So, I figure I'd post this now. It's considerably longer, too.
There's a special sneak-peek of another project I'm working on afterwards, so please take a look at that. I hope you all enjoy!
Happy reading!
Curse of the Dragon Chapter 7
Blood: The vital principle; life.
Rue inhaled deeply and slowly before leading the group of eight into Raven's larger home. It was colder than before; the room's temperature drew goosebumps from her arms. The fireplace remained unlit and all was completely silent and dark. Once again, the Elder was on the couch, huddled over and holding his head in his hands. She sighed. Raven had lost control, and was once again struggling to retain rule over his emotions.
She knew it was difficult for him. Raven was only thirty years old when their world fell apart, an unusually young age for an Elder. He used to be nothing but witty, sincere, and handsome; he was the man everyone loved and wanted to be.
She herself witnessed the gradual decline of his sanity; it steadily sloped downward into the bipolar whirlwind of his mind, constantly putting him under pressure of transforming. They could all still transform on command, but it was much too dangerous when their emotions get out of hand.
Ever since Elder Edel slipped into dormancy and the curse took effect, a cloudy haze remained in his eyes, and undoubtedly in his psyche.
Anyone who didn't know him would never notice, but Rue knew better. They all did.
The dragons did their best to relieve him of as much of the burden as they could. They always understood when his quiet, pleasant aura and gentle expression darkened into the menacing creature he had the capacity to become. His tender, friendly smile often morphed into a violent sneer of hatred, encasing others in fear as if he grew black, fierce wings and suffocated them all with the darkness.
They never blamed him. Rue was actually surprised that they all haven't gone insane by now.
And Ahiru's presence wasn't making any of this easier. They had all been affected, building their guards and mentally protecting themselves. One slip, one lapse in control, and it would all be over for them. Centuries of hope would crumble in an instant if that girl died before The Night. Ryver undoubtedly would have destroyed everything, had it not been for Fakir's intervention.
Rue lifted her chin and strutted to the fireplace, breathing deeply and exhaling upon the wood. Immediately, the room brightened and warmed as the other dragons gathered around Raven's rigid frame.
Orlin's eyes glinted and he hid a growing grin, knowing that this was going to be good. He lowered himself on the other couch, scooting over as Gust sat next to him. Rein stood warily next to the armrest, arms folded.
Denos plopped down cross-legged in front of the fire, her black hair shining in the flickering light, eyes wide with youthful amusement. Ryver sent a glare at Rein before standing against the far stone wall, Walden leaning against it next to him.
Autor and Rue stood to the sides, silently waiting for their Elder to acknowledge their presence.
Raven finally sat up, his shoulders slumped. He lolled his head back, stretching out the tension in his neck, before righting himself. He gave a small smile to the younger dragons.
"What may I help you with?"
Rue shifted uncomfortably. He was in a good mood and he just regained control; perhaps this was the wrong time to bring up Ryver's mistake.
"Actually," Rue began, "Maybe this can wait for another time-"
"Ryver almost lost control as soon as you left." All eyes turned to Autor.
Raven's eyebrows raised. "Did he?"
The purple-haired man nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "He did. Almost transformed right then and there. Could have killed her." Autor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Rue glared at him. Idiot! What are you…?!
The yellow-haired guitarist immediately noticed Raven's tightening fist. "Ah, but he didn't hurt her in any way, Elder. Really," Gust quickly reassured him with a forced smile, "You know Ryver; he's got a hot head, that's all. Besides, Fakir stopped him. No harm done!"
Raven's jaw clenched and unclenched, ruby eyes blazing. His inner turmoil was apparent to everyone in the room.
Denos laid a small, pale hand on his own larger one, attempting to assuage his growing anger. She stuck her tongue out at Autor as Raven's fist loosened. Orlin hid a snort as Rein sighed in relief.
Raven calmly turned to Ryver's dark form leaning against the stone. His eyes were back to the gentle rubies they were fond of, no longer burning with rage. "Ryver, I understand your frustrations. We all do." He stood and beckoned Ryver forward. The violinist moved to stand before Raven obediently, though still with his arms stubbornly folded.
"But, please understand. We're all having a hard time right now. It is a delicate situation we are under."
"I know," Ryver admitted, grumbling.
"Please see this as a wonderful thing. It is a time of rejoicing and celebration."
"I know."
"It means our freedom is at hand, Ryver. Our freedom from this wretched curse."
"I know."
"But the girl must remain alive until The Night comes."
"I know!" Ryver raised his voice higher than he should have, and there was a collective gasp from the rest of the room's occupants. Raven's face turned serious, and Ryver immediately apologized. "Sorry. I know, I understand everything you're telling me."
Raven calmed again, alleviating some of the tension. "But…?"
Ryver sighed resignedly. The Elder knew him too well. At least more than he liked, anyway. "But every time I see that girl, every time I see that pendant, I…" he trailed off, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing, "…I see him. And I can't…I just can't control…!"
Rein stepped forward, speaking with an even, neutral tone. "Ryver, you need to learn to control it. It's been so long, Brother…"
Ryver snarled. "I am not your brother!"
The cello player paused, steadying his breath. "Fine. But you need to see that you almost destroyed the very thing we were waiting for today."
"I get it!" Ryver growled. "I just have trouble looking at her! That's all!"
Rein clenched his teeth. "No one else seems to have that problem. Was three-hundred years not long enough to discipline you?!"
Rue saw where this was going. "Rein, stop it." she warned with a scowl.
Orlin stood, all amusement and humor gone from his usually mischievous eyes. "Oi, guys, come on. Just relax."
"Let Elder handle this," Gust cautioned. Walden remained silent, smirking at the new developments, while Autor remained neutral, pushing the spectacles up the bridge of his nose once more.
"Fine," Rein stated with finality. He turned calmly to Raven. "Elder, please tell Ryver that his anger problems cause nothing but trouble. Not to mention how much pain it causes us."
Orlin and Gust rushed forward, clutching Rein's shoulders. "That's enough, man! Stop!"
A vein became visible on Ryver's forehead. He growled. "Say it. I dare you. Say it."
This is when Walden finally moved from his spot. He mirrored Orlin and Gust, placing a hand on Ryver's arm, though he still had a small smirk upon his face. "Let it go. That's enough fun for one day."
"Say it, Brother! Go ahead!"
Rue attempted to get between them, but Autor grasped her arms, keeping her away from the impending violence. No! This is wrong! Stop it! "Enough! Both of you!" she cried, uncharacteristically losing her composure, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Rein saw the challenge in Ryver's wild eyes. And everyone knew that was it.
He stated, his voice once more neutral and even, "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this hellhole in the first place."
Silence, a roar, and then chaos. Rue could barely register the blur of activity. Walden nonchalantly allowed Ryver to escape his grasp. The violinist grabbed and lifted Rein by the shirt collar, and threw him out the doorway with such a ferocity that it was hard to see this man creating such beautiful music. He followed outside, releasing a berserk roar, his savage expression unrestrained. Orlin and Gust rushed out the doorway after the two brothers, not noticing that the cloth was ripped right off.
Rue stood, still held back by an all-too-calm Autor, breathing heavily. A moment passed, and she broke through Autor's arms.
"Denos!" she cried, eyes wild, "Stay with the Elder! Autor! Come with me!"
The chaos continued outside, but the sounds were muffled by the stone walls.
After another moment, Raven simply turned away from them and sat back down on his couch, again holding his head in his hands. His fingers clenched at his hair, attempting to keep himself in check.
Throughout this entire ordeal, Denos fought to keep her sarcastic remarks to herself, but she realized that at that moment, it wouldn't have made a difference. All she could do was place a comforting hand on Raven's back, rubbing small circles on his trembling form.
It was a while before he spoke. "…Elder Edel would know what to do…" His voice was strained. "She knew how to handle everything…"
Denos was a blunt and straight-forward girl, always honest about what she thought. Therefore, she allowed her silence to state her agreement.
"Your Majesty, perhaps that is enough for tonight?"
Prince Siegfried nodded in agreement. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was a bright red. A young servant, Crystal, pried his fingers away from his goblet and asked two knights named Garth and Mikhail to escort him back to his quarters.
The Prince shot to his feet, stumbled for a moment, and then wobbled to his knights' side, leaning on them for support.
Crystal remained to clean the dining table, and then retreated to the servants' quarters with a sigh. She opened the door to her room, which she shared with four others. She found them in their night clothes already, sitting on their beds and chatting like most teenage girls do.
One of them, a loud energetic small girl, threw her a bright smile when she walked in. "Tell us what the Prince is like when intoxicated!"
Another shook her head in disappointment. "Oh, Lise, you shouldn't be excited about something like this! A man of his noble stature can easily be turned into a fool with so much wine!"
Lilie jumped up, bouncing up and down on her bed. "Oh, but Avice! The charming, wonderful, perfect Prince is driven to drown himself in his drink to escape the tortures of an oncoming war and a missing love! How utterly tragic!"
Pique held her pillow to her face. "…That missing love is Miss Ahiru…"
At that, Lilie stopped bouncing and flopped on her stomach, as if just remembering that little detail. "I've…always fancied the idea of Miss Ahiru in a tragic story, but now that it's really happening…it's not quite as exciting as I thought it would be."
Crystal began changing into her own night gown. "What do you think happened to Miss Ahiru? She can't have disappeared into thin air."
Avice sighed. "For as long as she's been gone, I wouldn't be surprised if she's dead…"
Lilie tossed a pillow at her. "Miss Ahiru is most certainly not dead!"
Lise shrugged. "If she's not dead, I bet she's in a better place than here; the Chateau's a complete mess right now. If she saw His Majesty right now…"
Rachel opened the door, her eyes stern. "Lights were to be out by now." The girls hopped into their respective beds and murmured their apologies, watching the head maid blow out the candles on the nightstands.
When Rachel finally left, shutting the door behind her, Lilie spoke from her laying position, voice becoming higher and higher with every word. "What if Ahiru ran away from this place, realizing it wasn't for her? And now she's in some dilapidated village with the poverty and falling in love with some poor but ruggedly handsome man? That doesn't seem so tragic!"
Pique's voice drifted throughout the room. "What a ridiculous notion."
A pause, and then girlish giggles.
A murderous roar echoed from outside.
Ahiru and Fakir tore their gazes from each other to stare at the doorway in shock. The emerald-eyed dragon dashed toward the cloth-covered entrance. "Stay here," he commanded over his shoulder, his eyes fierce.
The slightest bit of fear within his green orbs did not go unnoticed by the girl, however. Something was terribly wrong. Ahiru needed to see what was going on. She made her way to the entrance and pushed back the cloth.
Oh…no…
Before her, in the village square, was an unconscious Rein lying on the stone ground, standing below a throbbing and convulsing Ryver. He was transforming.
She noticed Orlin and Gust run into the scene. They attempted to restrain Ryver's arms, but he twisted, maneuvered his body so that he easily threw them off. Then, the usually confident and composed Rue ran in front of him, throwing her arms open and shielding Rein, screaming and sobbing words that Ahiru couldn't hear clearly. Autor threw Rein over his shoulder and dashed away from the scene.
Ryver began to grow. He released a pained bellow as, like Fakir had, he morphed into a dark purple dragon, the scales glinting in the light of the oil lamps of the village with dark eyes blacker than emptiness. Black leathery wings stretched over the village square.
During the transformation, Fakir came into her field of vision, his back to her, and he began barking orders. "Orlin! Gust! Get the hell over here!"
They were at his side in a moment's notice. "Stop him! I can't do it; if I do, this whole damn place will collapse! Tell Rue to get everyone out of their homes and down to the fields!" Orlin and Gust nodded breathlessly, rushing back to the snarling dragon.
Perhaps if not for the dire situation and the fact that a dragon far more hideous than Fakir had transformed before her eyes once more, Ahiru may have admired Fakir's authority.
He turned around, eyes widening at seeing her. "Dammit, what the hell are you doing just standing there?! Get to the fields! Follow those people!" He pointed to the retreating villagers ushered along by a frantic Rue and a serious Freya, running to a path that led down a flight of stairs that she hadn't noticed till now.
Ahiru didn't move; the transformation was complete, and two other dragons had joined the fray.
She could see how the place would collapse if Fakir had transformed; already the cracks were beginning to form beneath Ryver's claws. Orlin and Gust were of a different sort of dragon; serpent-like and airborne, slicing through the air like knives, with six very short limbs that seems almost useless while they were slithering over and around the animalistic Ryver. Perhaps, under better circumstances, Ahiru would have found them beautiful.
Unfortunately, she was simply too petrified.
She could only watch in horror as Ryver swatted at them with menacing claws, his wings flapping with such force that Ahiru fought to keep her feet planted in the ground against the wind. Gust gracefully slid beneath him and Orlin above.
"That's enough!" she heard them yell, their human voices easily recognizable.
Ryver only responded with another roar, and she knew that there was very little left of his human self. He thrashed around, his tail and wings slamming into several homes, stone crumbling where he went.
An arm grabbed hers roughly. "Get out of here!" Fakir shouted right in her face, his eyes full of anger, fear, and perhaps a little of desperation.
But Ahiru was too afraid, too confused to budge.
And then, nothing but blurs.
Fakir let out a curse before his arms encircled her waist and he pivoted his body so she turned around. Ahiru couldn't see what happened; her face was buried in Fakir's chest and her body was crushed against his, the vice-grip around her waist never loosening.
She felt a jerk and a rush of air as she heard Fakir's howl of pain. Her feet weren't on the ground anymore, and all she could feel was her body cradled against his own. Were they flying…?
Another curse escaped Fakir's labored breath, and he once more turned their bodies in midair. Another scream of pain, and another jarring impact, this time stopping their motion entirely. Ahiru felt herself falling back, still in his arms, and she landed hard on the stone floor, her head striking the ground. The world around her swirled and she fought to stay conscious.
There was silence for a moment. All she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.
What…just happened?
Fakir, tense and heavy, placed his hands on either side of her and lifted himself above her shaking form. He stared down into her eyes, his breathing labored and face cringed in pain. Several scratches marred his visage.
Did he save me?
He moved off of her and rolled to the side, trying to catch his breath. Fakir attempted to sit up, but he let out a groan, clutching his ribs.
Ahiru rubbed her head, forcing the pain away. She then sat up and leaned over Fakir. "Are…are…are you…?" she whimpered, lifting a hand to touch him.
Before she could do anything else, though, she noticed the dark, sticky liquid dribbling down her fingers and palm. It seemed like blood, but it was black…
Dragon blood?
Blood. Fakir's dragon blood. On her hand.
The world began to spin again, everything moving in painted motions, frame by frame. In the back of her mind, she heard screaming and crying and so many, many voices. Everything around her was growing softer and softer. A cool hand smoothed out her forehead, slick from perspiration, and a few concerned faces stared down at her from space.
Ahiru still could not tear her eyes from the liquid on her hand. And then, she fell forward before everything went black.
Prince Femio shut the door quietly behind him.
This was the only person he would ever take his crown off to as a sign of respect. The purple-haired prince kneeled down on one knee in the center of a circle of candles, darkness surrounding him in all directions.
A man in the hooded cloak before him grinned. "Everything is going according to plan." He spoke in a rough, itchy voice.
Clutching his crown, Prince Femio fought to remain silent. It was a senseless war, but if his master wished it, it would always be done. "Yes, my lord."
"And when the time finally comes, I'll be able to finally lure them out."
(takes a deep breath) Well, then! Hah, that's that! Here's a sneak preview of another Tutu fic I was playing around with in my head. Let me know what you think!
-
Fulton grinned charmingly at a couple of passing cheerleaders. They blushed under his emerald gaze.
He forgot his calculus textbook in Mr. Meyers' class. Which pretty much sucked, since he didn't want to see his teachers anymore than he already had to. Honestly, he didn't even know why he was bothering to pick it up; it's not like he was actually going to do the homework.
He opened Mr. Meyers' door, not surprised to find it unlocked. His English teacher didn't have a life, so of course he'd still be at school. Class just ended about fifteen minutes ago, anyway.
"Hey, Mr. Meyers," Fulton greeted with an easy wave and a smirk.
His English teacher was an oddball. Weird white hair with a goatee, ridiculously sharp eyebrows, and a rather colorful wardrobe. And one could never forget those big, brown, googly eyes of his. "Ah, Fulton! Is there something you need?"
"Yeah. Left my math book here." Fulton strode to his desk, automatically seeing the shiny brown cover of the calculus textbook in the metal tray beneath the chair.
He heard a chuckle from the teacher. "You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"Yeah? What's up?" Fulton bent down to grab his book. Before he got up, however, he noticed a small duck keychain right below Amy's desk. He smirked; as cynical and sarcastic as that small redhead was, she always had a thing for birds. He was the only one who knew that of course, and he often took advantage of that.
"You know that story I wrote? I told you that…I based some of the characters off of you and some other students, right?"
Fulton raised an eyebrow while reaching for the keychain. "Yeah, you told us. I'm still not sure whether we should be flattered or grossed out about that."
Another chuckle. "You all should be flattered. Well, the bottom line is…"
Fulton stood, dusting the dust off his jeans and pocketing the keychain (he made a mental memo to tease Amy with it later). He slipped the textbook into his backpack, his back still to Mr. Meyers. "What?" He slung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.
"Those characters need your help."
Fulton blinked. "…Huh?" He turned to look at his teacher, only to find him gone.
He blinked again. He didn't hear the door open at all. "Mr. Meyers?" Fulton slowly made his way to the teacher's desk, where a leather bound book sat innocently on top of his grade-book. The title was sprawled in graceful, pink lettering on the top.
Princess Tutu
Fulton cringed at the horrible title, but he remained insatiably curious. His hands moved on their own as his fingertips lifted the hardcover cautiously.
A flash of light, and Fulton was gone, the book sitting closed on the desk.