I awoke to the distinct feeling of my hands over my head; it was strange, since I normally sleep with my hands under my pillow, or being used as a pillow. I tried to pull them down, to wrap them around my body, but I felt an unfamiliar resistance. My head ached, but I forced my eyes upon to see that my wrists were bound by shackles, or manacles... I'm not very up-to-date on my S&M terminology, but my wrists are held in handcuffs that are in turn bound on a long chain to the wall, and it's something that probably ends in 'ackles.'

I gave the handcuffackes one more half-hearted tug before the reality hit me – I was trapped in what is probably a dungeon in a really weird world without my handy-dandy dragon to save and protect me, and moreover without me to save and protect him. I didn't know if he could talk with anyone else the way he could talk to me, but I'm not sure how great he'll be at playing charades when it's our lives on the line.

I started to pull at the chains more desperately, mindless to the fact that it was very-obviously not helping, and at the same time I started to scream for help. Neither of these things were expected to bring about any results, which was why I was so surprised when no more than a half an hour later, the dragon rider from before arrived, an evil-looking smile on his face and holding a tray of food.

He sat carefully next to me, sliding the tray towards me, "It's not poisoned, I promise you." The thought honestly hadn't crossed my mind – no one actually uses poisons in real life. At least, no one normal. That's the mistake I keep making – I'm assuming these people and this place is normal, modern. They're not. They live with firelight and music without guitars.

I looked at the man for a moment before deciding to just be crass and to the point; I'm not big on mind-games. They take too long, and as I've grown older I've only gotten more impatient. I pulled at my arms, wishing I could cross them across my chest and look threatening, "Where is Emerson?"

The man laughed, the sound deep and echoing off the walls of my cell as he leaned towards me, his breath hitching against the top of my head as he ran his hands over my handcuffackles. They unlocked, and he smirked as he pulled away, "Is that the green beast or the bay beast?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, quite aware of the fact that he was most definatly teasing me, "The big green dragon, you dolt." The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly placed them back in their rightful place just on the edge of his brow, and I continued with a vain hope that I was actually the slightest bit threatening, "I want to see him, and I want to see him now."

"For now, you eat, and we talk." With the toe of his boot, the man edged the food towards me, and I grimaced at it. Gravy, and mush. Am I a POW? "I am sorry for this," the man gestured towards my restraints, which were now hanging nonthreatening against the wall, "I was out, and not informed that you had been captured. You weren't meant to be imprisoned."

My mind flickered, and I licked my teeth as my memories flashed in front of my eyes, "You did this to me!" The man smiled unknowingly, like he was listening to a story. I was... shocked. Shocked like he had been when I called him a dolt. But damn it, I don't back down for the animals, or dragons, I care about. "I know you did – I heard you laughing, I saw your dragon!"

"I was not with my dragon, I was visiting the court," the man corrected politely, "The general who imprisoned you has since been beheaded. Once again, my deepest regrets." I snarled, knowing better. His laugh was... distinctive. Like a flowing melody, only the record that was playing it skipped all the time. It rang in my ears and almost gave me motion sickness, it stopped and started so suddenly.

Child? The voice was lonely in my mind, and desperately far away. My eyes widened, and the man noticed it immediately. He gulped, obviously thinking I'd seen something that had given away his ruse. Like I wasn't convinced enough that it was him anyway; I know dragons, or at least I know my dragon, and they don't take orders from anyone but their Rider, and they don't leave their Rider anywhere. Especially not in a time of war.

"My pardons, madame, I have forgotten my manners in my haste to right a wrong; my name is Murtagh, son of Morzan." He stuck out his hand cordially, and I grimaced as he kissed the back of my palm. That's just... corny. I didn't even think people actually did that back in the Renaissance times. "I must ask, where did you find your exquisite dragon?"

Oh God, I'm going to barf. Emerson, my mind reached out for him desperately. Now that I knew he was there, within my grasp, I was getting more nervous. I wanted him there, to tell me what to do so I could see him again, so I could see he was alright for myself. "Where'd you find yours," I questioned, knowing I'd better keep up both conversations at the same time.

"Eat," Murtagh smiled at me again, a creepy sort of smile that made my spine itch and my teeth clamp to suppress a scream. I gulped passed the lump in my throat as my mind reached out for the familiar connection between me and my dragon. I licked the front of my teeth in the process, and Murtagh attempted to soften his smile, "Please, I insist. I feel so bad about this misunderstanding."

"Then let me go; let me see Emerson," I shot back; at this point, I just have a reputation to uphold. Emerson, I called again, this time my feelings more panicked; I heard him, I know I did. And if he isn't responding, I don't want to know what that could possibly mean.

"No, no, eat first," Murtagh said, trying to sound like all this was for my own good, "And talk. I want to know more about you." Oh God, where's Emerson? This guy is creepy and I need to know what I should and shouldn't say!

Emerson, I screamed out, and the man jumped. Apparently, he heard me.

He smirked when he realized what had happened, "You mine as well stop trying, Liaden; he can't hear you where he is." Immediately, my mind flashed to the worst possible outcome; great, I've got a dragon for three days and I've already got him killed. And Pappy's probably long gone, at that. And now I'm stuck here with this serial murderer who doesn't know how to unhinge his jaw or blink.

And then my mind jumped to something a whole lot creepier, "How did you know my name?"

The man laughed, this time smoother, "You told me, remember? Liaden Ardal of New York. Where is New York, I wonder. Are you a princess?" Psh, yeah right. If that's not a line, I'm a blond. Are you a princess – who does he think he is?

"Let me see Emerson, right now," I growled, digging my nails into my palms and wondering if being authoritative really worked. I'd never put it too much into practise, except with Conner. But I didn't even really need to be authoritative with Conner – I just asked nicely and he did it.

Murtagh tsked at me, "Are you not hungry?" His eyes were... deep. I couldn't quite bring myself to get over them, except for the fact that I was extremely focused on getting to Emerson. I can swoon over my captor like some bad romance novel any other day, just not right now. Right now I'm completely focussed on my dragon... and my horse.

"What about my horse? Is he alright?" My eyes grew wide, and I reached further with my mind, wondering if I'd be able to find him, Pappy? I hope he knows his name, or at least the sound of my mind-voice. I mean, he has spent the last three years of his life with me. He should know who I am forwards, backwards, and sideways.

My search came back with nothing, so I concentrated instead on Emerson as Murtagh responded, "Your horse is perfectly fine; he is being given the best care." I wrote that tidbit off as a lie and continued to search. "As for your dragon, he is in perfect condition. He came with us willingly."

My eyes were sharp as they turned to narrow at Murtagh, who was calm and collected as he started back at me. Came with them willingly my ass – he was pinned to the ground by a dragon and was possibly already dead. Oh God, Emerson, please don't be dead. I can't get back without you, and Lord knows I won't make it through a night here if you don't tell me what I'm doing.

"Please," Murtagh's voice sounded, and he almost sounded a little... desperate. Maybe even vulnerable. "Please," he questioned again, this time with a bit more volume, but still not to the point that anyone who wasn't within three feet of him could hear it, "Just eat."

I took a deep breath before I reached down, taking a forkful of the meat-gravy-potatoe substance. My nose wrinkling of my own accord, I shoved the food into my mouth and swallowed it quickly. It's not that it tasted bad, it just... had an awkawrd texture. More solid than stew, but more watery than mashed potatoes. It was... mush. It was almost the consistency of vomit. Eugh.

"There," I replied pointedly, dropping the spoon into the round-bottom-plate and staring up at him, "Now can I go and see Emerson?" Murtagh laughed for approximately the third time, this time it almost seemed... natural. It didn't halt, like he was trying to suck it in and shove it back down. I couldn't blink, and instead stared incredulously as he leaned his head back against the cold stone wall.

"You must be royalty – no one else would be so impertinent."

Child?

I gasped – Emerson's voice was loud and clear in my mind this time, his presence startling; he wasn't going anywhere. I had to get Murtagh out of here; I had to talk with Emerson ASAP. Murtagh glanced at me oddly, and it was one of those moments I realized that what I'd done wasn't just in my mind – I'd actually gasped. "Get out."

Murtagh's brow furrowed, "What?" I growled at him, almost like an animal; maybe Emerson somehow taken over my body, but I was confident in my lie for the first time in my life. I knew what I was doing, and I was going to have a temper tantrum until it worked and I could have conversation with Emerson in peace.

"Get out – you're pissing me off by not letting me see my dragon, even if I've held up my end of the bargain. We talked, I ate, and yet you still won't let me see Emerson. And so I see no point in this going on." Murtagh's jaw dropped as I pointed over his shoulder, towards the door. "Get!"

I almost flinched as Murtagh followed the path my finger was making toward the door, and then looked back at me slowly. His dark eyes were almost smoldering now that he had swallowed his shock and realized that I, the girl who had once been shackled to the wall, was giving him orders. And this time, he didn't think it was funny.

For a moment I sat there, once again captivated by his the depth of his eyes, like a pin drop that somehow led to yet another dimension, filled with just inky blackness and whatever emotion was passing through his body. They were almost like I'd always imagined Edward Cullen's eyes would be, only real and somehow more gorgeous.

My daydreams of vampires, which were suddenly not as far fetched as they'd once been, was cut short by when Murtagh stretchied his hand out easily to catch the palm that was supporting me, his hard fingers closing around my wrist before I heard the chain sliding around the wall. The iron closed around my wrist as soon as he let go, and I ignored the fact that it was magic to try and glare him down.

I screamed, though, as I felt the chain tug upwards, the other half reaching towards the hand that had been pointing, but was luckily now resting at my side. The other handcuffacle closed easily around it before pulling it upwards, so that once again I felt completely and totally exposed and defensless against this dragon rider.

I glared at him as he stood, brushing off the seat of his pants, "I thought this was all one big misunderstanding." Liar. You know just what you're doing, don't you?

"It's become apparent that keeping you locked here is for both our saftey, madame; there are more dangerous people in the world than me, and I'd rather rest assured that you are safe than let you be on your way so soon." Murtagh smiled thinly back at me, and I felt the desperate urge to break the chains and wrap them around his neck. Not that it would help anything – it would, in fact, probably make everything harder, but it still seemed nice.

Murtagh sighed before turning his back on me, and I continued to glare at the back of his head in retaliation as he strolled out the door. If I could only get out that door... Peace, child; your anger excites me. I snorted at Emerson before looking up and flexing my wrists experimentaly. The cuffs held, and I sighed and let my back rest against the wall.

Are you alright? I bit my lip as I awaited his answer, hoping he wouldn't ask the same of me.

I'm chained in what might be the basement of a stable; I smell horses. Are you alright? I grimaced as I sent him the image, complete with the food they fed me and the dankness of the walls. His anger was cool, simmering, as if he took offense to how I was being cared for. This seems backwards.

Do you smell Pappy? The question was... pointless. But still, it doesn't hurt to ask, does it? It would really suck if we came all this way and he wasn't even here.

Your horse is alive – his whinny is distinctive and the guards are muttering about a devil horse, Emerson assured me, and I could help but smile a little. Yeah, that's my baby boy – the devil horse. He probably hit one of those weird blue things in the horn or something. That a boy. But there are more important matters – what are we going to do? We can't stay here, child. We're being held prisoner.

I figured that out, I thought sarcastically, pulling at my chains for emphasis, And I'm open to suggestions.

Can you get free? Emerson was distinctly hopeful, but we both knew better. I've been magically locked into these... things; I have yet to see a key! As far as I can tell, they're controlled completely by magic and are thereby a mystery to me. I mean, Emerson did mention magic a few times, but neither of us are quite sure how it's done.

I sighed, What do yo- I paused when my eyes fell to the ground, to the mush that Murtagh was so desperate I eat. Hold on, I think I've got something. I started to lick my top row of teeth in excitement as I came up with an actual plan, running it by Emerson in hopes of his stamp of approval.

Emerson's apprehensiveness echoed in my head, I don't like it; I want something better. Yours is... too dangerous.

I snorted, I think mine is as danger free was we're going to get; I just have to be quick and hope that there aren't so many guards outside. Hmm, you're in an underground stable?

Concentrate first on getting yourself away, child, Emerson reprimanded sternly, I'm being treated just fine.

Which is why you have yet to show me your surrondings. I smirked to myself with pride before taking a deep breath, figuring any emotion would be understandable, especially nervousness, "Oh, guards!" The small window in my door was immeidately filled with the light blue visage of the nameless creature that seemed to be crawling around the castle. I cleared my throat, "Unlock my chains, please; I'd like to eat."

The guard looked to the side before leaning over, and I bit my lip. What could have possibly been wrong with what I said that there needs to be a conference? It was pretty straight forward, and I sounded genuine! Without a glance at me, a guard ran passed the window, and I heard his abnormally heavy feet plod against the ground in a militant, controlled rhthym. I hate people who can run.

I groaned, figuring that my only chance at freedom was shot; I couldn't even convince my idiot guards to let me out of my chains to do something as basic as eating, so much for then slipping passed them and running away really really fast. I can't even run really really fast! Guess we're going to need to scratch that plan completely; maybe we shouldn't...

My thinking was cut short when the door clanged open, Murtagh looking at me oddly as he let the door fall shut behind him. A total of one thought ran through my mind as I stared at him: Oh shit. A random after thought included, They brought out the big guns now – I really pissed them off. He might cut out my stomach.

Emerson growled, but I fought to quel his defensiveness while still maintaining the rouse hopefully. Murtagh looked at me curiously, apprehensively, through his black bangs, as if I was suddenly an enemy, and I deserved nothing less than the painful death of starvation which these chains promoted, "They said you were hungry?"

I grimaced for a second before trying to replace the grimace with a charming smile; the effect felt like what continually cursed Murtagh's otherwise very handsome features. God help us all, "Yeah, the... prison-like draft blew the smell towards me and now I could eat a..." Do they have lions here? "Horse. A small one, but a horse none the less."

Murtagh raised one dark eyebrow questioningly at my pause, but I consider Emerson's reaction to be worse. I know what you're thinking, Liaden, but don't do it. He's not stupid – he'll see it coming.

Hey, part of being a leader is being flexible, right? I'm just... stretching.

Do not do it! I can see what you're thinking!

I ignored my better half as I smiled up at Murtagh, this time the smile feeling a little less forced, but a lot more smug. Smug is probably one of those things I shouldn't be when I'm trying to convince some weird Lord-Dragon-claw dude to unlock me.

Slowly, Murtagh took a step towards me, his hand reaching out to grip my wrists tenderly, his eyes narrowing at the lock. I wondered if these things even had keys, but then my hands were free, and I suddenly freedom seemed within my grasp.

Emerson's relief spread throughout my body as I reached for the food, but I just smirked as my fingers closed around the edge of the plate. My dragon realized what I was doing all too late, and as Murtagh sat next to me carefully, I turned and swung the plate into his face.

Murtagh was ready, by whatever miracle of nature, for the food to be flung in his face, but I don't think he expected me the plate to shatter with the force I hit him. Above the sound of my standing and running for the door, I heard Emerson's wild chanting to sit back down and behave myself mixed with the trampeeding of the guards as they attempted to all get down the hall at once.

I threw open the door just as Murtagh yelled, "Stop!" If I had the time, I would have snorted – I just beat him up with flatware, and he expects me to listen to him? He's gone down about twenty points in my book just for falling for this plan.

As I took a step out the door, though, I realized he hadn't fallen for this plan – my prison door led to a long hallway, occupied by only the door I was stepping out of, and had posted guards on either side of said hallway. Now they had officially blocked the entrance, each of them trying to squeeze passed the other in an attempt to attack me. Or maybe eat me. I'm not quite sure what they want to do with me, actually.

I looked quickly, Emerson still urging me to go back to the basement, and ran towards the side that looked weaker. Of course, that was the side where they were smaller, and as I was halfway to them, with the complete intention of barrelling them over, one broke through the mass, and two more followed it. The blue, horned creatures were imposing as they stepped closer to me, the sound of their footsteps just as slow and methodical as their jogging had been.

It was in the moment that I was admiring this precision, simultaneously searching for an alternate escape route, that I felt my knees being hit out from under me. I screamed as I fell to the floor, twisting and landing on my side so I could see my assailant as being another blue-horned thing, this one with three more from it's side of the hallway. It smiled maliciously down at me when I heard a scream, so protective and loud that I almost thought it was Emerson's, "No!"

But the command was received too late as a large club, the creature's only weapon, was in full swing, about to be shoved into my skull and possibly break it. Honestly, I think that's the point. I closed my eyes, welcoming the bright flash of light and the strange serentiy that came with knowing your death was emminent as I waited for the club to come into contact with my head.

Ironically, instead all I got was a, "Stand down, soldiers. And never attack a Rider again." I recognized the voice as belonging to whomever had yelled 'no,' and then instantly connected it to Murtagh. I opened my eyes, and I was amazed at what I saw. It was like looking at the world through a lens the same exact red as the dragon and covered in white, pulsing veins and forming a protective orb around me, an orb which the creatures backed away from. Down the hall, through the film of red, I could see Murtagh, breathing deeply with a shallow gash across his forehead.

One vein pulsed particularly brightly in front of me, to the point that it almost sparkled. Feeling like a three year old, it distracted me from Murtagh and filled my thoughts with nothing more coherant than, 'ooh, sparkly.' Gulping down my fear, and continuing to ignore Emerson's lecturing, I reached forward to touch it.

"No," Murtagh screamed again, this time at me as my fingers came into contact with the vein. I was filled very suddenly with an electric shock, more intense than the electric fence we used at my barn, or any electro-shock therapy that was approved by the FDA. It coursed and surged through my body for a few seconds before the film of red disappeared behind the blackness of my eyes, my body giving into the physical pain.

And dreaming doesn't do no good
Cause I don't wanna lie and say that I'm alright
I'd rather take it and forget it
Consider this a warning

Consider This by Anna Nalick