, in chains and under a brilliant starlit sky, one that he was unable to see. He had
lived for hundreds of years, but even that wasn't long enough to prepare him for what came next.
His friend was to become his executioner. Fate was so fickle.
Draco felt the cold stone under his claws, and closed his eyes. This was the night that all was to
fall into place. There would once again be peace, yet not for forever. Draco knew the cycle that
humans had passed through many times before, and would continue to pass through. There
would be war, peace, and revolution. Sometimes, though, the wheel seemed to blur until it was
all just one big mess, and one couldn't tell black from white anymore.
A warm breeze blew over his still form; a breeze that brought with it the shouts of the war that
was occurring all around him. Maybe it would been better if he had never come here, never
helped Bowen in this fight. So many people wouldn't have died in this battle . . . or would there
have been many more?
Draco wasn't sure of the answer, and decided that he didn't want to know. But he knew that
there were no other paths he could take now; destiny would not unwind so that he could slip his
way through it's fingers.
The sound of heavy footfalls caused him pain, for he knew to whom they belonged. A lone tear
slid down his face, for he knew that the moment when his race became extinct was at hand. It
trickled down his scales, leaving only a barely noticeable trail of salt water. Draco watched as it
hit the ground, then turned to face his unescapable destiny.
Fin