The death-smell of fire and blood hung thick in the air, cloying and choking, as the gore-slickened grass swelled underfoot.
The sun must have risen, but even its power could not breach the destruction. Billowing smoke locked the heavens away, its underbelly vibrant with fire-glow and speckled with embers. Men and dragons and beasts all moaned in a universal cry of suffering. The city walls—or what was left of them—seemed close to crumbling into smoke-stained gravel. The once-lush fields spotted on scouting missions were trampled and bloody-red, the surrounding forests ablaze, and the river nearby run dry after a massive effort to block and divert it.
Men lingered, the victors eyeing the losers with triumphant malice. The dwindling army had been rounded up to witness the surrender of their home, their autonomy, their identity. There was still a grudging respect among the simmering hostility, though; they had fought with incredible bravery and competence. They had twice as many men compared to their captors. They had enough horses to trample the fields and invading army in one swollen wave. They even had an entire cavalry of war elephants, fearsome beasts drunken on the terrors of war, so dangerous that even their masters feared them.
But they had not had dragons.
Now the forest of men parted as if a strong wind tore through them. Among all of the strength of these men, there was one above it all, a force even grander than those of nature's gods, a singular will that could raise armies and fell empires.
You.
With your every step, death-smell wafted into the air. Smaller, thinner, weaker than the men making way for you, your presence towered above where your body could not. The light of the battle seemed drawn to you, like insects to a flame, as if there was merely no other place it needed to go. No man lifted their eyes to yours. No dragon let their head rise higher than yours.
You had demanded parlay out in the open, so that all may witness your decree. And so, absurd as it was, a table had been placed there, where the defeated would-be emperor sat waiting. So, too, was the commander of the winning army.
You spoke many tongues. You used theirs, to the shock of your enemies, that a barbarian such as you could know their own so well.
"You may begin. And make it quick."
You sat in an aloof manner, throwing an arm around the back of the chair, swinging your legs up onto the table, and studying a vial of purple venom in your hands. The commander and would-be emperor shared a look before the former cleared his throat.
"We will take the able-bodied men, women, and children into bondage," he began. "The rest put to death—"
"No."
Their eyes swiveled to yours. The commander tensed, just barely enough to be noticeable. The dragons at your side saw nonetheless and growled, scorpion-tails lifting, tusks unsheathing from their lower jaws.
"No," you said again. You pocketed your venom and met the commander's eyes. "There will be no slaves. That will not do."
"Mind your tongue," the commander hissed even as your dragons inched closer. "You will have your payment, and that does not include authority over our prizes."
"Men are not prizes," you said. The commander rolled his eyes, exasperated. The would-be emperor maintained a stony expression, though his eyes shone with confused surprise; he, too, would have taken the other army prisoner if he had won.
"After they are taken into bondage," the commander went on, as if you had never spoken, "you will give your empire's wealth to us, as well as—"
"Now, now, now," you chided him as though he were a child. "I thought I made it clear that there will be no slaves."
"That is enough, Grimmel!" the commander snapped. He rounded on you, standing tall and yanking his blood-soaked sword free. "You have contributed to our cause, but you must learn your place."
You sighed. With a lazy wave of your arm dangling over the chair, you gave a sharp whistle-click-click-click.
Envenomate, but do not kill.
The dragons descended. One reared tall, a mountain of armored scales and claws and venom. He faced the beast, eyes wide with horror, and the second snuck behind and struck his exposed neck with her barbed tail. The commander's expression twisted into drowsy fury before he slumped to the ground.
"Now," you said, voice pleasant, "we shall begin."
"And what would you have?" the would-be emperor spoke for the first time, his voice clear and his eyes bright with pride. "You are not of these lands. What do you benefit from throwing your lot into our wars?"
"He had what I wanted," you said, nodding to the unconscious commander.
"Had?" the man noted, an eyebrow quirking up. At your smug silence, he couldn't keep his lips from twitching into a ghost of a smile. "Ah, so you've already gotten what you wanted, then." He leaned back in his chair. "Then allow me to make you an offer of my own."
"That won't be necessary," you said. "I am under...particular confidence that I have already gotten everything I could from here. That is, for one thing."
Then you nodded towards the abandoned city and called to your dragons, whistlewhistlewhistle-scree!
Destroy with fire.
Dragons lurking in the smoke descended, comets of darkness against the hazy sky. They tore into the city walls and battlements with flames. The men of the armies cried out in a mixture of outrage and terror, but they didn't dare approach you.
"It is my understanding that most of your population is enslaved as well," you said. You frowned. "How dehumanizing."
"Then what is it that you want?" the man snarled.
"I want you to release your slaves—all of you," you announced. "No man should be under the subjugation of another. And since you've done me the favor of marking your slaves with brands," you said this with disgust curling across your face, "I will know very well of any attempts to keep them."
More explosions erupted within the city walls. The dragons were destroying it all. Citizens fled from the city gates with nowhere to go, knowing they were running to the enemy that would no sooner kill, violate, and enslave them.
If not for you.
"A city built on the backs of slaves does not deserve to exist," you went on, eyes hard in the firelight. "Perhaps you may rebuild it with the labor of beasts, instead."
Explosions sounded from behind, as well. The commander's camp.
"An army built from slaves is no less tolerable."
Men screamed and dragons roared. You did not turn to look at them. You knew enough would survive to send your message roaring through the lands.
People from both sides began to break away and flee. Some bore visible slave-marks on their foreheads while others did not. Nobody moved to stop them. Nobody moved at all. All eyes were fixated on you, the man who could order the destruction of two armies with a mere wave of his hand.
The would-be emperor's hard, calculating eyes met yours. "You have decimated our armies," he said. He waved out to the burning forests and trampled fields. "You have ravaged our lands." He glanced over his shoulder at his city, just as the walls began to dissolve among the flames. "And now, our home. I can only assume from our broken communication lines that this fate befell those of our other cities, as well."
"How very clever of you," you drawled with a wry grin.
The broken emperor did not react to the news, though it must have been terrible. "And what is it for? Some...ideal that slaves should not exist?"
"Not ideal," you corrected. "Reality."
The emperor scoffed. "What, then, is left for us? We have no home, no wealth, no land, and now, if you have your way, no slaves. What, then, do you leave us?"
Your bemused expression snapped into a fierce, singular focus that would send a lesser man quailing. You straightened from your laid-back posture and leaned forward. No matter how hard he tried, the man could not help but flinch back.
After several long moments, you grinned, sat back, and steepled your fingers before your face. "Your lives."
o.O.o
Your flying-ship was bustling with activity by the day's end. Dragons attached to the ship's chains gorged themselves on horsemeat from the battle, readying for a long flight back home. Men were loading foodstuffs, fresh water, and items of value into the ship.
You made your way up to the gangplank, and…
...and…
...and…
"Oh, silly me," you said. "All this drama and mystery almost made me forget your dose."
Exhaustion and fear and panic turned the world blurry, a nauseating cacophony of physical and mental pain alike.
You turned around, grasping a vial that sloshed with vibrant, purple liquid. You reached out and tugged on the harness on my neck.
My neck.
Me. Me. Me.
I tore my eyes—my eyes—from the poison. I looked at him—not to him. My gaze, my volition, facing his. My whole world, small and broken and doomed to fade, focused on him. My body, my will, my self, my existence—all of it!—but a breath of defiance in the booming thunderstorm of this torture.
The venom was too strong, even now, even weakening. All I could manage was to keep my eyes locked onto his, pouring my soul into them, so that he could know me even as he locked me away.
"I hate you," I whispered.
He grinned. "The feeling is quite mutual, Night Fury."
There was a snap and a click. A burst of cold at the nape of my neck—
The nausea lurched away, bringing the world into crisp clarity. You smiled to yourself, stood from where you had been crouching, and walked away.
Your vial was now empty, although it had been full before.
