Dragonese exists so some humans can understand dragons.
Anyway…this is a backstory for my OC dragon-hunter villain. In the original they were supposed to mostly hate each other to the end and the hunter was supposed to use that very Skrill's scales as a mask to cover his scar, but I changed it. I think it's sadder this way. Also, I have the Skrill's reason for the betrayal written too, but haven't polished it.
On a tall mountain near its peak, where the wind blows cold and snow lurks in the shadows year-round, a crimson-red Skrill drags itself over the rocky terrain. Blood streaks behind it. It has a mangled wing, broken spines on its back and crown, and an arrow in its neck and two in its chest and two more in its stomach.
The Skrill reaches a cliff ledge. A few more inches and it will fall hundreds of feet to the stony ground below. Sides heaving, the Skrill claws itself around to face the way it came.
"You," it snarls, blood spattering as it opens its jaws.
A man follows behind it, quiet-footed and confident. His green eyes are hardened beyond his young age, colder than the surrounding snow. A jagged, angle scar from his forehead to his cheek cuts across the right side of his face, just missing his eye. Dragon blood stains his armor and blonde hair.
He stops several paces away from the Skrill and eyes the multiple arrows embedded in its scales. "Did you hesitate?" he asks in grim amusement. Skrills are fast and powerful; it's hard to land a single arrow on one. "Well, I didn't."
"This is why dragons fight humans," the Skrill spits. "Why we did back then. It's fantasy that dragons and humans can live together."
"I agree." The man rests a hand on the worn hilt of the sword on his belt. "Which is why I'm going to kill you." The Skrill bares its teeth. The man traces the scar on his face with his other hand. "I don't hold all that much resentment for you. Considering you betrayed me in the cruelest way possible. I'm actually grateful you awoke me to reality. You dragons are devils that hurt and murder as you will to get your way."
"Aren't you the same, even to your own kind?" the Skrill rasps.
"I may be now," the man says, with an easy shrug. "For the end goal of my kind not needing to kill dragons or be killed by them, I'll become the strongest dragon slayer I can and get rid of whatever and whoever stands in my way. I'll eradicate your whole kind, so you'll be nothing but villains from a fairytale. Must be frustrating to know it's your own doing. You created quite the monster." He gestures to himself and smiles wider.
The Skrill snarls again, weaker this time. Its breathing is more labored and its eyes flutter heavily.
"Because you're special," the man says, "I'll give you a chance to say something before you die." The Skrill fixes hate-filled yellow eyes on him. It stays silent except its heaving gasps. "Huh. I truly expected something like, 'I should've killed you that day.'"
The Skrill growls, but the hate fades from its eyes. "Back then," it rasps, "I really did love you, Zenith." Its eyes droop shut, its lips cover its teeth, and its chin sinks to the ground.
The man's determination-hardened face flickers. Wavers. Then he slides out his sword with practiced ease, strides over the few steps between them, and plunges the blade into the dragon's heart.
He stands there a while, eyes vaguely on the motionless dragon at his feet. All around him smoke plumes rise from the surrounding forests and mountains. Distantly, dragons scream and men shout.
"I did too, Sully."
