A/N: Still accepting OCs. Alright guys, this is it. One of the first chapters I envisioned for this story. A lot of things have been changed and adapted since the original concept, but hopefully it's been for the best. Recent reworks of old ideas have allowed me to integrate so many new ideas and possibilities, all which kick off this very chapter. Alright enough hyping, let's get to it!
Hours? Days? With Aron's only indicator of time being the shadowed dragon occasional shuffle or adjustment, he had no idea. It was so dark he could barely make out his own hands as he settled in the empty cell's corner. Thankfully he had managed to relieve himself before at Loki's Pride, but now? Aron wasn't sure about how long he could hold it in. The red eyed dragon had made no other hostile attempts after the first, on the contrary, it seemed to relax. The mass of black scales had settled by the bars that separated their cells, it's eyes didn't show the previous animosity, only... Pity? Longing? Aron couldn't tell. Finally, the sound of movement outside caught Aron's attention.
The sound of jingling keys was almost as musical as the dragon's low growl was terrifying. Finally, it wasn't Aron's gate, but the dragon's that opened. Oddly, the dragon didn't lunge, only glared at the three Bearhides that entered the cell. Finally, Aron saw the beast with the torch's illumination. Needless to say, he was surprised. With it's pure black scales and silver markings, the red eyed dragon tried getting into its attack position, alas it's three tails were forced to remain braided by a heavy iron ring. Another ring kept the dragons wings forced together and both were connected to thick iron chains trailing to the wall of the cell.
"Alright boy, time to get to work," The first Bearhide announced. Now that he in the torchlight's glow, Aron took note of his attire. A long well trimmed mustache, the Viking was far from the usual raider, carrying several heavy gold rings on his fingers and gold coins on an expensive vest. Even the man's bear fur cloak was connected to his shoulder by golden pins. But the most disturbing feature was the man's right eye, a single golden orb fit into the socket. The other dark blue eye looked down as the other man, a gray eyed slave, slammed a mallet onto a buckler, the sound making the dragon coil back. Before it could recover, the slave rushed to take the chains and connected them to a heavy iron wheel. Aron was surprised by the speed it took, alas, the man with the gold eye and the slave took the dragon through the corridor, leaving the door open.
Aron wasn't sure what to feel, he was by no means a dragon lover. Yet seeing such a proud beast reduced and shackled like that... There was no glory in it. His thoughts were soon interrupted when more keys jingled and his gate was unceremoniously opened by none other than Wulf. The huge man was accompanied by two other Bearhides, a tall woman with reddish orange hair braided like the dragon's tail and another huge man carrying a heavy one sided axe.
A young woman had opened the cell and held a large ring riddled with keys. She was about Aron's age, with fiery red hair and bluish grey eyes. Unlike the other Bearhides, she wore a damaged vest that was more of a bunch of rags stitched together than an actual outfit, a slave. The Bearhide woman shooed her off, with a resentful, but subdued glare, the young lady rushed off.
"Beowulf has invited you to see an event at Thor's Pleasure," Wulf didn't waste a syllable. Aron tilted his head slightly, an invitation from Beowulf was the pretty much their best attempt to judge the situation. With a brief nod he stretched his arms and legs, enjoying the feeling of his own blood rushing through his body without drawbacks before walking out of the cell. Wulf led him in the opposite direction the girl had taken, but the same taken by the dragon and the man only minutes earlier. The dark tunnel soon led into an open cave with two exits and they came upon two sets of stairs. Aron could faintly hear cheering and a growing commotion from one exit and unconsciously headed to it, until a strong hand placed itself firmly on his shoulder.
"That way is the quickest way to die, come on, luckily for us you're getting the guest throne," It was the woman who accompanied Wulf. The man bore an amused smirk while Wulf himself continued to keep his neutral façade. The stairs led on for a while before natural rocks were replaced by arcs. Soon they weren't inside a cave system, but inside Thor's Pleasure, inside the arena of Grisly Island, Inside the Slaughterhouse. After so long in dark spaces with only brief flashes of light, Aron had to step back as he was nearly blinded by the midday sun.
"So the prodigal son arrives, since we're waiting for your father's reply, I found it fit for you to enjoy a little of the greatest arena in the archipelago!" Beowulf was sitting on a throne that faced the side of the stairs. The thrones were evidently trophies from raids of old, made of finely carved wood with gems and diamonds engraved on the sides. Large soft cushions was connected to the bottom and back of the throne. About four other similar, yet smaller thrones remained around it. Two others were already occupied. Two girls, one sat on the throne at Beowulf's left, yet leant further away from him.
Similar to his red haired guard, the girl wore a dark vest and short leather gauntlets. On her forehead was a metal studded leather head band. Although her right blue eye seemed focused on the arena bellow, Aron caught a brief glance at him before she returned her focus. The girl's left eye was mostly hidden by black bangs. Somehow she succeeded in tying her long hair into a single braid. Despite the lying tension, she looked calm, almost bored. Sigrid Margrethedottir, Beowulf's only daughter and heir. Aron had talked to her in a meeting of Chiefs a few years back, he wasn't sure if she remembered it.
The other girl looked far less comfortable, sitting on the throne on the far right of Beowulf's. Aron had never been so happy to see those amethyst colored eyes and that wild wavy burgundy and gold hair tied together into several braids and interconnected by beads marked with strange symbols. Although many would look wistfully at her form, Aron would never see his own cousin that way. Long sleeved purple tunic beneath a dark leather coat with white fur lining around her long neck. Juniper Silverblood, heir of the Triquetra, Aron's cousin and apparently, also Beowulf's 'guest'. Her scowl turned into surprise when she saw Aron, yet soon returned to a scowl as she noticed Beowulf's attention.
"Sit down Aron, I arranged quite a spectacle for you two," Beowulf made no gesture to make the choice for him, so Aron sat on the throne set between Beowulf and Juniper. The dagger on his boot heavy. Alas, he was likely to die in at least ten different ways if he tried anything, best to save his trump card for a better opportunity. The arena was covered in sand, with four gates, each set in a cardinal point. Considering Beowulf's pride, they were likely right over the northern gate. The arena was empty, save for a few walls of wood and a weapon rack right by the eastern gate. So far up, Aron could barely make out the spears, axes, swords and bucklers set. But the crowd, wow, Aron knew most were Bearhides but Grisly Island was legendary for it's arena battles. The stands... Aron counted at least five rows of excited Vikings branding mugs and cheering. A few held strange devices over their eyes.
"Binoculars, we found a prototype in a raid a few weeks ago, my men managed to make more," Beowulf noticed Aron's interested and revealed the device. Twin tubes slightly longer than Aron's hand, lens were kept on both ends. It seemed Beowulf had spares, since his guards distributed them to the others. Sigrid looked at it like it was something she'd just scrapped off her black leather boot. Juniper held it with mild curiosity. Aron was the first to try and wow, before he barely made out the weapon's rack, now he could see each individual weapon with ease.
"Pretty useful when scouting raid targets," Juniper finally spoke, a bitter tone of underlying anger burning through the diplomatic calm. Beowulf just nodded, ignoring the indirect jab, although Sigrid did look away. Aron was eager for a chance to talk with Juniper, maybe plot an escape or at least a plan B. His father might not be coming for him, but the Three? Aron knew the only reason they didn't storm the place was because they wanted to solve things without bloodshed. Yet with Beowulf literally at his right, there was no way to speak privately without being caught. Before they could try though, a loud horn cut through the noise and left the massive arena in silence. On a stand at the opposite side of the Beowulf's stand, a small man with a strange conical object lowered the horn.
"Bearhides and guests! Welcome to the weekly arena fights in the biggest arena in the Archipelago! Welcome, to Thor's Pleasure!" The speaker's voice rang across the arena. The cheers returned, although tentatively. Aron couldn't help but notice several heads turning to Beowulf and his 'guests'. Alas, Beowulf made a small wave with his prosthetic, which meant waving that razor sharp arm over Aron and Sigrid's head. The crowd continued to cheer although not as heartily.
"Today, we have a brand new batch of knights to show us some of that southern courage!" The speaker gestured to the gate close to the weapon's rack. The crowd laughed and jeered. A group of slaves tentatively stepped into the hot sands, Aron could make out the spears of the guards inside the gate. Using the binoculars, Aron soon saw the old man from the ship. His stern face going over the weapons. The others didn't look half as certain, looking at the booing and jeering crowds with fear. Finally, the old man shouted something that Aron couldn't discern and slowly, the four other slaves hesitantly selected weapons from the rack. Although still hesitant and hammered with jeers, the slaves turned to the gate on the opposite sound, roars could be heard.
"Now, the pride of Grisly Island, he's no Night Fury but he's black as night and oh is he furious! The reigning champion of Thor's Pleasure! Three tails, thrice the strike! I give you, hatred incarnate, Hati the Triple Stryke!" The announcer gestured towards the other gate. The bars opened slowly and by the time they were halfway open, a massive black dragon surged out with a challenging roar. It was dragon kept on the cell next to Aron's, but now his tail was unshackled. The three tails spun and split into three hooked scorpion like tails, making him look even bigger. Aron took note of how it tried spreading it's wings, although they remained shackled. Red eyes glared down on the slaves.
Now everyone was focused, dragons were unpredictable. Any more words might take his focus from the easy prey and onto the crowd. The walls of the arena were large enough to stop him from climbing and attacking, yet those were very big tails. The old man shouted something incoherent and raised his short sword, running to face the dragon, two other slaves, young men, followed him. The remaining slave ran away, jeers following them. All had claimed spears from the rack.
"You know, we usually have to offer them freedom to get them this hyped," Beowulf commented as they watched the triple stryke rush forward. The shackled wings left it unbalanced yet he used powerful hind legs and deadly forearms to dart around the wooden walls. The dragon was agile, soon meeting with the old man. Aron watched it all from his binoculars although he knew from the start that the old man didn't stand a chance. Oddly enough, the triple stryke paused upon seeing the old man up close. The dragon walked around the three slaves for a few brief seconds before the old man charged, spear in hand.
Had he blinked, Aron would have missed it, he wished he had. Fast as a bullwhip, the triple stryke's middle tail darted forward, hitting the old man's chest and sending him flying back from the impact, making him slam into one of the wooden walls. Surprisingly, the impact didn't kill the old man, who for the first time, released a scream of sheer and absolute pain. He had lost his spear during the throw and now squirmed in obvious pain, red staining the center of his tunic. That left his comrades unsure of the massive dragon.
"Poison, each of his tails generate a different one. A disobedient slave once told me that it was like his blood was on fire after being pricked by the middle one," Beowulf was smiling like a proud parent. Juniper covered her mouth with her hands in horror while Sigrid averted her eyes to focus on the remaining slaves, was it worry on her expression? Aron couldn't take his eyes off the triple stryke, Hati. The dragon was approaching the squirming old man with his head down. Odd, at such short distance the dragon could easily rip him apart with his jaws. Alas, whatever the dragon planned on doing, the two slaves gathered some courage and charged with the spears. Their mistake, the three tails united into a braid before slamming into them, sending them flying back. The dragon roared and clacked the pincers on his forearms. That's when the remaining slave appeared, he hadn't be running away, on the contrary. Now he charged from behind with a final spear. At the same time the two slaves stood up and made a final charge.
Then the unbelievable happened, the dragon's legs gave away before he rolled out of their aim. As they tried to stop their charge, Hati's tails flashed. All three were thrown back by the sheer force of the slam. Soon they began to show different reactions, the one struck by the left tail was running back to the battle like he didn't have a massive wound on his chest. The one struck by the middle tail squirmed in pain just like the old man, although he was far louder. Finally, the one struck by the right tail was just walking around confused, his spear left on the ground.
"Three tails, three toxins, the crowd loves betting which one he'll use," Sigrid finally spoke just as Wulf's companions exchanged a bag of silver coins. The bald man looked sternly at them before returning to look around the crowd. But Aron's focus was far from the guard, instead directed at the battle. Now the triple stryke was taking his time, he took the man who didn't notice his wounds in his massive jaw and with a sickening crunch, broke several bones including the slave's spine. Yet Hati didn't gobble down the man like Aron had seen some dragons do back in Blitz, instead he hurled the broken corpse onto a nearby wooden wall. Finally he moved closer to the old man and the other victim of the middle tail. He didn't bite them or stab them with his tails, instead, short forearms lunged and with brutal cracks, broke their necks as cleanly as possible.
"Never seen a dragon do a mercy killing," Aron spoke up, dragons back in Blitz were like cats. Proud, vain and just loved toying with their food. Yet the triple stryke wasn't just efficient, he was quick.
"Hati is like a Sea Reaper, no fun unless it's a challenge," Beowulf replied with a dismissive wave of his remaining hand. Even as the crowd cheered, the triple stryke roared furiously at them, obviously disliking the attention. Yet the speaker blew the horn, silencing the crowd and even making the triple stryke step back. Suddenly, a light sound, so far away and barely audible, caught Aron's ears. It sounded like raindrops clashing against rock, a 'pitter-patter' of sorts.
"Hatred incarnate has overwhelmed southern courage! But can Hati defeat the pulverizer? Bearhides and guests, I present thee, Goliath!" The speaker had barely finished when the new dragon burst through the halfway opened gate, splinters flying everywhere. It was an odd dragon, with six stumpy legs and a short tail. Alas it had a powerful upper body and thick forearms. A powerful jaw clenched upon seeing Hati and it soon released a challenging roar. The crowd went nuts with cheers, to Aron's disgust, it seemed that those slaves, who bodies still bloodied the sands below had been nothing but Hati's warmup.
"We usually leave them alone, as you can see thunderpedes are strong enough to reduce boulders to dust," Beowulf caught their attention. Sigrid looked surprised at the new dragon, who was now trying to circle Hati. The black and silver dragon copied him, both making mock charges and testing the other. Juniper looked at the mangled corpses of the slaves, she had grown as pale as Erron as the fight had progressed, her reaction being the polar opposite of the cheering crowd.
"So this... Goliath, is a special presentation?" Juniper asked warily, Beowulf nodded. It dawned on Aron that the Bearhide chieftain had been cheerful, almost eccentric ever since he saw him on the arena. Was that an act for the crowd or for his daughter? Aron wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Two men got nearly every bone in their bodies broken capturing him, thankfully we found some herbs that keep him drowsy enough to keep him from escaping, though my slaves usually just open the gate and run after letting him loose." Beowulf nodded and smiled like he had just told a joke. The guards chuckled, only Wulf remained impassive. Alas the girls and Aron just looked blankly. Beowulf shook his head and gestured to the arena.
"And you left him in the cell next to me because..." Juniper questioned, she was the type of act calm regardless of the situation, though the recent bloodshed had left her unbalanced. Aron could tell she was getting angry but forcing diplomacy.
"I decided to show you the difference between a drugged thunderpede and an active one, there are plenty of them here on Grisly Island." Beowulf replied in the same diplomatic tone. Juniper frowned before returning her focus to the battle with reluctance. To Aron, the message was clear, running into Grisly Island's wilderness was suicide and Beowulf chose this dragon to show that.
Goliath was the first to snap, rushing forwards with a furious roar. Once again, Hati just rolled out of the way and tried to stab him with one of his tails. The thunderpede was too fast, running past the remaining wood walls like they were nothing. It released a cry of outrage before stopping and turning around, angry yellow eyes seeking out Hati. But the triple stryke was intelligent, rather than charging head on, the strike class predator was going around the arena. Aron used the binoculars to get a better look, Goliath moved slowly, short legs clumsily rotating as the dragon tried to find his foe. On the other hand, Hati was curled beneath one of the remaining walls, awaiting for his opportunity.
Finally, when the thunderpede had his back to Hati, the triple stryke lunged. Thanks to the binoculars, Aron managed to see the dragon twist his thick waist and slam his braided tails on Goliath's back. The dragon lost his balance and fell to the side. Yet, muscular arms helped it to regain footing. Again, if he had blinked, he'd have missed it. The triple stryke lunged, yet the thunderpede managed to notice him, turning to slam a powerful fist against Hati's snout. The force behind was so great that Hati was sent sprawling through the arena, slamming on the wall and leaving a small web of cracks. The thunderpede roared, his knuckle seemed badly torn, like someone had shaved off the scales and even one of his claw had fallen off. But Goliath was furious, the pitter patter of his legs signaling an upcoming charge.
"Stop the fight!" Beowulf hollered, that's when Aron saw them. Around the lower seats, a group of archers had been set up. At their chieftain's behest, they fired arrows at the thunderpede. The dragon coiled back and roared in pain, stubby legs stumbling backwards. Even with the binoculars, Aron couldn't see the full extent of the injuries. Yet soon enough, Goliath dropped on the ground like a rock. The triple stryke was still dazed, his red eyes slowly accessing the situation. Bearhides ran out of the gates like a swarm of ants, soon enough Hati's tail was shackled and he was taken back to the gate by spear tip. Goliath on the other hand, Aron noted the steady breathing. The lumbering creature was dragged by four massive Vikings. Some people booed but most remained silent. Challenging Beowulf was never a smart choice.
"Can't lose your best fighter can you?" Aron asked with the hint of a snark. Beowulf had made a mistake revealing the dangers of the thunderpede, a dragon meant to be a threat. However, it also made it a threat to the Bearhides. The triple stryke on the other hand was a prime specimen. Being held next to little chance for trouble. The black and silver dragon gave a final roar before being muzzled and dragged back through the gate. The thunderpede left deep marks as it was dragged through. Juniper looked at the captive dragons with a mixture of relief and pity. Odd, some Vikings would call them mere beasts. Aron had a deep respect for other species, his father even taught him how and allowed him to train a hunting dog a few years back. Alas, for Vikings, dragons shouldn't be considered mere beasts, they were the enemy. So why was Juniper relieved? Why did Hati look so curiously at him earlier? So lost in his wondering, he only noticed Beowulf's scowl when it was too late.
"Take them back to their cells, their tribes should send their replies at midday, if not... We'll see how hatred incarnate goes against Sea Reaper and Triquetra stubbornness," The chieftain spoke the last part so quietly that only those present heard. Sigrid's expression turned to outrage, yet she didn't defy her father. The guards attempted to raise the two heirs yet, angry but prideful, Aron and Juniper rose and slowly joined their escorts. Juniper mouthed something to Aron, but the Sea Reaper couldn't make out the words as they were led opposite ways. The way back was even darker, now that Aron had adjusted to the light. It seemed like the big events were over, the sound of footsteps over him revealed a large group leaving the Slaughterhouse. By the time Aron arrived, Hati was already shackled on the cell next to him. The Viking flinched before the gate, the look Hati was giving him... It was just like Moonfang, the hunting dog his father gifted to him. The same eager look. The guards didn't notice it, Wulf unceremoniously pushing him into the cell before locking it.
"So... Hati is it?" Aron asked, the dragon's braided tails moved within the confines of the chains, waving. The dragon wasn't that injured, Goliath's punch might have given it a concussion. Maybe? Triple Strykes weren't native to the southern archipelago, even then, sightings were rare. Some explorers said they were uncommon northwest of the Viking settlements but few Vikings journeyed that way. Thick mists and storms were a constant in that road.
The dragon didn't speak, but dropped on his haunches. The two large pincer like forearms clicking as he poked the cell. Aron wasn't so sure about the dragon anymore, he reminded him too much of Moonfang. Thinking of the old snowy white hound left him homesick. Then a tiny slot opened on the gate of Hati's cell. A fish was passed through. The hungry dragon moved like a snapping whip, taking the fish in a single gulp. Aron had been so surprised by the sudden movement he nearly missed when a clatter on the lower part of the gate caught his attention. A steel slot on the bottom, barely big enough to shove a plate through opened. A frail pale hand passed in a rudimentary plate of food. A big uncooked fish and some hopefully edible herbs.
"You know, I never seen a dragon act so friendly so quickly," A voice, definitely female, commented from the other side of the gate. Aron retrieved the bowl and sat with his back to the gate, eyeing the meal with a hint of distrust. Beowulf mentioned drugs that kept Goliath down, could he try using a smaller dose to keep Aron passive? Despite being a heir, Skarf had no remorse. Aron had adapted from youth to spend days without food. Even when it felt like someone dropped change wing acid on his stomach. Alas, the girl's comment caught his attention.
"You say it like dragons can be friendly," The black haired heir replied, adjusting himself near the slot so he could catch the girl's reply.
"They can, offer them some extra fish or comfort and they stop growling when you get near, never had the chance to try anything without the gate between us though," The answer took Aron by surprise. Last year, Skarf had taken him to the Eye of Odin to see the upcoming challenges. The mentor, Ragnar the Legend had shown him how he kept the dragons alive. The recently captured dragons reacted with hostility every time. Maybe something was different in Grisly Island?
"Hati isn't from these parts though, one of Beowulf's raider found him near the eastern edge of the archipelago, shot him and his rider down, or so he says," The girl continued, she obviously hadn't a chance to talk with someone who would listen in a while. Yet, Aron couldn't help but laugh.
"A rider? Someone crazy enough to go on a dragon?" Aron wasn't a humorous person, yet the me idea shook him to the core. To any Sea Reaper, it was an awful joke. Yet, the way Hati treated the southerners, the way he rolled out of certain death, the same friendly look of Snowfang... Was it a possibility.
"Well, Harard the Gold, Hati's owner, keeps the saddle as a trophy back in his manor, Be... My old master took me there once," The girl hesitated before continuing. Now Aron considered the idea, he looked at his plate. The fish didn't look any less attractive, yet Hati was giving him a... Was it really possible for a dragon to give a puppy-dog eye? The black and silver dragon was difficult to make out the darkness of the cells, alas the look in those red eyes was unmistakable. Aron tossed the fish, thankfully, it flew through the bars. In a single movement, Hati claimed it and gobbled it.
"So, what's your name?" Aron asked the girl, a cocky smile spreading as he saw Hati look eagerly at him. The girl didn't reply, Aron wasn't sure if she was still there. Yet soon enough, a little lower than usual, a reply came.
"Alexis... Alex James," A southerner name, made sense. Aron couldn't see her, but he could see the cheerfulness in Hati's gaze. Skarf would laugh his head off when he heard this tale, Erron would make some awful joke and Kelda would ask how long until she had a shot at this insanity. Something no known Viking, much less a Sea Reaper had ever even considered. An idea so insane even a normal Viking wouldn't consider it. Alas, Aron was the worst type of Viking, a desperate one who had no intention of being made into a gladiator.
"So Alex, wanna try flying out of his Hel forsaken place?"
A/N: So sorry for the wait, school is back in full throttle so my writing time has been severely cut down. However I have no intention of dropping this story. Before anyone asks about Hati, don't worry I have an explanation for his near immediate kinship with Aron and his previous rider's origins. Although that's a reveal that will wait a few more arcs, you guys will never see it coming, probably. Don't forget to drop me a review and tell me what you guys thought, next chapter a lot of hinted and previously mentioned things will kick in so get ready.
Also, three new OCs this chapter: Alexis 'Alex' James and Sigrid from Kairi Avalon and the protagonist of the soon to be launched Legends of the Triangle story, Juniper Silverblood!
PS: Valuable lesson folks, never try getting something out of DocX and into a story file. My action resulted into the chapter error from earlier. Hopefully this never happens again.