Hello, dearies! Here's another chapter. I wanted to take this opportunity to wish everyone a Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this next one.

Happy reading!

Curse of the Dragon Chapter 5
Conflict: To come into collision or disagreement; in opposition; clash.

It was a shame that such a beautiful day was wasted on catering to the egocentric prince's needs. Prince Femio was unwelcome and unwanted every time he showed up, and to come without invitation displayed a great lack of respect for those in the Grand Chateau of Vineta.

They were seated in the tearoom, a large glass window revealing an astonishing view of the gardens and allowing the sunlight to pour in and illuminate the spacious salon. Karon shifted uncomfortably in the Regency-style chaise longue, staring fixedly into his teacup at the amber-colored ambrosia. In his peripheral vision, Captain Humphrey and General Lysander trembled on either side of the lavish sofa.

He inwardly cringed as Prince Femio slurped noisily at his own tea.

Across the oak table, the purple-haired prince sat on the Victorian Chesterfield leather settee with crossed legs, erected posture, and pinky out while holding his china teacup. He was outrageously decked in gold, rubies, and pearls, all of which were embroidered into the seams of his scarlet tunic. A massive golden belt adorned his waist. His rust-colored stockings were kept up by the lower part of his matching breeches being pulled over them, and his pointed shoes were amusingly sharp. A bulky, jewel-encrusted, three-pound crown pressed down on his head, and yet he was still able to keep his nose high in the air.

His ever-present assistant, Montand, stood behind the couch, holding a basket of red petals and a paper fan should he ever (and he always did) need it. Karon offered to allow one of Prince Femio's own guards to escort him as well, but the self-centered prince only replied with, "Oh, no, no, no, no need! Montand is quite enough company and protection!"

Karon sighed and placed his china teacup carefully onto the oak table before him. Come on, Karon. Just suck it up.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice too high a pitch to be considered genuine, "We did receive word that your personal officials will be arriving to discuss a few concerns that have developed over the course of our conferences. It is quite a…pleasant surprise to see you here personally, Your Majesty."

Prince Femio flipped his hair, his massive crown miraculously not budging an inch. "I have decided," he declared in his startlingly bass tone, "to grace you with my wonderful presence, Monsieur!" He lifted his arms in an extravagant pose, clenching his eyes in some odd form of agony. "My beauty is for the world, you see? I cannot begrudge you your privilege to gaze upon this wonderful face!"

The prince shot up from his seat, dropping the china onto the carpet, one hand clutched over his heart and the other reaching out to a very frightened Karon. "I cannot simply send my beloved followers to do my duties; they cannot possibly possess my inherent charisma and allurement!" Montand cast out his arm to release a flurry of rose petals, showering them over the dramatic prince. "Ah!" he sighed, crouching down into pose of sorrow, "It must be a crime to be so captivating! So exquisite! So refined and statuesque!"

Karon's heart began to race. "No, Your Majesty! It is not a crime! Please, there's certainly no need to punish yourself! Really!"

General Lysander stepped forward. "Y-Your Majesty!" he pleaded, "I'm afraid bulls and other forms of cattle are prohibited within Chateau walls!"

Prince Femio paused, then gracefully sat himself back down. He brought his hands together in a gesture of prayer. "Oh, woe is me! To go on breaking hearts and never to receive penalty!"

Karon, the general, and the captain sighed in relief, visibly relaxing. Reaching for his teacup once more, Karon spoke again. "It's certainly all right, Your Majesty. Such…beauty is no crime at all.

"Now, about the circumstances of this visit…"

Prince Femio grinned like an idiot. "Ah, of course! Shall we get to business, then?"

Pique came in, wheeling in more refreshments on several trays. As gracefully as possible, she placed the trays of pastries onto the oak table and picked up the prince's teacup. She brought a new one to him, refilling it, and leaving the china teapot next to the trays.

"Ah, Mademoiselle!" He placed his hand over his heart, pulling out a rose out of nowhere and thrusting it into her face. "I am not worthy of your service! Oh, woe is me! It must be that you cannot resist being away from me!"

The pink-haired maid froze in her tracks, terrified. She lifted a shaking hand to pluck the rose out of Prince Femio's hand, glancing at Karon pleadingly. She only received a sigh and a shrug in reply.

"Uh…n-no, Your Majesty," she mumbled, "Really, it's no trouble at all…!" With that, the maid high-tailed it out of the room.

Take me with you! Karon silently implored her. Please!

"Ah, the poor young maiden," the prince continued, "Cannot even stand to be in the same room with such perfection."

Karon heard a snort coming from Captain Humphrey on his left side. My thoughts exactly. "Now, Your Majesty. Shall we get to business?" Yes. Business. Business was good. Karon could handle business.

"Ah, of course!" Prince Femio replied, helping himself to a scone, "Now, where is the…" he paused, as if searching for the right word, "Prince Siegfried?"

At this, Karon fought the urge to glare at him. "I'm afraid His Majesty is a bit preoccupied with other affairs at the moment. He will not be joining us."

Prince Femio blinked in shock, almost to the point of being insulted. "Really? Something more important than a conference with me?"

"It is a delicate situation, I'm afraid."

The prince huffed and glanced at Montand, who shrugged in reply. "I see. How unsatisfactory. Are you permitted to have this meeting with me without your prince?"

Karon shifted nervously. "It cannot be helped, unfortunately. And yes, I am permitted. I have actively taken part in all of His Majesty's meetings. But, perhaps, if you were to come back at a later date…"

"Oh, Monsieur, I'm afraid this cannot wait," said the prince, a little too amiably, "My people are simply not happy, and I plan to settle this today! After all, I would do anything and everything for my country!"

He says it's his people who aren't happy?! "Well, with all due respect, Your Majesty," Karon replied, struggling to keep a reverent façade, "Your expansion is already bordering on Vinetian land."

"Well, of course!" the prince exclaimed, grinning and biting into a fruit tart, "Our plantations are in need of vast, fertile fields. The farmers simply have no more room. And we have promised we will give you slaves in return for your land."

Karon ground his teeth in an attempt to assuage his growing anger. "Slavery is not permitted in this country," he stated, evenly and carefully.

"Ah well," Prince Femio sighed with a shrug, "Suit yourselves. But I'm afraid that is all we have to offer you in exchange."

This is getting nowhere! "Perhaps we can reach a different compromise?"

"I shall give you anything you ask for," the prince replied, his cheesy grin widening, "As long as it is something I am willing to give."

---

Ahiru stepped back.

"Now, now, don't be frightened, Miss Ahiru," Raven ensured her, sauntering over with his hands raised in assurance. He walked carefully, unhurried and cautious, as if expecting her to run away at any given moment. "We mean you no harm as of yet," he said, his baritone voice soothing, but his message cryptic, "It is too early for that." He gave her a soft smile, but this did nothing to assuage her building fear. Raven's tall and slender form continued to amble in her direction harmlessly, his warm, peaceable expression contrasting sharply with his calculating ruby-red eyes.

The rest of the villagers began to grow closer, crowding around and forming a half-circle around her and the approaching Raven. They glided over the cobblestones with light, graceful steps, barely making any sounds at all.

Were they even aware of how cornered Ahiru felt? She backed another step.

She quickly scanned the crowd, all the faces blurring together in the background. She stopped at Uzura's large, curious eyes, then onto Rue's amused expression.

Her gaze lingered on Fakir's countenance for a moment longer than the rest (for some odd reason that she could not quite place). He stood there, fingering the horned instrument hanging by his hip. His emerald eyes penetrated her, but they betrayed no emotions at all.

Ahiru turned her attention back to Raven, who, by now, was only two feet away from her.

Although he was considerably taller than Fakir, his presence wasn't nearly quite as aggressive as the emerald-eyed dragon. His kind smile grew, but his ruby eyes glinted. "Now then," he said casually, "Shall we have proper introductions?"

Raven turned to the wary crowd, lightly placing a hand on Ahiru's shoulder in a futile attempt to be comforting. Ahiru shuddered. "Welcome to Wyvern, Miss Ahiru. We are the Dragon Clan," he declared with a wave of his arm.

So, they are all dragons…

"This," he addressed the villagers with satisfaction, "is Miss Ahiru. Please, let us make her stay here as adequate as possible. She is, after all…" He paused for a moment, glancing at Ahiru with a smile, "doing us a great service."

A lump formed in her throat. A great service…by giving up my life? Ahiru held back her tears again. No, no, stop it, Ahiru. It's time to be strong. You'll get out of this! You just need to figure out what is going on.

The crowd dispersed quietly, sending Ahiru strange looks as they retreated into their stone huts, some staying behind to clean up the mess they left during their celebration, wheeling away the piano and lifting the rest of the instruments away. She wondered to herself if they had been celebrating her arrival.

A large group of villagers didn't budge, however, including the four musicians, Uzura, Rue, Fakir, and four others.

Raven smiled at them. "Please, let her feel welcome."

Suddenly, faster than she could blink, the Elder's agreeable aura dissipated. He scowled at the group, eyes flaring from calm, pensive rubies to blazing, intense wildfires. The hand on her shoulder clenched tightly, and a whimper inadvertently escaped her lips. Fakir's attention snapped to her, obviously catching her small whine. Her eyes met his for a split second, goosebumps running down her spine, before he broke the eye contact to turn back to Raven.

"If I see so much as a scratch on her," he snarled, "there will be hell to pay." He stared at them, meeting their eyes with the strangest expression on his face. It was hostile and furious. "That means you, Ryver, Walden," he growled at one man who Ahiru recognized as the violin player and another larger, burly blonde one. The two men did not openly react besides a slight twitch of the eyebrow.

Raven turned to look at Ahiru, expression melting back into that quiet, amiable face just as quickly. "We do hope you will be comfortable here throughout the duration of your stay."

W-What is wrong with him?! Ahiru clutched her pendant. Just a moment ago, he was…!

With that, Raven released his grip on her shoulder and trudged slowly back to the large hut.

Ahiru had never seen such an abrupt transformation; of course, just the day before, she witnessed a man change into a dragon, but that had been a painful, agonizing length of time with a prolonged process.

What she just witnessed was nothing short of insanity. She was sure of it. And she was also ridiculously terrified.

Heart pounding hard enough to leap right out of her chest, she turned to the group that stayed behind. Unlike her tremulous form, they didn't seem fazed in the least. If anything, their expressions really haven't changed since Ahiru made herself known to the villagers of Wyvern.

Uzura, also seemingly unsurprised by this complete change in Raven, began cheerfully beating her drum, singing an improvised song. "Happy king, with no wings, singing 'round a wedding ring! Buzz-bee stings, some mood swings, zinging-flinging-down-down-down-down-down-down-down-down, clinging by some strings!"

Ahiru stared at Uzura in confusion, still quavering. She was thankful, though, that Uzura brought the group's attention to her, breaking their blank stares in Ahiru's direction. Half of them rolled their eyes, the others fought a growing smile.

"Enough of that," reprimanded Rue gently, gathering Uzura in her arms and ceasing the tapping of her drums, "Play later." She then turned to the group of dragons that remained. "Freya, dear, can you please take her to sunflower fields below? Let her release some of her pent-up energy, will you?"

It was a small, surprising comfort that sunflowers grew down here. As far as Ahiru knew, though, sunflower fields needed sun and lots of water. How are they able to grow them in a place as dark as this?

A gorgeous woman with a glowing warm aura smiled softly, thick golden hair shining in the dim lighting of Wyvern. Was everyone who lived here ridiculously beautiful? "Of course, Rue," she said melodically, gracefully bending into a curtsy, "The flowers need tending after all."

Rue smiled. "Thank you."

Freya turned to look over Ahiru. Ahiru shifted her weight on one leg and bit her lip, feeling more than a little self-conscious with such a beautiful woman looking at her. To Ahiru's surprise, however, Freya smiled, curtsied to her and took Uzura's hand, leading her away in a direction of Wyvern Ahiru had never seen before. Uzura bounced away endlessly at Freya's side.

Rue turned back to Ahiru, smirking, "I see you've stopped crying and acting snobby."

Ahiru bit back a retort.

One of the dragons, the purple-haired pianist, strode up to her, staring into her eyes. He was just as tall as Fakir, leaning down to see her and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He raised an eyebrow.

"Amazing. It truly is her." He leaned in closer to scrutinize her like an art collector scrutinized the detail of a painting. "And can it be…? Is that the pendant?" He reached forward.

"It is," Fakir stated before he could touch it, his tone curt and even. It occurred to Ahiru then that Fakir had been the only one to touch it besides herself.

An excited smile grew on the spectacled man. "Finally. She's here. This is definitely one for the books."

"Now, now," Rue admonished, "Stop that. You're making her uncomfortable. She's doing a big favor for us, after all."

Oh, how Ahiru wanted them to stop with the euphemisms. At least Fakir had been blunt about it.

The cello player stepped up to her, looking at her with a guarded expression, but regret still reflecting in his eyes. He bowed deeply, then stepped back to allow the guitarist to do the same. He had a similar expression.

A black-haired pale girl (who couldn't be more than a year older than Ahiru) raised an eyebrow. "So now what do we do?" her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Is it our obligation to give her the grand tour?"

The guitarist forced a smile, as if trying to be civil. "You'll have to excuse Denos, Miss Ahiru. It's been a while since she's seen another person."

How long is a while? Ahiru thought. It was obvious these dragons didn't like her; she could tell by how guarded they seemed to be, as if they were reluctant to let her see anything besides the surface.

He continued, "My name's Gust. This guy here," he gestured to the cello player, "is Rein."

A taller man behind them, with dark hair and devious eyes hid a smirk. "You seem like a nice person. And that sucks." He gave her a nod. "I'm Orlin."

The burly one, Walden, scowled. "I can't take much more of this." He stomped away, but not before he sent a death-glare in Ahiru's direction. "I hate waiting."

Ryver also turned away, leaving her with a warning. "You had better enjoy yourself while you're still living. You're going to die."

Rein glared at him. "Shut up, Ryver."

"Hmph. What are you going to do if I don't?"

"Seriously, can you be a little considerate once in a while?"

Their argument began to escalate, their voices climbing higher. Ahiru began to shift in discomfort. What was with these people? Didn't they know that she still wasn't aware of the details about her death?

Ryver treaded over to her, clutched her arms to her side and got right in her face. Ahiru was petrified, not even sure if she was breathing at all.

His eyes glinted and he snarled; she knew what this was. He was going to transform, wasn't he? Ahiru gulped, tears forming in her eyes. "Please, don't…" Her heart began to pound a million miles a second. Her arms ached and she knew they would leave more bruises.

"Do you know how long we've waited for this? Do you know what we've gone through…? We've been so patient…"

Two other hands seized Ryver's arms, thrusting them away from Ahiru. Fakir stood in front of her, and she couldn't see past his slender back. She heard him growl. "Dammit, Ryver. Relax. You've been patient this long. A couple of months is not going to kill you. If she gets hurt now…"

Ryver took a deep breath and mumbled, "…Sorry."

Orlin laughed while Denos and Gust shook their heads in embarrassment. Rue stepped up. "Ryver, control your temper. Rein, stop instigating."

"I wasn't instigating!"

Rue's ruby eyes glinted dangerously. "Everyone to the Elder's hut. Now." She turned to Fakir. "Watch her, will you?"

He lifted a shoulder in a small shrug.

"Good." With that, the rest of the dragons stalked away toward the largest hut in the village. While Ahiru was relieved that they were gone and the awkwardness of being the center of attention wore away, she just realized she was once again left alone with the emerald-eyed dragon.

He turned to her, expression neutral once again. "So, it seems we've made it obvious. We all want you to die."

Ahiru knew that. Tears pooled in her eyes nonetheless. "I…yes, you do. But…why?"

Fakir opened his mouth to speak, when a rumbling growl echoed in the now-empty village square.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hungry?"

She blushed. She hadn't eaten for so long. It had been a whole day and a half since her last decent meal.

"I thought I told Hermia to bring you food."

So it was his idea? "Uh, she did…there was a bowl of fruits and vegetables in the room I was staying in…but I didn't eat it."

"Idiot. Come on." He began walking ahead of her, hands in his pockets.

"W-Where are you taking me?"

"My hut. You can eat there. I'm sure you don't want to be brought into the middle of the heated discussion they're currently having in Raven's home. You've probably had enough fame for one day."

She stopped, silent. Will he…try to kill me? Is he taking advantage of this chance?

He regarded her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "No poison. From what you've seen, you should be well aware that we can't go killing you yet, you know."

Ahiru tried to glare at him, but it was tinged with a touch of sadness. "I…know that now." She shook her head, staying determined. "But I don't believe that my Prince Mytho will not find me for two months. He'll come for me. He'll come for me before you get the chance to hurt me."

…Right?

Fakir simpered. "Don't hold your breath."

---

Prince Siegfried barged into the entrance hall of the Grand Chateau, throwing the great doors open and startling the knights.

He had been searching endlessly for hours, until night became day. Still no sign of his beloved. At sunrise, that was when he spotted the signal fires.

Something terrible must have happened if they needed him home this badly.

Karon was waiting for him, his assistant's expression weary and defeated. General Lysander and Captain Humphrey were by his sides.

"What happened?" Mytho uncharacteristically demanded.

His advisor sighed, unfazed by Mytho's impatience. "Your Majesty. There was…a conference earlier. With Prince Femio."

"Of Rungholt…Where is he now?"

"He has already taken his leave, Your Majesty."

Mytho sighed, exasperated. "Then why do you need me back here? I must find my fiancé!"

Karon shifted, his brow glistening with perspiration.

"We…could not find common ground. Rungholt has officially declared war on Vineta."

---

Aaaaaand, CUT!

I know there are lots of O.C.s right now, but trust me, they're necessary. Don't worry too much about them as of now. And the war may seem a little random, but it will all fit in and make sense in future chapters. Please leave a review!

Fun Facts:

-Prince Femio's attire is greatly based on the book, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Do pick it up if you haven't already. It's wonderful.