A Kingdom Of Dragons, The Dragon King and The Werewolf Princess

A Kingdom Of Dragons: The Dragon King and The Werewolf Princess. Chapter One. The shadows of twilight danced across the pathways as a dark-cloaked figure walked through the small side streets of the Fae quarter in Neutraliss, the capital of the neutral zone. He was hiding in the darkened areas the morning dawn brought, avoiding detection as best as he could. The man moved with purpose, not too quick, not too slow, avoiding drawing any attention to himself. He did not wish to be seen, not by anyone, be they Fae, Wolf, Dragon or Human. His shoulders were hunched to minimise his 6-foot-7-inch height, which could give away his identity, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. The man pulled the hood of his black cape low over his head and face to avoid recognition. His heart thundered in his chest, anxious at what could happen should he be discovered. Not that he was fearful of any person in the physical sense. No. His dragon itself caused his nervous state of mind, the part of him which could incinerate whole cities with just one breath. But that was not what disturbed him. The dragon, who should not be obsessed with anything other than treasure and power, had a different fixation, and if he decided to force a shift and fly off to seek out the object of his desires, then things would become more than a little awkward. The man part of the beast had realised, in a way which was detrimental to more than himself, that his dragon was, in his opinion, faulty. Shiny jewels did not distract him, nor anything else a normal dragon would find irresistible. Over the past few years, he had tried to collect expensive rocks, which shone brightly, but they failed to interest his dragon. In fact, there was nothing which could. Not jewels, nor women, nor power. Nothing. There was one thing, and one thing only his dragon wanted, and it was the one thing the man formally known as Prince Lucias, heir to the golden dragon throne, who some called King, and others spat on the ground at his treachery, had determined the beast could not have. He had not wanted to leave the safety of the small, rundown place he now called home. He preferred to remain hidden inside, away from the accusations, away from the shame he carried, and the looks of pity when his right arm was exposed. But most of all, he wanted to remain far away, and utterly hidden, from her. Despite attempting to remain obscured from the world of Mythicalia, he had been left with no choice but to seek out the medical magic which controlled the agony in his arm. That morning, excruciating pain had driven him out into the public, risking exposing himself in the capital city of the Neutral Zone, Neutraliss. His only relief from the physical pain and emotional torment was the magical elixir, which he needed to take daily, but it had run out four days ago, and the severe pain was becoming almost all-consuming. Usually, the elixir would arrive, encased in a rainbow bubble of magic, right to his door. A gift from the Fae king, who had taken pity on him the day his life changed forever. But it had not arrived, and he knew it wouldn’t. His last delivery had contained a note, handwritten in ink from a quill, on parchment, in perfect italic script. The golden dragon had known the day would come when Zamir would force him out of his hiding place, but it was still a shock when he had. It may have been three years. But it still felt too soon. My friend, the true king of the Golden Dragons, Lucias. The time has come for you to shine once more. To walk into your destiny. You can no longer avoid it. Destiny cannot be hidden from, nor can it be avoided forever. You must take your throne, at the very least. The dragons are leaderless, some are out of control, and they need your firm, yet fair leadership. I know you feel they will never accept you, but I am here to remind you. They will. Eventually. Some old friends already do, and long to see you take your rightful place. Therefore, my friend, as much as I hate to do this to you, I feel I have little choice. This is the last batch of my pain elixir that I will send you. You need to get back out into the world, claim your throne, and face your past. Our sister will leave the interspecies school soon, as will her ‘friend’, things are changing, life is moving forward, and you can no longer avoid the truth. It is time to step into your destiny. I cannot enable your seclusion any longer. It is not good for you, the Kingdom of Dragons, or the world of Mythicalia. This world is changing, and nothing can stop it. Not you, not I, not Fitz, the werewolf king, not even the humans, and not the girl who haunts your every thought. I know you will still have physical pain, so I have made ready the elixir at the Fae Markets. If you want relief, then you must step outside your door and face the world once more to get it. Please, do not be stubborn and cause yourself more discomfort than necessary. I wish you well, and I hate that this day has come where I must turn my back on you, but it is for your own sake. Forever your friend, even if you despise me in this moment, Zamir, King of the Fae. Lucias had fought against leaving his small one-roomed apartment located in the rundown human area of the city, filled with thieves, vagabonds, and the criminals who resided in the less-than-affluent area. He had believed he could manage without the relief the elixir gave him, but the agony from the injury inflicted by the death waters had become too much to bear, and so, that morning, driven half-crazed from the burning pain, he relented. He turned down the narrow side street that led to the rear part of the market, his good hand moving to his blackened arm, itching the scales and flesh beneath the cloak, but it gave no relief, only caused more agony, so intense it took his breath away. He moved through the stalls that were setting up for the day's business, keeping his head low to avoid recognition. His shoulder-length golden-tinged blonde hair was tied back into a bun at the back of his head; to halt any loose strands becoming exposed should the hood move. He approached the small stall, the vendor still setting up for the day ahead; tiny bottles filled with a pastel-coloured rainbow liquid, which he instantly recognised, were piled high on one edge, as the Fae market trader laughed with the other traders, who adorned the market, which spanned over a square mile. Rows and rows of tables set out, laden with Fae products and produce. “90 bottles, if you please,” Lucias stated, nodding with his hooded head toward the bottles, which were the only thing to help take away the agony in his arm and calm his thoughts about a certain person he wanted nothing more than to forget. However, he kept his face turned slightly away from the vendor to avoid any chance of recognition. “Sorry, good sir, but we can only sell five bottles at a time. By order of King Zamir,” the trader informed him with a sympathetic look on his face. Lucias felt the heat of annoyance burning in his stomach, the fire inside rising, wanting to burn everything in its wake. But the man refused to allow his dragon’s heat within to escape, and held his fiery breath. He knew all too well that the heat would turn to either smoke or flame, and he could not afford to let his dragon's fire escape him, revealing his true identity. For which other dragon in the world would need medicine for pain, other than the one hit by death waters, three years prior? Of course, Zamir had restricted the amount he could purchase. The Fae king wanted him to return to the land of the living, and so was making it impossible for him to remain hidden for more than a few days at a time. Forcing him outside, back into the light, to face those who stood against him. To see ‘her’, once more. The cloaked dragon nodded his head once, agreeing to the transaction, then pulled out a golden coin from the small leather drawstring purse, which was tied to his belt, and placed a golden coin onto the table with a glove-covered hand. The trader took the coin, his eyebrows rising slightly. The coin was pure dragon’s gold, worth ten times the cost of the elixir. “Your change, good sir,” the trader said, wondering if he had enough coin to reimburse the difference, such was the value of the coin. Lucias shook his head from side to side. “Keep it. But I was never here,” he stated. “Of course, you may be assured of my secrecy,” the trader smiled, rubbing his thumb and finger together, creating a pastel rainbow magical bag which lifted the bottles into the air, before they floated to Lucias’ gloved hand. Lucias moved as quickly as he could, back to the solitude of his apartment, the rising sun illuminating the way. The urge to bask in its warmth and light was almost all-consuming, but he resisted with the stubborn determination he was known for and kept to the places where its rays had not yet kissed. He had five days of relief before he would need to make the trip to the market again. Five days to decide what his next course of action would be. Five days of solitude left, maybe Zamir was correct. It was time to face the music for his treachery and move back to the Sand Lands, where the magical pain relief would not be required, and claim his rightful place. Maybe he was safest there, because that was the only place that she would not go. The werewolf princess who had been the cause of his seclusion, whose stubbornness drove him crazy, the girl, soon to be a woman, who no matter what he did consumed his thoughts, and more concerning still, the thoughts of his dragon. The girl whom he loved to hate. The girl whom he killed his own father and betrayed his own kind for, because everything inside him needed to protect her, not just from the world at large, but also from himself, and especially his dragon.