I, er, appear to have committed an oversight in my last chapter with the dream sequence; to those of you who have expressed enthusiastic hopes of Roy possessing the ability to become human, I am afraid I must disappoint you. In this universe, Dragons cannot shapeshift of their own accord, I'm sorry :( The prophetic nature of the dream, well, shall we say that a Mage's sleeping mind is a little more potent in what it tells its owner, and a million times more cryptic!
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
"My, sirrah, such a melancholy expression."
Edward jumped at the deep, amused voice as it boomed behind him. Glancing up, squinting against the bare whiteness of the cloud-strewn sky. Roy's head filled his vision, snaked out on his long neck, and the Mage snorted at him. "Melancholy is a sign of deep intelligence and philosophical reflection," he informed the Dragon, who laughed.
"Or sulking. Come, Fullmetal, what ails you? I would be lax in my duties as host if I did not enquire."
The Dragon settled as he spoke, bending first his forelegs then his rear to rest in a lion's pose, forepaws stretched neatly out in front of him. Edward took the opportunity to shuffle back, leaning his back against warm black scale; autumn was well-advanced now, whispering of winter, crisp in the wind's chill and rich in the riotous tumbling red of the tree's leaves, and metal limbs had a tendency to make one shiver. Roy lowered his head to nudge the Mage closer, breathing out a long, hot, sulphurous breath over the human's head. "I do not jest, Mage," he said, as gently as his gruff voice could allow. "Do not think your seven-night misery has passed unnoticed. You had not even the energy to bicker with the carter, when he came."
Edward had to smile at his host's perceptiveness. "Perhaps I have merely developed a mature and mellow temper under your guidance?"
"And perhaps the herds of swine cultivated by humans have taken to the sky like birds. Pray, do not insult my-"
Before the Dragon could complete his retort, however, there came a sharp, bugling cry from the distant trees at the base of the volcano. Roy immediately tensed to rise, muscles bulging beneath scaled skin. "Get inside the keep."
"Wh-"
The Dragon rose, a low growl beginning in his throat, accompanied by the crack of his tail lashing. "I do not think you would wish to witness murder," he snapped. "Only the Knights of Seremayde announce their arrival with that note. Dragonslayers, Dragonslayers all, hunting egg-mothers and burning dragonets whilst they sleep; get you gone, Fullmetal!"
Roy's voice rose as he spoke, growl reverberating up to a ferocious crescendo that shattered in Edward's ears; fear gripped him, instinctive, gut-wrenching fear that had not held him in its paralysing grasp since the Dragon had first pinned him to the floor with fire glimmering behind massive fangs. There was no trace of Edward's gentle, sarcastic, deeply-intelligent friend in this beast, this mighty serpent demon screaming its challenge to the sky. The Mage scrambled to his feet, no thought of argument in his mind, and ran for the castle; he could feel Roy's footsteps throbbing through the ground as the Dragon began to pace angrily, scoring the rock beneath massive talons with torturous squeals. Edward ran, his heart thudding loud in his ears, and did not slow until the now-familiar pitted wood of his door swung open before him and he fell into the safety of his own tower bedroom.
Panting from exertion, the Mage stood for a moment, leaning on his staff, then scrambled to his window, muttering a charm of clear vision to enhance his view; out in the courtyard Roy was still circling, wings mantling, straining against their chains, gouts of fire spilling from his lips as he paced like an angry cat.
Time passed, measured only by Edward's gradually-slowing breaths and the restless movement of the Dragon; then footsteps in the keep, echoing throughout the castle's emptiness, metallic footsteps of full battle armour thudding on the worn stone. In the yard, Roy halted, dropping to a crouch. "Come to me, Dragonslayers!" he roared, loud enough to quiver the stone of the castle's walls. "Come to your deaths!"
As Edward watched from his high tower, the dark shadows of the massive doorway spewed forth the shining figures of four burly knights, each as tall and broad as Alphonse, each clad in what looked to be battle-hardened armour, bright with polish but battered with long use. Edward realised, with a sickening chill, that each Knight sported a necklace of Dragons' teeth about his neck, trophies displaying their prowess. Each also wore a helmet topped with an extravagant plume of turquoise feathers; the Seremayde Knighthood's trademark, a badge of honour won only by the Knight's first kill. Edward had heard tales of their valour, their nigh-inhuman bravery in their quest to vanquish great titanic beasts from the world; and yet, in all of the tales told about them, never once was it actually explained why these creatures required vanquishing.
Certainly Roy did not.
The Dragon's claws were biting into the ground, rending it apart as he kneaded his paws in ferocious anticipation. "I would know the names of my assassins."
The lead Knight, distinguished from the others by the sheer mass of fangs hanging from his neck, raised his visor at the Dragon's hail, stepping forwards to bow; a great flail hung from his waist, glinting with frost and acid enchantments, there was a broadsword strapped to his back and he held in his hand a spear that was half his height again. "Anlock of Drask," he said, on rising from his bow; his voice was accented with the soft, loamy tones of the southlands. "Lord Knight Commander of the Seremayde. I present my companions; my brother, Sir Anwyn of Drask, Sir Gerhard of Rhicht and Sir Fawleston of Moldevin's Lake."
The three other Knights stepped forwards in turn. Each was as heavily armed as the leader, sporting a grisly array of swords, war hammers, wicked curved scimitars and swords. Each hefted a halberd in his right hand.
"I have never heard your name spoken, Lord Drask," Roy said, dismissively. "Though your courage must be great indeed, if have slain so many of my brothers and sisters. Tell me, did you hunt them out in the high and low places of hiding, or did you actually hear tell of evildoing before seeking their heads?"
Anlock leaned on his spear, casually. "The evil of Dragons is inherent to their nature. You are lowly beasts, raised by unholy gods to human intelligence that you might thwart humanity's doings. It is only fitting and right that we seek to end your wickedness, as we have pledged to protect all peoples of this land."
Roy snarled. "What power have you to decide who may live or die? What right have you, ignorant meat sack, to condemn us without reason or proof?"
The Knight snapped his visor down in response, hefting his spear and dropping into fighting stance. "Your existence is proof enough! Die, foul creature!"
Quick as whip, Roy pounced, scattering the Knights like chaff, destroying their formation. The Dragon's tail lashed, slicing the air with a horrific whining noise as he focused on the lead Knight; Anlock raised a a hand as the Dragon drew in breath to flame, his lips moving in an incantation that Edward recognized as a guard against fire, and not a moment too soon. Fire engulfed the Knight, a broiling tempest of flame that ended with a roar of pain; taking advantage of the Dragon's intent, the other three Knights had seized their chance to sink their long-range weapons into him from three sides. This done, as the Dragon flailed to relieve himself of the pain, Anwyn, Gerhard and Fawleston each draw a new weapon from their belts and, as one, charged beneath the vulnerable underbelly.
Edward's hands clenched into fists as magic srpung, automatically, to his lips. This was not his fight. He could not interfere in the Dragon's battle, though his hands fought to trace circles of casting into the rock of the windowsill.
Below, the last leaves of flame were dying around Anlock, revealing the Knight to be completely unharmed. He, now, joined the fray, running headlong towards the Dragon, his spear pointed at the thrashing black throat. Perhaps sensing his danger, or perhaps reacting to the threat below, Roy threw himself into the air, rearing up on his back legs to his full, impressive height; the now-exposed Knights swarmed back, experienced enough in Dragon fighting to turn their backs as Roy once again turned the world red, descending through his flame to shake the mountain with his impact.
The smoke and dust raised completely obscured Edward's view, but he could catch glimpses of writhing scaled limbs, hear the pained oaths of the Knights and the terrible thunk of weapons into flesh. Heat burned the Mage's eyes, acrid with the black smog of the Dragon's fire, and he strained instead to try and distinguish what was going on beneath the churning fog.
The scene glowed red, orange, Roy screamed...Edward's heart was hammering in his chest, what could cause his host and friend to make so dreadful a cry?
Unable to stand it any longer, Edward hurriedly took a stick of chalk from his belt pouch and scrawled the symbol for 'wind' on the wall, muttering to light it and pressing his fingertips to its outer circle to send a gale gusting through the courtyard. Wind bullied the clustered dust cloud, nipped in all its edges like a sheepdog worrying its flock, and cast the seething mass high into the sky at Edward's bidding. The scene that it revealed was carnage.
Blood spattered the courtyard, rich red and brackish blueish-purple, both human and Dragon. Dented scraps of armour, some melted onto the grisly flesh they had been created to protect, littered the area, bone and meat and the awful debris of wasted life. Of the Knights, only Fawleston lay whole, his eyes wide open in death, his charred hand burned onto the crumbling hulk of his sword. In the centre of the battlefield, Roy lay unmoving, shimmering black scale turned dull with blood.
Horror gripped Edward, held him for a moment, then his training kicked in. Struggling up onto the parapet, staff held tight in both hands, the Mage launched himself into the air, barking an incantation that brought the wind skipping back to him, ruffling his clothes and snuffing his face in the manner of a friendly terrier as it slowed his headlong descent, cushioning his plummet so that he landed gently on his feet. Ignoring the gruesome evidence of combat, Edward hurried to the Dragon's side, putting out a hand to touch blood-sticky scale. Closing his eyes, the Mage concentrated.
The Dragon was alive. His life rhythm stuttered, though, as he touched it, skipped a beat, then burned like a brand as Edward brushed against it. The presence curled, spread its wings in answer to his silent question, and kinked like an amused smirk in his mind.
Fear not, Fullmetal Mage, I yet live, Roy's voice sounded, hoarse with exertion, inside his head. Though if you could stem the blood flow, I am sure that would assist my awakening.
In the end, it took nigh-on an hour for Roy to awaken.
Edward sat beside him the entire time, one eye upon the healings he had wrought upon the Dragon's battered hide. The Knights had known their business; huge scars now marred Roy's underbelly, terrible gashes split the weaker scales of his shoulders, and only the accursed silver chains had saved the Dragon's from being rent beyond healing. Luckily, Edward's casting had sealed the wounds, secured them against rot and filth, and he had only to wait for the Dragon to stir.
Roy shifted, enormous mass of muscles rolling and heaving, then his pearly eyes opened, dazed at first then growing sharper as they focused in on the Mage. "I owe you thanks."
"Indeed you do," the Mage agreed, covering the joyful leap of relief that bounded to life inside his breast. "Had I known you would be so wearied by your attempt to make human soup, milord, I should have offered my services sooner."
The Dragon laughed at that, clambering with infinitesimal weariness to his feet. "Alas, 'twas not any fight for a decent being. These hunters knew nothing of honour, there would have been naught but evil blood upon your flesh and metal hands."
"The Seremayde Knighthood is the organisation that has set humanity against Dragons," Edward said, calmly, feeling a jolt in his chest when the Dragon's look became- approving? Proud? "It is through their stories, and the legends that they have propagated, that we have taken all of our knowledge of you."
"Aye, you have the right of it, Fullmetal," Roy replied, with a yawn that showed every single one of his impressive array of fangs. "I take no joy in their deaths, where they would have glorified mine and taken my head for a trophy. Ah, I am getting too old for these ridiculous displays, I am utterly exhausted...will you go with me, Quicksilver Mage? I seek the comfort of my golden bed, and you have yet to tell me the nature of your sevenday depression."
Edward blinked up at the Dragon. "But...the courtyard," he said weakly.
The Dragon snorted. "Let the crows devour their sorry flesh," he snarled, flicking his tail in a derisive fashion. "You shall not escape my questioning so easily. Come!"
