Chapter 39: Trapped Beneath Scales

Saffron glared at Kingsley from behind the bars of the dank dungeon. She wrapped her arms around herself and met his eyes, which had returned to their normal blue. “I would assume that you knew of her plans?” Saffron questioned.
He dipped his head once. “I was aware. I have known since I was a child. I was raised to someday take the throne.”
“You knew that you would have to kill for it?” she exclaimed, disbelief in her voice. He nodded again.
“I knew that it was the only way,” he said, almost sadly. She noticed that something had changed since the last time that she had seen him. Before he had seemed fervid and confident. Now he just appeared to be resigned to his fate.
“Couldn’t you have just said no?” Saffron asked, stepping closer and placed her hands on the bars between them. His blue eyes roved to hers and held them for a moment.
“You cannot resist mother, I am afraid,” he stated flatly.
“Well, why not?” Saffron countered. He leaned against the bars, his arm above his head.
“She is in here,” he tapped his temple. “And here,” He placed his hand over his heart. “I cannot resist her because I am her, or at least a part of her. Did you know that she had three children before me? All girls,” he said and continued to gaze at her unsettlingly. Saffron shook her head, fearing what was to come next.
“Yes, well. They were girls and when your sights are set on the throne, you need a male.” Saffron gasped in horror, her hand flew to her mouth.
“No,” she said and felt the tears spring into her eyes. He nodded regrettably.
“I am afraid so. She told Orion that they had died of natural causes and he never questioned it. He was proud to have five sons. Although, they were both disappointed that I wasn’t more like Elric,” he snorted bitterly.
“Elric? Why him?” Saffron asked and stood up straighter at the mention of her beloved’s name.
“Please. Why him? He is strong, he can lead men, and the women fawn over him.” He said pointedly. Her cheeks colored slightly.
“But for me?” he gestured at his thin body. “This isn’t the body of a king. Before my mother completely infected my mind, I used to enjoy painting. I used to fantasize that I would run away and just paint somewhere. Even if I were poor and lived amongst the peasants, I would be happier.”
“You can still do it! You can run away. Elric and I can help you!” she said, pressing her face closer to his, her eyes pleading. He stroked one long finger down her cheek. Shivers ran down her spine as he cupped her chin. He leaned closer; his lips brushed hers. They tasted of metal and a hint of lingering sulfur.
“I can never run away. And neither can you,” he whispered and left the dungeon without looking back. Saffron leaned her head against the bars, her heart beating wildly.
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Elric sat next to Ishild, trapped in his dragon form. He had never before been forced to shift and able to not change back. He felt as if he were trapped in his own flesh. Ishild sat motionless, her eyes dark and faraway. He tried willing himself to shift but nothing happened. His scales stubbornly sat fixed.
A scrabbling in the corner drew his attention. He didn’t move but his eyes shifted. He saw August and Gwendolyn hiding behind the throne. They were battered and bruised, but still alive. It was curious that Kingsley had chosen to throw them as opposed to eviscerate them like the others. August met his brother’s eyes and froze, never before having seen a dragon.
He quickly regained his senses and gripped Gwendolyn’s hand, his eyes pleading towards Elric. Elric turned his attention back to the evil queen sitting on her throne coated in sticky blood. He tried shifting again, harder this time, pushing against whatever magical restraints held him captive.
“Stop struggling, Elric,” her voice floated towards him.
“Bitch,” he thought. He sensed August and Gwendolyn moving towards the door at the back of the room. Ishild hadn’t seemed to notice.
“I can hear you,” she replied, her voice now in his head. He started. He had not realized that he could communicate while as a dragon.
“Yes, if you are wondering, you can communicate. It is a shame your mother hadn’t lived long enough to teach you the ways of the dragons,” she said coyly. He growled and snapped his jaws at her. She chuckled and sat back, studying him.
“She was lovely, you know. You look much like her. I only killed her because I had to. I took no real pleasure in taking her life. Not like I did with your father,” she stated and glanced over at the dead king, who was beginning to turn a disturbing mottled purple. She waved her hand over his body and he began to crumble into black ash. “I really should have that cleaned up. Verita!” she called.
Verita strode through the doors. “Yes, madame?” she asked.
“I need this removed,” Ishild said, gesturing towards the corpse. Verita’s eyes raked the king’s body, no expression on her face.
“Right away,” she bowed and left, leaving to retrieve a broom.
“Yes, this is going lovely so far,” she said gleefully and smiled, stroking Elric’s gilded snout.