Chapter 19

The knife burrowed into Victor’s abdomen. For a moment, the whole world turned ethereal, an echo of reality where everything was upside down, and the impossible became possible. A dimension only the deepest dreams would reach. But there were no dreams. This was reality, in all its lucid glory, and no amount of wishful thinking was to change that fact.

Victor buried his head into his father’s chest. The tears sprung out his eyes onto the cold floor in a waterfall like fashion. Lothar dropped sideways onto his nest, holding his son in his claws ever so tightly. Both cried and stroked one another, sharing their sorrow. All they had left was each other. Victor’s friends and family are now gone, spare for his massive golden father. And Lothar, had he left a few seconds later, his entire family would’ve been wiped out. All the blood, sweat and tears shed as leader of the rebellion would’ve meant nothing.

Lothar’s wings twitched. “Son… forgive me. Forgive me for everything,” he said. Every word made him choke on his breath; the pain was evident in his voice. With a loud sob, he spread his wings, and draped one over his son.

“But why… and how?” Victor asked, staring straight into his father’s eyes, “How did this happen?”

“It is a long story, son,” Lothar said. “I will tell you everything soon. Don’t worry, son. I’m here now.” He folded up his wing, and nodded calmly.

“But mother… and Charlotte…”

“I know, son...”

Victor buried his face back into Lothar’s chest. His father’s claws wrapped themselves tighter around his back, one holding him still, the other repeatedly stroking him. A large drop of water landed on his neck, followed by another sob. Lothar dragged the tip of his snout to Victor’s ear, and whispered that everything would be alright, over and over again.

After hugging and crying with his son for several minutes, Lothar’s head shot in the air. “Novekk. Are you still there?” he said. Both him and Merahn were outside his lair still, alongside the dragons investigating the ruckus they heard.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Please, tell the priest to prepare for tomorrow. And tell the cooks to prepare a feast afterwards,” he said. Victor twisted his neck upwards in confusion. All of a sudden Lothar sounded confident in himself, as if his grief had been sucked out of his body.

“It will be done, my lord,” Novekk said. In a flash, a smile appeared on his snout. “Come, Merahn. I’m sure you want to be a part of this!” he said to the grey dragoness, having returned to the jolly fool he was in the sick bay. Merahn bared her teeth with a gasp, then squealed excitedly. Her eyes sparkled, as she strolled out of the lair after Novekk, tail swishing happily about in the air.

Victor’s toes shriveled. What… just happened? Why did those two obey without a second guess, and what was with those smiles? His skin crawled. Lothar needed not intimidate for those two to follow his order: to the contrary, they were pleased to do it. A far cry from the leadership back in the guild, who assured his power through fear; Lothar’s command was guiding, stern yet warm, as if a reward awaited those who followed it. As if he were everyone’s father. Perhaps this is how he became their leader.

After the two monochrome dragons left, so too did the assembled crowd. The tunnels echoed with their talons clicking away, as they headed back to whatever duties they had to attend to. Lothar let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you Divinity, we are together again,” he muttered, his head craned upwards to the ceiling. With a deep breath through his nose, he hummed an unfamilar song, and resumed stroking Victor with his talons.

A trickle of sweat dropped from Victor’s forehead. It was hot, and Lothar’s talons made him uncomfortable. Still his fate wasn’t clear, and it worried him to no end. Lothar wanted preparations for tomorrow, a religious ritual by the sound of it. Given how protective his father was, the feast planned afterwards, and the happy tone which Lothar spoke with, it had been planned for him. A welcoming gift. Or something far worse.

Lothar still happily hummed his tune. Everything was okay now. His son was with him, tucked away in the safety of his claws; no fool, enemy or ally, would dare touch his son now. Memories of him savaging his own allies came to Victor’s mind. Although horrifying, they removed any doubt that the golden dragon wanted him dead. Why else would he have committed such a gruesome act, the repercussions of which likely far reaching? He breathed out in relief, yet unease haunted him still.

Moments later, Lothar lowered his head down to Victor’s level. ”How do you feel, my little angel? You are not unwell, I hope?”

“It’s hot here,” Victor said, staring at his own chest. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him call me that…

“Oh, my sincerest apologies. Our blessed forms are receptive to warmth, and thus most dragons choose to keep their lair heated, myself included. Do not worry, soon it will be much more comfortable for you,” Lothar said.

Victor groaned. The poison had done a number on his body, and his worries kept growing worse. “My child, is something troubling you?”

“I just don’t feel too well.” Victor glanced at the dragon’s head next to him. His father’s head by itself was larger than him, a surprise big enough to make him flinch for a moment.

“Do not worry,” Lothar said. “It will be all better when you are cured tomorrow.” A tear of joy trickled from his eyes.

Victor bit his cheeks. “What are you planning?” he asked. “I thought you were organizing something religious for tomorrow, now you’re talking about a cure. What is going on?” Nervously, he wiggled around trying to free himself from Lothar’s claws. Of course, the chance it would work were nihil, given the difference in size and strength.

Lothar gazed peacefully into his son’s eyes “Again, have no fear, my son. Divinity’s might reaches further than your wildest imagination. His blessing is capable of eliminating any ailment you might suffer from. And not just that, never again will you be sick, thanks to Divinity’s blessing. No more virulent diseases, nor infestations, I promise you.”

From his quick, fast breathing, to the tone of his voice, it became painfully evident more was at play. Lothar’s excitement was far too extreme for a simple cure. “No, son,” he replied when Victor pressed him on it, “It is a grand cure you will receive, but nothing more. You cannot talk your way out of this.”

“...Why not?” Victor asked timidly. Lothar’s voice had turned stern, his gaze too had become harsher. It reminded him of a teacher he had back at the private school he attended when he was young.

“Because I cannot lose you, my angel. I have been without you, my darling wife, and my other little angel for so long, and I have lost them both. I cannot lose you too, son. I can’t...” The pain in Lothar’s voice had come back. Next thing Victor knew, he was pressed against his father’s neck; both claws held him in place. “Please, son.”

“Yes, father.” Victor let out a deep sigh. No point in continuing to resist. “Just tell me how all this came to be. Why did you leave us behind for these caves?”

With a rumble in his throat, and a flick of his wings, Lothar seated his son against the wall. An accidental buckle of his knee sent a jolt of pain up Victor’s spine, leading to him hissing loudly; the poison wasn’t giving up without a fight. With a small mutter from Lothar, the pain calmed back to its original form. “It is my pleasure to, son. I am certain that you have wondered for a long time.” Victor nodded. Lothar gave a nod back, and continued. “Once upon a time, I was but a small lad, carelessly living through life as most have. That all changed however, after I almost passed from this world.”

Victor’s eyes widened. His father had a near death experience? Not even his mother had told him about this. “My parents lost me during a walk in the woods. I was lost, crying out for help, when a pack of wolves surrounded me. Then, just as they were about to tear me to pieces, a grand dragoness descended upon them. With her mighty claws, she tore them apart. They were powerless before her great copper hide! Yet I felt no fear, watching her disembowel the beasts. Instead, I felt warm inside, and it was then I knew this was no coincidence. After the battle, she took me under her wing, and brought her back to my parents, who were overjoyed at seeing me back in one piece. They sang the praises of Divinity to the mighty dragoness, who kindly replied that it was her duty, and that she was happy to see our family safe.”

Lothar hummed as he relished in his childhood memories. Victor rolled his eyes. How ironic. He hacked up a fake cough, cutting Lothar off. “Why is this relevant to you abandoning our family? That’s what I want to-”

“That comes now, my son,” Lothar said. He tilted his head backwards, and a deep breath entered his nostrils. “Ever since that fateful day, I have been a devoted Draconist. My parents had sought Divinity’s aid, and he sent one of his strongest warriors to save me, a mere peasant boy who knew nothing of his glory. Never in my life will I stop thanking him. I fell to my knees, begging for my parents to convert me to their great religion. The next day, I was converted at the Citadel Temple, and I have devoted my life to better the world in Divinity’s name ever since.”

Victor sighed, and dug out the dirt that had accumulated in his eyes. His father told him plenty of history, besides what he wanted to know. For all he knew, this was all a lie meant to keep him distracted, until he forget about the matter entirely. Exhaustion clawed at his body much like a dragon clawed at its prey; sleep would be a blessing at this point.

But Lothar had other ideas, and he continued on as if his son was perfectly awake. “In the old kingdom, conversion to Draconism would be generously rewarded. I was given an education, a home, tax breaks, and entry into the officer school, all free of charge. My devotion was rewarded by the faithful who ruled. It was a glorious time,” Lothar triumphantly exclaimed.

Of course, Victor had gotten a far different picture from Ol’ Johnny. Those who didn’t align themselves with the cult were left to rot, not a damn given by the officials. It tempted to tell Lothar all about this, given his sheer ignorance, but the exhaustion gnawing at his bones made him back off.

“Alas, it all came to an end. When the imperials attacked us…” Lothar bared his teeth, and growled at the banner hanging besides him. Victor trembled.

“Eight years ago, they attacked our beautiful kingdom. Even though we inflicted major defeats upon them, we failed to hold them back. They were far too many. When the Citadel fell… they rounded up every Draconist they could find, and had them hanged. They came to destroy our beautiful home and wonderful faith, they destroyed our monuments to the great triumphs and sacrifices of past Draconist heroes. So much was lost that night. That is why I had to flee, for they would have slain me.”

Victor stared bewildered into his father’s amber eyes. “But why did you not take us with you?”

“Because I did not want to rob you of your childhood, son.” Lothar hung his head low. “I did not want to subject you to the horrors of war. It is why your mother settled in the quiet Ravens Hill province, and why you have that amulet. So that you would never forget me, no matter what. After the liberation of our homeland, I would have returned. But… I made a mistake.”

Again did the melancholy return, one tasted it in the air itself. Victor eyes watered. His father peeked at him with tears flowing out of his eyes. An eyeblink later, he found himself wrapped in a golden claw, the snout of his father pressing against his chest. “I can’t lose you, my angel. I can’t lose you.. Not you too....”

For an hour, they sobbed with one another, mourning the loss of half their family. Two people they adored with all their heart, from far different perspectives, gone forever.

* * *

After a long time spent sobbing, their grief transformed into a desire to sleep; both struggled to stay awake, given their dreamy ramblings and struggling to keep their eyelids pried open. When Lothar and Victor yawned at the same time, both decided to end their sorrow by wishing each other a blessed night.

With a tired moan, Victor lowered himself against his father’s side. A large wing was then spread out over him like a tent, darkening the surroundings. Finally, there was relief from today’s horrors. He closed his eyes, and sleep overtook him shortly afterwards, to the sounds of his father’s peaceful, throaty snoring.