Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty seven

"I assume you remember me then, amigo."

Iain didn't make a sound; growl, roar or otherwise. His eyes sparked angrily, showing that his rage had not dimmed. The trapped dragon nodded slowly though.

The tanned man grinned happily. "How's your wing?"

The dragon replied by doing nothing. The man pouted at the lack of response.

"How's the prince then?"

That got a response.

A deafening snarl followed by a large roar that shook the bars and the ground around the dragon. Dust and small pebbles dropped from the dome ceiling.

Arthur flinched.

To everyone in the room, the noise had sounded like it was one of anger and fury but to the Prince, it had sounded like his older brother had been crying out in pain and misery. It sounded so heart broken that it hurt.

After the echo faded, the arena was silence once again. Iain's chest was heaving slightly as it tried to suck in air while constricted by the bars.

"That doesn't sound good, drago rosso. Don't tell me you lost him or that he's dead." Iain sucked in more air, still trying to regulate his breathing. "I have been searching a long time, amigo. I will be very angry if that's the case."

The red dragon resumed his glaring. The tanned man eyed the dragon for a moment thoughtfully, trying to read the dragon's expression since he could understand the language. He sighed slightly before perking up again.

"I will find him later. On the plus side, he was not the only one I was searching for." Light danced in his one good golden eye menacingly. "I thought that a dragon with such unusual and bright colouring would be easy to find." He shrugged. "But all I heard were rumours and fairytales. I guessed you killed any witnesses, huh?"

The man dramatically threw his hands up.

"I followed dead leads for years, trying to find you and your lil' prince! I had almost given up! Then I heard a most spectacular rumour! A red dragon had been captured and dragged into this infamous arena! At first I had thought it to be another farce! Then I saw you, amigo."

The man was suddenly standing inches from Iain's snout. The dragon flinched back in surprise at the sudden, quick move. A tanned hand moved up the black gash and sagging socket, ghosting over the festering wound but never touching it.

"It still hurts..." He murmured softly. "I have been thinking about it... For a long, long time... I really want a replacement for it."

The dragon shifted back farther, still stuck but trying to escape. Fear was beginning to creep in on the rage. It seemed that he was still haunted by the traumatic memories that plagued his youth.

The man beamed happily. "That's the thing about trolls, we cannot regrow limbs or eyes, but we can take them. I need a new eye, amigo, and I decided along time ago that it would be yours."

He reached forward now, the tanned skin disappearing as the glamour faded. It was replaced by the bulky, discoloured flesh of a hideous troll's arm. The skin was knurly and so dark that it was basically black. The dirty pale yellow claws were getting closer to Iain's face.

The man was moving his hand slowly; enjoying the fear that was building in the dragon's eyes that he would soon pluck right out of its socket. The dragon was scrambling at the metal bars, trying to widen them enough to push himself back into the arena. He was baring his teeth wildly, growling dangerously as he tried to threaten or deter the troll. It was unfruitful though.

The filthy nails were close enough to graze the scales around the left eye. Though they were not sharp enough to pierce the crimson scales, they would be more than sufficient for gorging out the emerald eye. No matter how steel like you made your skin; you cannot harden your eyes.

A nail caressed the very edge of the soft eyeball before a loud scream of pain exploded forth, shaking the dome's foundation.

Blood dripped to the ground. The crimson liquid splattered against the stone floor messily. A few stones fell from the ceiling, loosened by the sound of the cry of agony.

The prince closed his eyes.

(A/N - Ain't I cruel? I don't touch this story for months and then I give this tiny, pathetic chapter. Sorry about that.

I already droned on for ages in a different A/N so I have ran out of things to write.

Grampa Rome is being mean to poor Iain. Next chapter will be much better - an epic battle ensures! I promise!

REVIEW PLEASE!)