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With the refugee's arrival all the brightness from the festivities had disappeared. Men mourned over lost loved ones while others simply felt sorrow for the innocent lives lost, lives they should have protected but were unable to. The somber mood could not even be brightened by the few happy faces of those whose loved ones managed to escape and where amongst the refugees. When reality set in for everyone and the room in the storage rooms were found, many began to question if they should not move out immediately before the enemy would inevitably arrive at their doorstep. Any other day Henry would have been on their side and so would be the grandmaster, Henry thought. However, there was no more time for that. The enemy was too close and there was no way of knowing how many there were.

The bits of information they were able to get out of the few survivors was not much more than what Elise had already told them. What was new, Grandmaster Maldwyn announced the following day at dinner. One of the survivors had seen the enemy general with her own eyes as she was hiding before getting away. Turned out, it was Halvard Dragonsbane, king Ulric's brother and also the high command of all his armies. Only the most capable was send to take down the order, it seemed. Upon hearing that news the whole hall erupted into wild discussion.

William tugged on his father's sleeve as the discussion broke out and leaned in to ask him a question. “Who is this Halvard, father? And why is he called Dragonsbane?"

Henry just sighed as he turned his gaze to his son then at Elise who grimaced at him but nodded. No need to hide such things form him. “He is the brother of Ulric, the-“

“The king of the invaders, I know!" Will interrupted out of nowhere as he proudly presented his vast knowledge of the current affairs to his father.

“Correct, so Halvard is their king's brother, thus granting him high influence and power. On top of that he is also a feared warrior and from what I heard a great strategist. It was him who led the battle at… Dimbarrow."

When he briefly stopped, William's expression turned from curiosity to regret really fast. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to remind you of that battle..." That made Henry smile if only a little. So young and already such insight.

“It's fine Will, it's fine." Around them the hall quieted down a little so he did too. “Halvard is called Dragonsbane because it is said he once killed a dragon in single combat with only a great axe drenched in a poison called, well, Dragonsbane. At least that is the name we gave it."

“A dragon killed all on his own?" The young boy looked at Henry with narrowed eyes, head tilted slightly. “That's… impossible though, right?"

“Hehe, I believe so too. Still, a rumor became a fact and that became his moniker. Whatever the case…" He sighed, looking into his half empty glass of wine and drained it in his mouth. “He is a cruel bastard, just like his brother, only leaving death and destruction in their way." The moment he said that he caught Elise's glance, who looked at him with a scowl as she shook her head.

“But… we're safe here right? You said that Dragonstone castle is unconquerable, so we're safe right?" His son spoke with fear now clear in his voice. He shouldn't have said so much, he realized, as with every passing second Will began to look more and more frightened. “We-we have dragons here though! They'll never get to us!" He tried to convince himself, his voice getting louder. Before he could truly begin to panic Henry took him in his arms just as Elise was about to do the same. This was his mess, so he should make it better. When he hugged him he gently stroked his back, shifting his chair a little closer to get a better hold. Once he did Will hugged him back, sniffling quietly. Gareth glanced over to him when he looked up but Henry just forced a smile and looked down at William again.

“It's fine Will, these walls have stood for many centuries. What good can a couple of men do against these walls, us and dragons, huh?" He paused briefly, waiting for a possible response from Will, but none came. “They can't get to us, William." He said, confident as he broke the hug to look into his son's eyes. He saw uncertainty and worry in his eyes, shimmering a slightly brighter gold than his own. While simply staring at one another in silence, he remembered something that might just help his son, making him smile a little. “Alright Will, come with me."

“Hmm?" He just murmured in confusion as Henry got up, following along with his father despite his confusion. “What for? And where?"

“That's a surprise, son." He answered, holding a hand on his shoulder to guide him through the narrow way between the long tables. Elise gave him a weird look which he just responded by mouthing the words 'trust me' with a smile. It was enough to make her shake her head and smile herself. They reached their room without exchanging more words, despite William being insisted to know where they were going. Once they came to their room Will looked a bit worried, as if he had done something wrong and was about to be punished for it in private.

“Don't worry Will, I have a gift for you." He brightened up a little at the word gift, his eyes growing wider as Henry opened the door and took William inside. Will set down on Henry's bed and watched as his father opened the upper most drawer of his bed's side table. He didn't have to look long for it for it was always there where he could easily find it. An old necklace that belonged to his father, a gift given to him by his friends in Avilion, now belonging to Henry. It was a silver dragon about half the size of his palm, it's wings outstretched and neck curled into an S. It looked like the black dragon on their Families' crest, which made it such a fitting gift. The eye was a small inlaid gem, glowing golden. Very fitting for his family too. As he took up the necklace by its silver chain Will's gaze was drawn to it right away, mouth slightly agape at the stunningly detailed dragon. “This, William, is for you." He said as he knelt down in front of him and pressed the medallion into his son's hand, closing it shut. “It belonged to your grandfather, and now it belongs to you. You could say this bears our families' legacy on it, which you are now part of."

William slowly put the necklace around his neck, the medallion hanging all the way down to his lower chest. Still, he seemed to be loving it. “While you have this on you, I'll always be by your side, just as I have always been at heart." Will just stared at him with an unreadable expression, even when he grasped both his shoulders. “So now trust me when I tell you: No one will lay hands on you in here. We are safe. I promise that- “Just when he was about finish his sentence he was cut off when his son suddenly threw his arms around him in a tight hug, a hug he happily returned.

“I love you, father." He said, muffled by Henry's chest.

He couldn't help but smile. “I love you too, son."

He stayed inside their quarters with his son for the remainder of the day. Later Elise came to join them and found Henry reading to Will from an old favorite tale of his called “Eadun the wise" which was a collection of stories from the long life of king Eadun of Albia dated 500 years back. As she came in he paused only briefly, before continuing once she had sat down next to him. Together they spent the night not just comforting William and rather comforting all one another.

The next day started out sweet when they all awoke in one bed together, huddled around their son. They all broke their fast soon after in the great hall. The mood was overall still somber even if some here and there could be heard laughing or joking with each other. It would only be a matter of time until the enemy would be at their gates, everyone knew it. After breakfast Henry took his son along to the training. The boy insisted that his training should continue here so he could help in the battle. After all, he has been trained by his lord grandfather's master-at-arms Lewyn since he was six. Henry had said no partaking in battles whatsoever at his age, but train they could all the same. Only wooden swords though, to William's disappointment.

The young lad was a mystery sometimes, even to Henry. There were times he seemed so afraid and scared of little things and other times he would boldly declare that he would join the oncoming battle. Sometimes Henry wondered whether he should have been there more often to help raise him. There was the order though, which had become his home while his wife and son stayed at Morgraig castle.

Luckily no queer incidents happened that day and all resumed as it would any other day. The same could be said about the next day and the day after. The overall mood in the castle did not improve much. It felt like with each passing day doom was getting closer. Especially when on the fourth day after the refugees had arrived outriders could be seen along the road. They were scouts for the oncoming army, making sure they could approach safely. Not much longer, it was clear. That evening dinner had never seemed so quite.

The next day the castle was awoken early, knights and men-at-arms alike, to peer beyond their walls. Henry was one of the first on the battlements, wearing only a dark blue arming doublet he threw on above his nightgown and some simple brown pants and black boots. Beyond the walls and the cliff isolating the castle to its own rock next to the hilly plains where the enemy now loomed. Where the view was once clear and one could see the green grass there were now tents and many more being raised. It appeared they arrived earlier that day, slightly past midnight and started making camp. Soon they would have their siege camp ready, build stakes around it and dig ditches. Or maybe they wouldn't even bother. What army did they still have that could come to lift the siege? Who knows, perhaps the nobles in the west have managed to raise some levies to try and meet the foe once more despite everything. Even if that was the case, some peasants plucked from the field with a spear and shield would not be enough to beat this host. Henry did not count them, but if he would have to guess there were 20.000 men in that camp if not more.

Dragonstone castle held about 3.000 men at present, as well as 9 dragons. The castle was large and so were their food stocks. They could hold out a siege for a year or far more if the dragons foraged for them. Inside the camp he could already see their dreaded scorpions though, with a design of high precision unlike anything they had faced before. When they went out to hunt at night, perhaps then. Somehow though, he thought that all that would not be needed. In his mind he thinks they will want to attack and not just starve them out slowly. How, he did not know. The castle's drawbridge was the only way in and even if they managed to find a way to lower it or to build some kind of makeshift bridge of their own, there would then be the gate and the portcullis. And even if they got through there was still the inner wall with a second gate. Still, Henry had a feeling.

The tension was high in the air as his squire helped him into his armor a bit later. The grandmaster had ordered the highest ranking knights to be battle ready, same for the dragons, in case an opportunity presented itself to raid their siege camp. Henry looked at the squire as he was securing the pauldrons of his armor to his arming doublet. A boy of 13 named Marc Arasgain, a boy from a minor noble family in the service of Henry's own family. So young, and yet soon he would likely lie dead.

It was early afternoon when the gate guards reported riders approaching. Henry went up to the battlements alongside his brothers, the knights of the inner circle. He knew all their names, all their stories. Sir Cormag Catan who was from the highlands and able to speak draconic as dragons could. Sir Owen Donnal, an elderly knight from Dalmore. Sir Bevan Lace, from Craig castle on the eastern shore. Sir Merfyn Lewyn and Sir Darren Lewyn, brothers from a noble house in the south with too many sons. Emrys Bowen, a young man near Henry's own age. Sir Glinn Elice, from the Dragontooth isle of the eastern Coast. Lastly, there was Sir Gareth MacMaldwyn, from a noble house from the highlands, house so old and traditional that they had no surname. His father was standing right next to him, glaring down with a grim visage at the oncoming riders. They were all in armor and all ready to die.

Today would not be the day they would die however. They would not storm the castle right away, that much was clear. Henry leaned over to Sir Cormag and said. “How do you think they'll try to persuade us to surrender our castle to them?"

The middle aged knight chuckled and glanced at Henry. “Probably by a royal pardon from 'his majesty king Ulric'." He spat at the name. “Most likely thinks we'll jump at the notion of trading our lives for our honor." He then inclined his head towards the riders. “You see the big fella riding ahead of the others?"

“Aye, I do." Henry answered, wondering what he was getting at.

“Don't you see those dragon scales he is wearing proudly over his shoulder like a bloody bearskin? Their general comes himself to grace us with his presence." He grumbled at the sight. There was no living man Henry knew that admired dragons as much as Cormag. Thus, he despised dragon slayers all the more. “That is Halvard Dragonsbane, mark my words. The moment he takes of that helmet you'll see those venomous eyes of his."

Henry turned his head towards the riders. Now that they were getting closer he could see their leader more clearly. Indeed, he was wearing dragon scales over his shoulders like a cape, the larger scales looking like pauldrons, making him look even broader and bigger than he already was. The armor he wore looked expensive, expertly crafted full plate armor, with Nordic runes embodied on the breastplate. Not a dent or scratch was on there from what he could tell. It must have been brand new. The riders stopped before the cliff side, the first rider stopping at the very edge only. Truly, the rock Dragonstone Castle was built on was the best defense it had.

For a moment there was just the sound of the wind whistling through the battlements. Their leader was looking the castle up and down, ending his inspection with his eyes set on the grandmaster. That was when he removed his helmet and Cormag was proven right. Next to him Henry could hear him spit down the battlements.

Halvard 'Dragonsbane', younger brother to their king Ulric stood there on his large warhorse. One would think if the cliff wasn't there or the drawbridge was down he would've run right up to the gate itself by how close he stood to the edge. His hair was long and braided, the color of fire, running down his back. The beard he had grown was cropped a little shorter but was still long enough to reach his chest. Pearls adorned it, sticking out clear in the red beard. “Greetings Albiens!" He called out. A heavy accent was in his voice, but he was understandable. “We looked for you in the capital. I told my brother I would bring him another dragon head just in time for his coronation on the throne of your old king."

Henry tensed, and so did everyone else. He glanced behind himself briefly to see the dragons standing in the courtyard all assembled alongside some men-at-arms and lower knights who come to hear what was happening. The eldest of the dragons, Vrulgathnir, decided it was time to go face to face with their enemy as well and spread his wings to get on the wall. It was said that all dragons were to remain out of sight, since they could not rightly know who would be leading the enemy host. Now that it was clear that it was Halvard, the danger for any dragon in sight was ever present, for it was known that while he showed honor when fighting men, he showed little of that against dragons.

Still, Vrul sat on the battlements as the men made room for him, settling down next to his companion, the grandmaster. “You can well try to take my head!" Vrul said in a loud booming voice that no doubt carried over even to the enemy's camp. “Had we not been betrayed by one of our own, Caer Brenin would have never fallen!"

“Actually!" Halvard chimed in, a grin on his face that made Henry want to strangle him even more. “It is called Könugarðr now! Felt a lot more fitting!"

“Pah!" Grandmaster Maldwyn leaned over the battlements, yelling back at him. “The city won't be called that even if you tear down all our monuments! The people make that city ours!"

“What people?" Halvard shot back right away. “Last I left the city there was only our own left. Your people, my dear friend, have all either fled east, or died at our axes!"

“Have you come to ask us to surrender or do you just deem it funny to make us angry?" Maldwyn yelled, clearly trying to conceal some of his anger. That would just make Halvard all the happier. “We are not surrendering this castle even if you have five armies sitting there in front of our gates! Now, turn your horse around and stick your words up your arse! Before get our archers and stick something else in it!"

Halvard's cheeky grin had all but vanished. He was glaring at Maldwyn with deep rage. It seemed he was easy to make angry with insults, Henry had to remember that. “You will all die screaming!" He said at last after a moment of silence and then reared his horse around to return to his siege camp. The others followed.

The grandmaster and his son Gareth remained, as well as Vrulgathnir, while the others left, discussing what just happened in angry tones. Henry couldn't say he was any less angry. The capital, the very heart of Albia, renamed in the image of the invaders. It was as if they were spitting on their culture, traditions and history all at once. He watched Gareth and his father talk for a time before leaving the battlements himself, his fists curled in anger. Down in the courtyard voices rang out from men and dragons alike, all talking about one topic alone: Their last battle.

Everyone knew it. No relief force would come for there was no coherent army left that they knew of. They would be besieged and sooner or later they would find their end in that castle. True, they may last years with their provisions and with what the dragons could smuggle in but was to say how long it would be until stones rain down from the sky, hurled by enemy trebuchets and catapults. Henry knew it as well. Which was precisely why he needed to speak to Cyrvanyx.

He found the dragon sitting on his haunches in the back of the outer courtyard, talking to William and Elise. It made Henry smile despite it all. He joined them and his wife greeted them with a smile as she held her son in hug. “Your father is here, Will." She said softly. Will turned his head towards his father, fear shone in his eyes.

“They all say that… that they are here. Is it true? Did you see them?" Will asked, his voice slow and measured. He seemed to try and control his emotions to his best capabilities. The look Elise gave him suggested that she had the same question in mind as their son.

“Yes, they are." Henry said, hiding his own fear. “But as I said before, we are safe here." He gently took hold of the medallion hanging from Will's neck. “For we are the dragonhearted." He whispered, smiling down at his son.

William smiled in return, the fear that shone being overwhelmed by defiance now. “For we are the dragonhearted." He repeated.

Henry let go of the medallion and patted his son on the shoulder, but turned his gaze to Cyr. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Cyr? In private, away from the others?"

“Ehm…" He scratched his neck with a wing joint. He does that so often when he is nervous, clearly he knew Henry didn't just want to have a friendly chat. “Sure. We'll talk inside."

He left his wife and son on their own for the time being, kissing Elise on the cheek before following Cyrvanyx into the keep. The entrance hall looked so vast and empty while everyone else was outside. The only man visible was a guardsman on duty guarding the quarters in which the refugees were staying. Better safe than sorry, as the grandmaster had put it when he gave the assignment to a men-at-arms of the order.

Cyr settled down in the hall, only briefly glancing at the guard at the other end of the hall. “Henry do you want somewhere where we are-“

“No, it is fine. Let him overhear." Henry crossed his arms, steel clanking against steel as he did so. “I just need to talk to you…" He paused, trying to think of what best to start with. Cyr watched him with a tilted head, his frills slightly flared. A curious expression, Henry knew. Then at last he found his words. “I see you haven't approached Arylaryl yet."

The dragon visibly deflated on the spot, spines drooping and wings sagging. “I…" He started, but the sighed, lowering his head. “I know. I wanted to but-“

“Cyrvanyx." Henry rarely addressed him by his full name and that got him to stop what he was about to use as justification before he could spill it from his tongue. “Do you have to take to the sky and look at the army besieging us before you realize they are there?" Cyr's head lowered further and he glanced to the side in shame. “I said it before and I'll say it again: This might very well be your last chance!" He took a step forward and put a hand on his muzzle. He still couldn't meet his gaze. “So take it!"

“I don't know how!" He almost roared back. His voice reverberated through the hall and Henry took a step back again, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “I never have... grr…" He growled in frustration as his claws unsheathed.

“I know, my friend. I know." This time he didn't laugh it up though and instead went to take the dragon's chin in his hand and softly guide him to look into his eyes, to which he complied without resisting. “I can help you with that though." He smiled and glanced upwards. “Next time the night sky is clear and reveals the stars, go to the top of the keep and sit there. If she isn't there already she will be there any moment and you will meet, in a very natural way. Then you simply start a conversation, something about the stars perhaps."

Cyr narrowed his eyes slightly. “How do you know she'd be there?"

“She loved watching the stars, Gareth told me so. And they know each other very well so I trust his word." Henry let go off his chin. “Just keep that in mind, ok? Go up there and talk. I am not asking you to climb on her back right away."

“Henry!" Cyr growled out, his frills reddening around the edges as he glanced towards the guard.

“Oh don't mind me!" The man called to them, the grin clearly visible even from afar.

Cyr sighed and got up from the ground. “Wait." Henry said before he could leave. “There is… one more thing I have to ask of you." He said in a hushed tone so the guard would not hear. “Something very important to me so please keep your voice down."

The dragon looked at him for a moment before laying down on his stomach, his head on eyelevel to Henry. “I am all ears."

Henry sighed and mentally crossed his fingers. “You know that… and I know that we are all likely to die in this castle." He could see Cyr's expression darken. He did not like where this was going and Henry could not blame him. “I am ready to die in this place and I know so are you. You are the most honor and duty obsessed dragon I ever met." He allowed himself a little chuckle. “But… my wife… my son… they should not die in place, cannot die in this place, do you understand?" Cyr opened his muzzle to respond but Henry was faster. “Elise is the love of my life, Cyr! We never married for love but found it anyway. And my son he's… he is not just the sole heir to my house, he is also my only child. I…" His voice cracked and he suddenly felt himself overwhelmed by the image of his wife and son dying in a brutal battle. “I cannot bear to imagine it. So… I beg you, my friend." He put his hand on Cyr's nose and looked deep into his eyes. They were unreadable in that moment, but perhaps that was also due to his blurred vision as tears formed in Henry's eyes.

“I beg you, please, when the time comes, take them both and bring them somewhere safe. The highlands would be safest place during this war, that would be the best place but… as long as they're safe I care not when." He stopped only briefly to catch his breath. “If they die here it will be on my hands, do you understand? I gave consent to their journey here in the middle of the war because I was just afraid I would never have the chance to see them again otherwise. And now that… that may have been their doom." A single tear rolled down his cheek. He saw Cyr get up into a sitting position through his teary eyes and felt a paw softly press at his back. He didn't feel the touch itself due to the armor, but he knew he was there. “So… please. I know this could make you seem like a coward in the eyes of the others, fleeing the battlefield like that, but… I don't know who else to ask. I…"

That was when Cyr just pulled Henry in for a hug. Both his forearms lay around the crying knight, holding him to his chestplates. “I swear Henry, that they will be safe. No matter the stain on my honor it may carry, I will bring them to safety." Henry felt more tears rolling down his cheeks, the guard watching them all but forgotten, as Henry hugged the dragon back as best he could.

“Thank you." He whispered as they held each other in a comforting embrace.

For a while, they remained just like that, finding solace in each other's embrace from the dreadful thoughts flowing through their minds. Henry could not know for certain the things Cyrvanyx feared, but he saw it in his eyes when he talked about Ary. He fears to lose her without ever truly being with her.

When at last they separated again they went back into the courtyard to the others. The rest of the day Henry spend with his son. He picked up the sword fighting lessons where they were left off and later in the day he read with him. At his age he could well read on his own, but he simply stories together more so than alone. Elise joined them as they were on an especially exciting passage a mysterious dragon had saved the heroes life. William demanded she listen to the story as well and she complied. He insisted that the next day they should spend together the whole time. The tone in his voice made Henry realize that he wanted to spend more time with his parents because despite all he's been told; he was afraid to lose them both. That realization almost made him tear him as he was reading, but he managed to remain strong. For his son and for his wife, he would remain strong.

---

Cyrvanyx sat on his haunches at the edge of the inner courtyard. Henry and his son trained nearby with sword and shield this time while his mother sat nearby and watched. William kept complaining that the shield was too heavy and Henry kept saying to lift it higher. It made Cyr chuckle as he watched. It was late in the day; the sun had begun to set in the horizon. For most of the castle inhabitants it meant the end of the day's drill. Some, like Henry and his son, kept going a while longer. Arylaryl was among the few who remained outside for a while. Cyr watched her as she flying above the castle. As always, she looked stunningly beautiful.

Green scales mostly covered her body, but parts of blue shone in here and there. Blue stripes were drawn across her back in uneven lines and the edges of her wing membranes had a blue tint to them. Her frills were also blue, giving the most contrast to her mostly green coloration. All the green came from her father, Cyr knew, and the blue from her mother. All the green she had from him but her eyes, those mesmerizing silver eyes, those were from her mother. The armor only added to her beauty, he thought, the silver steel plates on her neck, chest, limps and belly giving such a nice contrast to her scales. Same went for the mail mesh that covered parts of her that had to be more mobile, above the padding she wore underneath. A few smaller plates were also sewn into the mesh, especially underneath the tail. Important armor part for both male and females. He did not want to stare and seem a pervert again as he had before, but sometimes he just couldn't stop admiring her. With a deep breath he did force his gaze back to Henry however. Tonight would be the night. It had to be. The sky was clear of clouds, unlike the night before. The stars would be at full display. Cyr felt more nervous than before a battle, but he knew he had to do this.

Memories coursed through his mind of times of his early youth, long before he joined the order, where he and Ary were mere friends, before he felt nothing more towards her than friendship. Often times she would watch the skies at night back then, in the clan, and more often than not he would be there as well, watching from a distance. Sometimes she asked him to join her, but he always declined until she stopped asking him. Slowly but surely, they drifted apart, and day after he day he would tell himself tomorrow, yes, tomorrow is my chance, that is when I talk to her. And now…

It might be your last chance

Those words were what made him determined to follow through. He knew he should have done so long ago. That time it felt different though. With an army right in front of their gates everything changed. Time was running short. The Grandmaster had remarked that they were building no siege equipment yet, except for a ram. It seemed really odd, to Cyr as well. They did have their ballistae with them however so one had to be careful when flying. It did feel taunting to fly closer, as if daring them to try and hit them. One had tried the day before and was almost hit by a bolt. They were more careful after that. If they were to die they should do so in the oncoming fight, not through such foolishness, Cyr thought. Then again, he knew he can't die. He had another mission, a very personal one. The more he thought about it, the more it pained him. It would mean abandoning the order in their last stand, be it in victory or defeat. It would mean laying aside years of dedication. It would mean leaving Ary to die while he fled…

He chocked those thoughts up and gently shook his head, trying to focus on the clang sounds of the sparring fight before him. “How often do I have to say it, son? Higher!" The struggle of the young boy was evident as he lifted up the heavy oaken kite shield. Henry slashed at him again and this time Will managed to keep his shield up further as he stabbed at his father, who swiftly glanced the wooden blade aside with his own. Still, he smiled at his son. “Better. Keep practicing and you'll make a fine knight one day."

William was panting, but smiled at his father nonetheless. “Will I get to ride a dragon too?" He asked, beaming at his father.

Cyr saw Henry throwing him a dark, sad look. He couldn't meet Henry's gaze for long and sighed. “Perhaps you will." Cyr said and Henry gave his son a reassuring smile and a nod. Knowing what was really going on in Henry's mind, the sight made Cyr only sad. Suddenly he had the urge to be alone for a moment. Perhaps that was for the best, to prepare himself mentally in his quarters before he talked to Ary. “If you'll excuse me, Henry," He inclined his head towards his wife. “Lady Elise. I shall like some time alone in my quarters for now."

“Aye, of course." Henry said with a smile, patting him on the side as he walked by. He was standing in front of the great door that marked the entrance into the keep. One brief glance at Ary was enough to bring a little smile to his face. “And good luck!" He heard Henry call to him as he was about to push the doors open. He looked back only briefly, but Henry wasn't looking back. He didn't have to ask what he meant though. It was rather obvious.

As soon as he entered the entrance hall a woman nearly bumped into him, recoiling with a startled scream, dropping something to the floor. Cyrvanyx blinked and withdrew his head, slightly startled himself, but not nearly as much as the blonde woman before him. One of the refugees, he knew right away. There were no other women in the castle besides Elise and those the war carried to their gates. “My apologies." He said right away as she stared at him. “I did not mean to startle you." He saw her gulp and look away, quickly picking up whatever it was she dropped. When his eyes followed her hand he found small glass bottle filled with a yellowish liquid. Strange. “You are supposed to remain inside your quarters as far as I know though." He went on. “So go back and remain there unless- “

“I have been told to help in the kitchen." She blurted out. As fast as she spoke he could swear he picked up a remnant of some kind of accent. That seemed a sufficient explanation for her so she kept going. It did seem a little off to him though, so he held his tail in front of her path.

“Wait." He spoke, low and slow. “What is in that bottle?"

“Oh? That?" She seemed nervous, afraid almost. That could just as well be the fact that she never spoke to a dragon before though. “It is Marigold extract. I was told to get some for the food." Cyr quirked his brow. He did not know the first thing about human food preparation so he didn't know whether to believe that or not. Ultimately, he decided to just let it go. These poor people have been through so much already. He didn't have to prod and scare them further just because he was being a bit paranoid.

“Apologies, once again." He said with a polite smile as he lifted his tail away. “One can never be careful enough."

That coaxed a chuckle out of her. It sounded forced and nervous. “Yes, I suppose so."

'Yes'? He thought that most people this far north in Albia said 'Aye'. He shook his head and chuckled. Now he was really getting paranoid he thought as he watched the woman disappear behind a door that led to the kitchens.

Lost in thought, he made his way to his moderate room. There were soft things to sleep on, a small window for fresh air, two bookcases filled with a large variety of tomes and a chamber pot so one didn't have to leave the castle to follow natures call. Although a human might call that thing a bucket due to its size. He snorted at the thought as he entered. His eyes wandered towards his books, but could he really focus on reading now? No, surely not. He sighed and simply resigned himself to his thoughts, easing down onto his belly, his head rested on his paws.

Right away his thought fell on Arylaryl. What else was he to think about anyway? At least it was nicer to have her on his mind than the war. He frowned. Dammit, now he was thinking about the war again. Were they truly to die in this castle, all of them? That didn't have to be the case, he thought, even if many thought so, Henry included. And yet, when it really came to it and they were losing, was he ready to die? Cyrvanyx was disheartened to know he could not find it in him to answer himself that question. Henry seemed to be, but only if Cry saved his family. It would mean he were to live as well, albeit in scorn of all those who find out about the nature of his survival. Most of all it would mean…

He sighed again as his thought returned to Ary. Maybe he could convince her to come as well, take Gareth with her while they were at it. Then what? Ask the whole inner circle to abandon the rest as they fly off with their dragon companions while they were at it? He growled at the thought. He hadn't spoken to Ary properly in years, but he knew she wouldn't just leave like that unless it was a direct order from the Grandmaster himself. That thought gave him an idea, which he brushed aside right away. No, he would not lie to her like that. He couldn't bear such a thing if they truly did escape together, knowing he made her flee with the help of a lie.

Lost in thought he glanced out the window. Already the night sky was showing and he got a glimpse of some stars shining bright in an otherwise unless darkness. Had he been lying her for so long already? He groaned as he got up, staring at the sky.

It might be your last chance

Once again, Henry's words echoed through his mind and he knew that he had to go now. It was dinner time soon, he guessed, and she watched her often enough to know that she would likely remain inside the keep afterwards and socialize. If he wanted to meet her underneath the stars, he had to do it now or never. Cyr left his room and went up the stairs. The closer he got to the outside, the louder he could hear his heart beating. Once outside the chilly air made him shiver briefly, scales clicking against each other. His gaze was lifted upwards, towards the top of the keep and the night sky. Four towers branched off from the corners of the keep that were accessible for humans only. Thus the only way for him up there were flight. He took a deep breath. “Come on you coward. You can fight fearlessly in battle so you can also approach a dragoness." He whispered to himself, and exhaled.

It took just a few wing beats to bolt himself up on the keep, landing smoothly on his hindlegs, lowering himself onto all fours once he found ground. From the siege camp it must have not even been visible, thanks to his black coloration, except maybe for the silvery plate armor that he still wore. After all, they weren't allowed to take it off for most of the day in case of an emergency. His eyes found Ary right away. Her green and blue scales really stood out amongst the grey stone that was the keep's flat roof. His breath caught in his throat when she turned her head away from the stars and looked over at him, tense at first, probably not used to someone interrupting her star gazing, but as soon as she seemed to recognize him she visibly grew eased again, and smiled even. “Greetings, Cyrvanyx. Didn't expect visitors up here to be honest." She said with a chuckle. When he didn't respond and just stared for a while, taking an uncertain step forward, she spoke up again. “Have you come to watch the stars as well?"

He met her eyes and gulped. Gods, he could lose himself in those silver pools forever. “I-I… yes, I have." He stammered uncharacteristically. Pull yourself together, you fool! He heard a voice in his head yell at him as he began to slowly advance towards her. “My mother used to watch the stars with me when I was little." He blurted out, the memory easing his tension a little. “They have always… fascinated me." It was only half-true. They fascinated him as a hatchling, but as he grew older they seemed only like sparkly dots in the sky to him, nothing more.

Ary smiled at his words nonetheless, her paw patting a spot next to where she was sitting. Nervous though he was, he accepted her invitation with a graceful bow of his head and sat down on his haunches next to her, hoping his heart didn't beat loud enough for her to hear. Her gaze returned to the stars, but her warm smile remained. “They fascinate me as well. For me, it was my father who watched the stars with me and told me of the old legends. He said for as long as there are stars shining in the sky our ancestors would be watching over me. Over us." She held out a paw towards the heavens, as if reaching out to her dead predecessors and hoping for an answer. Of course, none came.

“I know the same tales from my mother." He said with a smile, feeling some of the tension leave his muscles. A common topic for them to talk about has already broken the ice he of their initial meeting. Despite that, he still felt his heart beating fast and warmth rising to his face and his spiny frills. “Some from my father as well, though his versions were usually of a more… violent nature. You know, the very old traditions. Said that only those who live honorably and die honorably would-“

“be allowed to fly with the gods and their ancestors for eternity, yes." She glanced at him, smirking slightly. “I remember your father, Cyr. Very staunch traditionalist that one. My father was one too, sort of, but your father…" She chuckled as she looked at Cyr. “He was just like a grumpy old tatter wing all the time."

Cyr couldn't help but laugh at her comment. The tension eased only further as he did so, his wings shaking as he laughed. “Ah yes…" He said as his laughter died away. “That is my father alright. I hope you never said any such thing in his presence or he'd never let you live it down."

When she smirked back at him, all the tension was all but forgotten.

The moment of silence the shared then was pleasant rather than awkward while they turned their eyes to the stars that filled the night sky with thousands upon thousands of tiny lights. As he sat there on his haunches, watching the stars, he began to realize why Ary takes time to do so on cloudless nights like this one. It had been so long since he watched them in such a way, and doing it again, with Ary right next to him, made him see the beauty up there all over again.

So many lights in an endless darkness, who knew how far away truly. If the old legends of his clan were to be believed the brightest star one could see were one's own ancestors. Grandparents, parents, siblings and more. He smiled at the thought of his grandfather watching over him now, in these dark times. His grandmother died before he could truly remember her, but his grandfather he remembered well. He died around 40 years ago, when a mysterious plague ravaged the highlands. It was the first ever Illness that could bring down a dragon in known history, so naturally there was widespread terror and death. His grandfather was one of the last victims of the plague before the disaster ended and the no one else got Ill.

It was strange that he thought of all that in that moment. Usually he didn't think about it, but staring into the stars felt strangely calming. Like he was staring into an endless ocean of darkness with only the stars to guide his path. It evoked emotions in him that he couldn't really explain. It all just felt so peaceful, in that single moment. The war, his fear, his promise to Henry, they were all forgotten in that one, beautiful moment of tranquility. Feeling truly at peace, Cyr felt himself smile, strangely feeling tears building up in his eyes.

“There is nothing more beautiful than the star filled night sky, don't you think?" She asked softly, a similar smile to his own etched on her muzzle.

Your eyes, he wanted to say, but something in him kept him from spilling those two words out. Instead he nodded slowly, his inside screaming at him to speak up.

“You know… I always assumed you had no real interest in the stars. As we grew older, I would ask you to watch the stars with me, but you always declined so… I assumed you weren't really interested in the stars like I was." She spoke slowly and reluctantly, as if afraid of how he might respond. “So… why now? I see you staring at me sometimes and yet you never talk to me. When I smile at you, you often just looked away…" She paused to stare at him. He could not meet her gaze, instead staring at the stars, making her point all the clearer. “So, why now, after all these years, did you decide to watch the stars with me?"

“Because it might be my last chance." He blurted out before his fears could tie a knot in his tongue again. He forced himself to look at her, to look into her eyes. When he did, he felt so afraid, like he was about to drown in the breath taking silver pools that were her eyes. Despite it all, he at last managed to will himself to speak. “We may very well all die soon so… a-and Henry said you came up here to watch the stars sometimes and… it reminded me of my past mistakes." He forced a smile, although all his muscles felt tense. Her own expression was unreadable for him. Her frills were halfway raised, her ears swiveled towards him and her eyes revealed nothing. “I just…" He sighed, a sudden memory kicking in. “maybe you could tell me about the constellations that your father taught you. Promise I won't have an excuse this time."

In that moment, as he managed to look deep into her eyes, he saw happiness welling there even before she began to smile.

Whatever she might have said that he was not allowed to find out though, as a loud ringing suddenly came from the highest tower of the castle, situated in the inner courtyard. It was the bell ringing, and that could mean only one thing…

“What? They're attacking?" Ary spat out in confusion and anger, getting up from the ground to get a closer look at the gates. Cyr did the same, but was too stunned to speak, only acting out of pure instinct, following her. Standing at the edge of the keep's roof, leaning on the battlements, both dragons stared at the outer gatehouse in first confusion, then horror.

The gate was open. The drawbridge was lowered.

A few dead bodies were littered around the gatehouse. He didn't have to recognize them to know it was some of the so called refugees who betrayed them. A war cry from beyond the castle walls soon joined in with the tolling bell in a horrible mix of noise as a wave of cavalrymen streamed through the gates, running through the helpless guardsmen that were in the process of closing the gates again. It was too late by then.

They were inside the outer courtyard.

---

“How do you think he is doing?" Gareth asked as he bit into the roasted chicken leg. Who knew how much longer they could enjoy such meals under siege. “You think he even went?"

“He did." Henry responded while staring at his half empty plate. He didn't feel all that hungry. “I know he did." He allowed himself a little smile. “I am sure he is managing himself just fine."

“Whatever you say." Gareth chuckled and looked over to where the dragons were seated. “A shame that today was the day they decided to bring out the Venbrán. Ary loves that stuff." Henry followed Gareth's gaze to see two barrels being brought out to the great approval of the dragons. Venbrán was a very strong alcoholic drink from the highlands and mostly used by dragons as it is quite too strong for humans. The stores in Dragonstone hold some of it but only for very special occasions, usually.

“Aye. Strange if you ask me, Gareth. We under siege. Those should be used for special occasions only, especially now."

“Ah relax Henry." He said with a chuckle. “I am sure Vrulgathnir will keep his fellow dragons from getting too drunk."

Henry laughed at that, but looked at the dragons for a while longer. Wasn't that woman serving the drink a refugee? His suspicion must have been clearly written on his face as he felt Gareth tug on his arm. “Hey, something wrong?"

He didn't respond right away, not knowing what to say exactly. When he did he didn't take his eyes off that woman. “All the refugees were checked when they came in right? For weapons and such?"

“Ehm… yes of course…" Gareth paused and looked at the woman too. “You don't really think that one of them-“

“For all we know they could have send someone in. Someone loyal to them." Henry said, his voice strained. The grandmaster was talking to the woman as she was filling in the bowls with the drink. Judging by the look on his face it wasn't just Henry who had a bad feeling.

“Henry!" Gareth snapped at him and their gazes locked forcefully when he tore at Henry's arm. “Listen to yourself. You are being paranoid, seeing enemies everywhere now. I can see why, but just try and calm down."

“Look at your father!" Henry exclaimed through grit teeth as he tore of arms free. “Is he just being paranoid too?"

Gareth frowned and looked over, which was when Henry realized how strangely quiet the hall has become. The grandmaster was yelling and everyone was staring at him and the refugee turned servant. “I ask again, who told you to get the Venbrán? Do you have any idea how rare that stuff is outside of the northern highlands? We are under siege as well in case you hadn't noticed."

The dragon Brok spoke up with irritation clearly written across his face. “Grandmaster, please. Are we not allowed to enjoy ourselves for just a little while?" He asked before lapping at the liquid again.

“I-I was just following orders, sir grandmaster." The frightened refugee woman said, her whole body shaking.

“Whose orders?" He yelled at her. Tears were welling in her eyes. A frightened noise escaped her when he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You have claimed you were a refugee in the village too, that you came from the crownlands around Caer Brenin." He spoke loudly, so everyone could hear. It really did seem like he had the same thought as Henry. So were the two men. They were assigned to kitchen duty as well, were they not? Why aren't they here?" The woman remained quiet, simply staring at Maldwyn in utter shock. That was when a servant came running into the hall, from the kitchen by the looks of him.

“They weren't at their stations, grandmaster! I have no idea where they've gone." The man said and whispers began to spread all throughout the hall. The grandmasters booming voice silenced them all right away.

“Quiet! All of you!" He glared at the woman whose expression had softened at that point. Almost emotionless except for a deep sadness that still lingered. “What are you and your comrades planning? Where are they?"

“We…" She managed to say before chocking on her words. Tears were running down her face. “we are only doing this to protect our families…"

That was when the first dragon started coughing, violently at that.

Soon another joined in, then the next. The entire hall stared at the display in horror as Brok was the first to cough up blood and stumble. “Brok!" Bevan Lace cried out for his dear friend as all Henry and everyone else could do was watch. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that was. It was poison.

Panic erupted and yet somehow the grandmaster managed to keep everything under control. Henry just stood there staring as every dragon in the hall, except for Vrulgathnir, were slowly dying. Blood was coming out of their nose, mouth, even their eyes. Many men came to hold them, to help them somehow. He saw Sir Bevan hold Brok's head as he lay on the ground, shaking, gasping for air. Henry however just stared, for what could he do to help them. Instead he grabbed Gareth by the arm as he tried to go over to them.

“We have to go find the other two. They could be anywhere!" He said and Gareth stared back at him, wide eyes, but nodded. “Come on men of the dragon order, let's find them, hurry!" He called out towards the nearby knights and men-at-arms. Some of them followed as they began to hurry towards the exit while trying to blend out the dreadful sound of several dragons chocking to death. It was a good thing the grandmaster had decreed for them to only take off all their armor when sleeping. They all still wore their arming doublets and breastplates. He was also glad that his son and wife were in his room safe and sound, and didn't have to witness that horrific display.

Just as they reached the doors the bells started ringing. They were too late.

“Stop!" Grandmaster Maldwyn yelled out for Henry and his few followers, as well as the rest of the hall. “Everyone, arm up and meet here after! You two right there!" He pointed at two knights who were willing to come with Henry. “Close the inner gate right now if the guards didn't already! Run!" They did. Never before has Henry heard the Grandmaster be afraid, but this time even the resolve of the mighty Maldwyn seemed shaken for but a moment. That just gave Henry all the more reason to be scared himself.

Everyone moved all over the place, doing their best to move to the armory as quickly as possible. Outside dragons could be heard roaring, more than just Vrul who had gone out with the two knights. That meant Ary and Cyr have already joined in the defense alongside the guards who were posted on the walls, which were not many. All the more reason to arm up quickly. His squire Marc was at his side as he stood in the armory close to all his brothers-in-arms. All that could be heard of the clanking of steel and the heavy breathing of men mentally preparing themselves for a battle. No one spoke much. Tension was at an all-time high. When Marc had gotten the last strap on his pauldrons done and gave Henry his helmet he looked the boy in the eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy was armored too, armed with a mace and a kite shield with the symbol of his family, a brown field with a golden wyvern holding an axe. That young boy would go into battle with them. It reminded him of his son, what he would become in a few years. “You are a good lad, Marc." The boy just beamed up at him, fear shining in his eyes, but also defiance. “When this is over, I'll make sure to give you an honorary place amongst my uncle's household." Despite it all, that made him smile. Although probably even the boy knew that those were empty words. When this was over, they'll likely all be dead.

The grand hall was soon again filled with knights, squires and men at arms. Some of the servants had pulled cloth over the dead bodies of the dragons and started pouring oils over them. It made Henry smile just a little. At least the bastards outside their walls won't be able to butcher them like animals to make armor and trophies. Grandmaster Maldwyn stood on a table next to the servants. One of them handed him a torch at which point he stomped his foot on the ground to get everyone's attention. It wasn't even really needed. It was quiet anyway.

“This is not the time for long speeches, men of the dragon order. Our men need us out there! As does Vrulgathnir and Arylaryl and Cyrvanyx! Stand together, hold fast and show these craven dogs that this castle does not fall so easily!" He threw the torch on the cloth, which caught fire right away. “To avenge their deaths! Blood for blood!" He bumped his fist to his heart. Everyone followed his motion. “For we are the dragonhearted!"

The hall erupted in one loud war cry that might rival the roar of a dragon. Everyone had their weapons at the ready and Henry firmly gripped the shaft of his poleaxe. Their foes would soon see just how true their motto would be. Either they repel their attackers or they all die this day.

To avenge the dishonorable deaths of the dragons, to protect their brother in arms, they would all fight to the death.

For they were the dragonhearted.