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Chapter 52

Early that morning, Veledar gave a great, tongue-curling yawn as he stretched luxuriously on the bed of his human Umraadi. The dragon wiggled his body against the softness of the mattress, making a mental note to procure something of similar comfort for his lair. Opening his eyes, he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling while his frilled tail flicked rhythmically against the floor. Of course, such a bed would need to be far larger to accommodate the entirety of his majestic form.

Veledar stretched each of his limbs toward the sky, feeling the satisfying pull of his muscles, before throwing his neck down on the soft bed. He reflected on his good fortune that the room contained little furniture, for he surely would have knocked something over during the previous evening’s escapades. His claws lightly scraped the bedpost as he basked in the tranquil morning light, savoring the peacefulness that enveloped him.

With a groan that rumbled through his chest, Veledar stirred as the morning sun cast its golden embrace over his scales, wrapping him in a cloak of warmth and comfort. He let out a contented sigh, thoughts drifting to the pleasant notion of spending the day basking in the sun's glow. After all, who would dare argue with their most beautiful, compassionate, humble, and benevolent leader? But as he flexed his paws, a pang of longing struck him. This idyllic vision lacked the presence of a certain Arcturus, whose warmth and affection had become essential to him.

Realizing that this was not a problem that would resolve itself, Veledar's mind drifted to the inevitable admonishments from his companions if he lingered in bed. They had plans to attend to, and the promise of treasure lingered tantalizingly in his thoughts. With a reluctant growl, he rolled over, the memories of the previous night's bitter defeat fresh in his mind, tempered only by Arcturus' unwavering love. His heart swelled at the thought of the man, a delightful warmth spreading through his limbs. If anything was worth the trials and tribulations, it was Arcturus—the knight who had claimed his heart.

Growling in the back of his throat he started to shift and turn, casting off the dark clay sheets as he rose to the hard wood floors. Though he would love to laze about in the sun, he considered the coming chastisement not worth it, even if he would relish figuring out ways to make everyone save Arcturus, flushed and on the verge of cursing him out. Rolling a paw to his chest he adjusted his size ever slightly, larger than Krotos at least, last thing he needed was to be dragging his scales along the walls.

In the dimly lit hallway, Veledar’s stomach growled, echoing his own discontent. The paths before him twisted and turned, each one a potential route, each one a potential mistake. Did the house look this confusing last night? Frustration welled up inside him, and he pinned his frills back in irritation. He tried to catch Arcturus’ scent, but it had gone cold. The only scent that lingered was his own, muddled in every direction. A smirk curled his snout as memories of their passionate night surfaced.

He couldn't afford distractions. Veledar growled, banishing his lustful thoughts, focusing instead on the task at hand. What would the others say if they found out he was lost? He, the great and formidable Veledar, outwitted by a maze of hallways.

“Damn your confusing house, Arcturus.” he hissed, his tail thumping the floor with a resounding "hmmpf."

Choosing the left path, he padded along, his thoughts dwelling upon Arcturus no sooner had he taken a breath. Not only was he here, traversing the halls of the Lund family line without a care, but he’d also captured the heart of their last heir.

Who would have thought they would end up together? He hummed quietly, his haunches swaying as he moved. Their story was like the romance tomes he had devoured over the years. Once adversaries, forced into an alliance, their rocky beginning had given way to star-filled nights and whispered confessions. This mortal had brought an inexplicable joy into his life, a joy not even the old dragoness Zaedel had given him.

"My greatest treasure." Veledar sighed, the words heavy with the weight of his affection. He paused mid-stride, his thoughts yanked back to the ominous prophecy of the Emerald Lady. She had foretold that his most cherished possession would be torn from his claws. The memory of her words wrapped around his heart like a vice, squeezing the joy out of the moment.

Preposterous. Veledar scoffed at the very notion, tossing his head in defiance. Arcturus torn from his claws? Impossible. His strength was far too great for that. Besides, he was Veledar, Crimson Sky the Bold, savior of paladins, defeater of liches. His smirk grew with every step, concocting half a dozen more titles to add to his name. He pictured Arcturus rolling out a parchment to greet those enamored with the dragon’s presence, the scroll unfurling behind him, seemingly endless.

He drummed his claws on the floor, swishing his tail as he rounded a corner to another corridor identical to the last. Frustration welled up within him, and he paused to hiss, slamming a paw against the wall and shredding its surface with his talons.

This hallway, however, held a singular difference—a window. Veledar stared out, tapping a talon against the glass, contemplating whether he should break it. He certainly could; it would free him and make Reginald's threats laughable. But it would also reveal to the others that he had failed to find a way out. He snorted, fogging the glass, trying to devise a grand excuse for breaking the window, but he came up empty-pawed.

Very well, he would continue, determined not to be bested by this infernal maze. Instead, he dwelled on his love, the dashing knight who impressed him with his bravery. Arcturus, the silver-tongued human who blushed and caressed scales as though destined to. The thought distracted him so well that he accidentally knocked over a vase, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

"Of course, I find the one vase in the hall." Veledar groaned aloud, surveying the utter destruction. He cast a wary glance at the many doors, half-expecting one of his companions to leap out and torment him for his clumsiness. However, after a few breaths, it was clear no one was coming. No one would know of this mishap. Nor would anyone learn about it, as he hastily swept the shards of the vase underneath the rug.

Just like that, not a sign of his destruction remained. His chest swelled with pride, praising himself for his ingenuity. As he departed with a clacking of claws, he wondered if he should even be concerned. If Arcturus was his mate now, did that make the estate his? His mind bristled with delight at the prospect, laughing internally at the thought of the old Lunds rolling in their graves as a dragon conquered their family line utterly.

"First things first, though." he muttered, scowling at the confounding walls. "Redecorate this place. Make every hallway unique, so I won’t get lost."

Veledar's claws clenched, the acrid stench of death assaulting his senses as he prowled deeper into the labyrinthine hall. He halted abruptly, his gaze fixated on a partially open door from which a pungent musk emanated, drawing him in despite his growing unease. With a cautious paw, he pushed the door further open, its rusty hinges groaning in protest, allowing a flood of sunlight to pierce the dimness within.

Bones dangled eerily from the ceiling by fragile wires, their skeletal remains casting long, haunting shadows over the crimson carpet below. Glass cases lined the walls, meticulously arranged to showcase the grisly trophies of centuries-old dragon hunts. Veledar's throat tightened with revulsion at the sight of shimmering scales and shattered horns, lifeless eyes staring emptily from stuffed heads mounted like grotesque ornaments.

Disgust twisted his features into a snarl as he turned his scrutiny to the walls adorned with countless plaques bearing engraved names and details of each slain dragon. Each one a grim reminder of the Lund family's relentless pursuit of dragonkind. It was a chamber of horrors, a testament to the brutality and arrogance of those who saw dragons not as majestic beings, but as mere trophies to be conquered and displayed.

"No dragon should endure such indignity." Veledar growled through clenched teeth, as he advanced into the room. He fixated on a particularly vivid display—a bronze dragon's head mounted on a wooden plaque. With a primal roar of outrage, he seized the trophy, ripping it from its mount and hurling it to the floor. The impact shattered the glass case beneath it, sending shards cascading in all directions.

His blood surged with fiery indignation, envisioning the agonized cries of dragons echoing through the halls as the Lunds brought them to an unjust end. This chamber of horrors deserved to be razed to ashes, wiped clean from existence so that it could no longer tarnish Arcturus' noble legacy. His paladin was no longer bound by such darkness, having chosen a path of honor and love with him.

With a fierce snarl, Veledar unleashed his fury upon a finely crafted chair, its elegant form reduced to splinters under the force of his mighty tail. His fire glands pulsed with power, a silent threat of the inferno he could unleash to purge this place of its vile memories. But as he prepared to breathe righteous flames, a troubling thought arrested his wrath.

What would Arcturus think? What of Thaddeus and the others who now called this estate home? If his fire were to rage out of control, consuming not just the trophies of oppression but everything else in its path.

"Manticore's bottom." Veledar growled, swallowing back the fiery wrath that threatened to consume him. Instead, he unleashed his fury upon the carpet, tearing it to shreds with powerful strokes of his claws.

For moments that stretched into eternity, Veledar reveled in the destruction he wrought upon this room of horrors. Splintered wood and shattered trophies lay in ruins around him, testament to his righteous vengeance. It might not erase the past, but never again would these fallen dragons be displayed as mere trophies of conquest. Panting atop his makeshift pile of wreckage, Veledar allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction. His gaze swept over the desolation he had wrought, a grim smile curling his lips as he contemplated his next.

It was in this pause, amidst the wreckage and the lingering scent of dust and destruction, that Veledar's gaze fell upon a familiar head mounted before an oil painting. His heart clenched in disbelief as he recognized the silver scales and the blank, lifeless expression staring back at him.

It was his mother.

The dragoness who had adopted him, protected him, and given him a home, now reduced to a lifeless trophy on these accursed walls. Tentative steps carried him closer, each one heavy with the desperate hope that this was some cruel dream. Perhaps he would wake sprawled upon Arcturus' bed, laughing at his own foolish fears.

But as his claws traced the scales that he had caressed countless times in his youth, the reality settled in. Anguish tightened Veledar's chest as he stood before the cold, dead eyes of his beloved mother, the one who’s sweet words had filled him with courage, comforted him when he ached, the one who shared her wisdom of Bahamut and mortal kind. Tears built in the dragon’s eyes as a sob worked its way through his scales, the mortals she’d protected, thought highly of had put her to the sword, severed her head and paraded it around as some great victory.

"No, no, no." Veledar muttered, his voice barely audible amidst the tumult of his racing thoughts. His gaze drifted from the head, towards the banners it rested between. They were ones he knew far too well, dark green, emblazoned with a golden lion clutching a shield and sword.

The banners of his nightmares.

They had slain his brother, taken his biological mother, and left his life in ruins. For how many years had he harbored a seething desire to see those who bore these wretched standards brought to justice, to suffer as his loved ones had suffered? All his pain and fury now coalesced into a singular figure—Arcturus Lund, the man he had loved.

As his mind reeled from this shocking revelation, Veledar's eyes were drawn to a painting adorning the wall, a cruel celebration of this grim truth. It depicted Arcturus as a boy, unmistakable in his features and eyes, smiling innocently beside his father. The elder Lund radiated pride, his arm wrapped protectively around the young Arcturus, while behind them lay the bleeding body of Veledar's beloved mother. Standing beside them, a sinister presence in his benign guise, was Nigel the lich.

Stunned beyond comprehension, Veledar stumbled backwards, his foot catching on broken chairs and splintered remnants of furniture. How could this be? His mind grasped desperately for answers as he collapsed to the floor, hollow and numb, a wave of icy realization piercing him to the core.

It was all connected—the darkest moments of his life, the sinister hand of the Lunds, even the malevolent presence of Nigel himself. Had his entire journey, his every triumph and defeat, been orchestrated to ensnare him, to ultimately slay him as his mother had been slain?

To think that all this time, the murderer of his brother and mother had been sheltered under his very wings. The insidious corruption seeped into his scales, clouding his senses until he found himself entangled with the spawn of dragonslayers. With each pound of his heart, the pain and anguish reverberated through him, as raw and agonizing as the day it had first unfolded. The metallic scent of his adoptive mother's blood haunted his nostrils, her cries echoing in his ears, driving him to the brink of madness.

Blood boiled within Veledar, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. His ancient oath, sworn in his brother’s name, resonated in his soul. Today, he vowed that all the lives, misery, and misfortune that the Lunds had inflicted upon dragonkind would be avenged.

With a primal roar, Veledar unleashed his wrath upon the room. His claws rent the walls to shreds, splintering wood and rending furniture asunder. Flames erupted in a torrent, consuming all that could be burned, transforming the chamber into a blazing inferno.

Pleasure coursed through every sinew of Veledar's being, each smoky breath a gratifying sensation upon his tongue. Yet even as he beheld the wreckage of the Lunds' trophies, he knew his task was far from complete. Arcturus remained.

With a savage crash, he burst through a window, shards of glass raining down upon the ground below as he launched into flight. His wings pounded the air with relentless force, propelling him upwards until he regained his full size, twisting through the frigid winds with unwavering determination.

Pounding his wings, he focused on the man who’d ensnared him, tricked him with honeyed words that had twisted his mind. Had Arcturus been biding his time, waiting for the dragon to drop his guard? Promising affection and oaths with no substance behind them? The red haze tinted Veledar's vision as he closed in on the paladin, every memory of their time together now tainted with the bitter taste of deception and betrayal. He found him, patrolling upon the ground with Merlia at his side.

“Arcturus!” He thundered with untold fury, landing upon the ground in a bumpy trot. He surged forth as the paladin stopped in his tracks, clutching at his heart as if in pain.

“What's the matter?" Merlia exclaimed, rushing to Arcturus' side, only for the dragon to surge forward and toss her away with a paw.

"This doesn't concern you, dwarf." Veledar snarled.

"What in the blazes is going on?" Merlia shouted, her face reddening as she rolled to a stop.

"Veledar... what?" Arcturus managed to grit through clenched teeth, his expression pained as he looked at the dragon.

With swift and savage resolve, Veledar threw the knight to the ground with his claw without warning. He snarled, teeth bared mere inches from Arcturus' face, his paw pressing down with talons threatening to pierce through cloth to flesh beneath. His blood surged with an intense instinct, urging him to swiftly bring about the downfall of the Lunds under his powerful grasp.

"What in all the hells is wrong?" Arcturus growled, his fist pounding futilely against the dragon's forepaw. "That sting!"

"I intend for it to hurt." Veledar replied with venom, relishing the sight of Arcturus' widened eyes as the realization of their dire situation sank in.

“Veledar…you’re hurting me.”

How the dragon had dreamed of this moment for years, envisioning the day he would confront his brother's and mother's killers, making them suffer as his loved ones had suffered. Days were spent imagining the perfect retribution, plotting the torment he would inflict upon them, ensuring they would understand the magnitude of their crimes before he brought their lives to an end. Time had done the job for him it seemed, leaving Arcturus to him. "Do you know what I found, Arcturus Lund, slayer of dragons?"

"I don't know what you've found, let me go!" Arcturus' voice was firm, his eyes pleading for reason, "Veledar, focus on my voice, cast off whatever enchantment has you."

"No enchantment has me." Veledar laughed with a terrible growl, his tail swishing in amusement. "I'm seeing clearly for the first time since we've met, past the lies, the façade, seeing the wretched filth that rests below my paws." He pressed down, a cruel delight shining in his eyes as Arcturus gasped, red-faced, clutching his paw. "How does it feel, to be helpless, afraid, just as your family left them?"

"Veledar!" Arcturus's voice thundered, matching the dragon's fury. "Don't be an idiot. You know my family's history with dragons. What could possibly have made you act like this?"

“I found your trophy room, the butchered corpses of my kin." Veledar growled, his wings flaring in anger. "The countless souls you've destroyed, loved ones left in ruin. I found her, my mother, indomitable aegis."

"What are you talking about, she isn't here!"

"Liar!" Veledar roared inches from Arcturus's face, pressing so hard that he drew blood.

“Grah…” Arcturus squirmed, unable to break free. “Gods damn it, dragon… can’t we talk about this? There has been a misunderstanding-”

“I tire of your talk, always spinning your deceitful webs.” Veledar growled, his voice tinged with bitterness. “You wormed your way into my heart, clouded my judgment with false affection.” The dragon turned away, hiding the hint of sorrow that clouded his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of your cursed lineage… A curse upon my life from the earliest days of my hatching.”

"What are you saying?! I do care! Are you mad?" grimaced Arcturus, blood welling on the edge of his lips. "I haven't uttered a single falsehood to you, Veledar. I love you with all my heart… even now-"

“Nonsense." Veledar replied with a growl, his eyes flashing with fury. "Thanks to you, my quest has failed, my family lies dead and lost to the past. You lured me into the city, led me to your undead friend, and even abandoned me to him in the end-"

“Veledar, bloody think!” Fists met the dragon’s scales, legs kicked futilely at the dirt. “I know you’re smarter than this, cleverer. Stop being so dense. If I was trying to trick you, why would I have freed you? Why would I love you?” His eyes hardened. “Was all that we said to each other meaningless? Is this how you treat your Umraadi?”

“I said that before I knew the truth.” Veledar lashed his tail, words dripping with venom. “If I had known your origins, such filth would never have been uttered by this tongue.”

Arcturus coughed as the dragon pressed down again, blood staining his tunic. “Veledar.” he rasped; eyes wide with desperation. “I never hurt your mother-”

“I saw it!” Veledar snarled, relenting slightly in his pressure. “You, standing there, proud as a peach, embracing your father. The perfect image of your vile legacy.”

“That picture?” Recognition sparked in Arcturus' gaze. “Veledar, I can explain that. It’s not what you think!”

“Trying to save yourself now, are you? When the consequences of your family’s deeds come bearing down on your chest, you beg of me now? Did the others not beg? Did they not deserve mercy?”

“Gods damn it, Veledar, have I not earned a talk?" Arcturus snarled, clutching the dragon’s paw with the last of his strength. "After all we've been through, the nights we've shared, gods above, Veledar, I shared my bed and myself with you. Do you really think that was all a trap?"

Honestly was upon his lips, shared through the bond. He paused, torn between instinct screaming at him to act and reason urging caution. How could he turn away now, after decades of waiting for revenge? What if it was all another trap, designed to ensnare him once more? Though what if he was wrong, that he was making a terrible mistake?

"Enough, paws off the human." Merlia growled, as she leveled her bow. "I don't know what lover's quarrel you have going, but this one goes in your eye."

“You think a mere bow scares me?” Veledar snorted in amusement, “My quarrel is with this dragon slaying whelp, not you.”

“Don’t really care Veledar, last chance.” Her eyes were as sharp as her arrowhead, “Or ya going ta be blind.”

The dragon hesitated, meeting the gaze of the fiery-haired lass he had come to call friend. Her stare held the weight of ancient judgments, those tales of monstrous beasts and their reckoning. He eased the pressure on Arcturus, casting a fierce glare at the bloodied figure of the man he had grown to cherish. Guilt gnawed at him — he had caused this suffering, wished for his demise. Memories flooded back, nights spent intertwined, sharing their vulnerabilities, finding solace in each other's presence. How could those moments have been mere pretense? Tremors of uncertainty gripped him; he didn’t know what to believe. “Arcturus, I don’t…I don’t.”

“In Bahamut’s name, unhand me!” Arcturus bellowed, his eyes shimmering a brilliant white before plunging a dagger into the dragon’s paw.

Pain exploded like lightning through Veledar’s flesh, searing from his forepaw into the depths of his being. He recoiled with a terrible hiss, his vision blurring into a chaotic swirl. Stumbling backward, he flailed, his paws striking something softer than the stone and wood he expected. The impact sent a shock through him as if he had struck himself. It had been Arcturus.

“Arcturus!” Merlia shouted, the sound of her boots racing caught his ear.

What had he done? All his senses were a tattered mess, the dragon desperately blinking and flicking his tail, trying to bring any semblance of vision. When the scene finally took shape, he wished it had not.

Arcturus lay crumpled on the ground, clutching tightly to Merlia, his gut coated utterly in his own blood. The knight’s body twitched, crimson rivers running down his arms to pool on the earth below. Strength seemed to have left him entirely as he sagged in the ranger’s grasp, barely able to keep his focus on the dragon who had inflicted this grievous wound.

Veledar's heart twisted in agony, the bond between them now throbbed with shared suffering and desperate confusion. Arcturus, his face pale and lips bloodied, was mouthing something, but no sound emerged.

Merlia, her expression fierce and protective, pressed a finger to Arcturus’ lips, silencing him gently. The fire-haired dwarf’s eyes were a storm of emotion, a mix of anger, fear, and an unyielding determination. She held the knight with one arm, bow all but forgotten upon the ground.

“Alright, don’t look, I’ll have ya patched up in no time.” Merlia's voice trembled as she cupped a hand to her lips, “Asterion! Ya furry horned bastard, ya best be stampedin' in this direction, Arcturus needs ya!”

This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? The vengeance that had fueled his outburst above, the righteous fury that had sustained him through the years. Yet now, looking upon Arcturus' wounded form, there was no joy, no satisfaction. The victory he had once imagined was hollow, a bitter mockery of the justice he had sought.

He stood there, trembling, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions. The sight of Arcturus, pale and bloodied, tore at him in ways he had never anticipated. This was who he was, wasn’t it? The dragon who gave in to his rage and harmed his Umraadi. The bond that had once been their strength now felt like a chain, tightening around his heart with every breath.

Veledar didn’t dare move as Merlia chanted her spells, her voice a desperate litany of healing incantations. Viridian ribbons of magic gathered and coiled around Arcturus’ form, their soft glow a stark contrast to the violence that had erupted moments before. The dwarf’s hands moved with practiced urgency, her brow furrowed and grim.

“You’ll need more, but you’re not dying here, not on ole Merlia.” She laughed, tears in her eyes.

“Is he- “Veledar managed to ask.

“Oh, so now ya care?” Merlia shot back, her eyes an inferno. “Look what you did!” She gestured to Arcturus’ tattered and blood-soaked tunic, “Any deeper and Thor himself couldn’t have saved him.”

Veledar’s tail flicked involuntarily, causing Merlia to flinch. Though her words were as they usually were, it was tainted by a cloud of fear within the air. The dragon’s heart trembled as he gazed upon the culmination of his actions. In one fell swoop, he had crushed his friendships beneath his paw.

An apology hovered on his lips, but it died before it could be spoken. As he looked at Arcturus’ prone form, he saw not just the man he yearned for but the ghosts of his family, hovering specters over the knight. He would always be a reminder of what his family had done.

How could he ever forgive them? How could he forgive the Lunds?

Veledar held his head high, a mournful sigh escaping his lips. This, he supposed, was how it was meant to be. He turned his gaze to Arcturus, his eyes as cold and unyielding as ice. "Arcturus, I despise your family with every fiber of my being. I wish them snuffed out, utterly erased from this world… but you…you give me pause." His claws dug into the earth, betraying his inner turmoil. "I can’t even look at you without remembering what your family did to mine."

He averted his gaze, feeling as though knives were stabbing into his heart. "I cannot kill you… but I cannot bear to look upon you, knowing the blood of my family's killers flows in your veins."

Flaring his wings, he heaved a great sigh, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He could feel the bond between them, strained and frayed, a tether threatening to break.

"Farewell." he whispered, his voice breaking.

He didn’t linger for Merlia’s call to Asterion, opting instead to lose himself in the skies. His leathery wings beat against the air with force, carrying him higher and higher. As he ascended, he allowed the wind to sweep around him, trying to numb the ache in his soul with its cold embrace. Spiraling through the currents, he plotted his course, but before departing completely, he cast one final glance back at the path he had flown.

A faint whisper tugged at his senses, a fleeting call beckoning him to return. Yet deep down, he knew he could not go back. How could he face the descendant of his family’s killer every day, without seething with rage? With a determined toss of his head and another powerful stroke of his wings, he left that chapter of his life behind, disappearing into the expanse of the sky._ _

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