The Dragon and the Hybrid

(5) Escape

“Fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. No fort will keep it out, no ships outrun it.”

― Sophocles

Arius

It was dark as the thunder echoed and vibrated in my chest. The rain poured in as if Aegir's wrath and rage were for me, answering my plight and welcoming me back to the country that once cast me aside even though I was in my rightful place. The bandages around my body are soaked, and I could imagine Rogan's scowl at the sight of me being this way. She's still the doctor's daughter no matter what, and she makes it evident how much she doesn't like to be in the same room as me.

Why do I think of her of moments like this? Is it because she's my fyres? Most likely, but it's easy enough to cast her aside in the far recesses of my mind, especially when there is a more pressing concern at hand. There would be a danger if I stayed any longer here. I should leave and take the chance to fly back to the capital. Find more support for my claim to the throne and then take it back.

It's been so long since I've seen my dragon form. There are moments in captivity that I fear I'd forget what I'd look like. I'm the closest to Aegir there is. My dragon is the mark of the true royalty of Dracone. White scales that glimmer and reflect my surroundings, something for survival, became an aesthetic through the years, and I've always hated that. My claws were silver and gleams when sunlight hit's it like diamonds, but now they were cut to the point that anything growing is blunt. Wings that could span two villages under it, and I've often been mistaken as a dark cloud at times, especially during storms like this. 

I find myself eager and yet nervous, fearing the change that I'd see. I definitely would've changed since there are many protocols in the dorms that were done for shifters. To make sure that even if we did shift, we'd be controllable and more comfortable to capture or kill if need be. Shaking my head, I don't want to remember those protocols when I first arrived in the Ludus. That is the line I drew myself as I jump up and down on the balls of my feet.

From the open field with the rain pouring, I stare at the horizon as I waited for the dark clouds to gather even more to camouflage me as I flew through the sky. I can't be too high where some patrols of shifters and tamers would be, and I can't be too low, or humans and Draconis would be able to spot me. A storm is a grace from Aegir, and this is just perfect.

I won't be easily spotted by the naked eye even if I fly low as I'll be camouflaged by the dark clouds. There won't be a need to go any higher than the clouds, and I would gladly brave the thunder and lightning. I'm impenetrable by them anyways.

Her alarmed, stricken face flashes before my eyes. My whole-body freezes under the cold and the unforgiving pour of the rain. I curse under my breath when I feel my own hesitation stopping me from my plan.

This is not the time for pining, I thought to myself. I shake my head again and get ready. My shift wouldn't be heard at all, and I know this would be a loud one as it's been years since I last shifted.

Without warning, I just run through the field with all my might. My legs taking in quickly the ground beneath with long strides at the large open field. My muscles ripple and stretch to the point that I hear myself screaming along with a clap of thunder. My skin stretches and pulls. My hands elongate sharpens. Bones start to ache and wane when I feel my leathery wings outstretch and flap.

Strong and sure, my wings carry me up to the sky, and my four limbs tuck close to my body to get there faster. The rush of blood throughout my body is exhilarating. I didn't even feel the pain of my shift, and I still feel strong. Nothing could be compared when I'm in this form. I know I possess the freedom and strength as I even dared to roar safely in the dark clouds.

Thunderclaps near my left wing. It grazes my scales, some sizzle, and surges, but it's merely a tickle in my system than anything serious. In fact, I find myself looking for more of the storm's power to touch me. Chasing lightning and igniting my body once more. My horns might've been cut and permanently broken; I don't care one bit.

This is who I am now. There is no looking back, and I could only go to the future of avenging myself and my family. A part of me likes that I'm grotesque and would never be those shifters that preened themselves to the point of obsession. All of that was just for show anyway, and all my enemies dragons were just that for show.

But I'm not. The idiotic half-sister and my stepmother made the mistake of not killing me that day. They should be scared and trembling in their throne of snakes. I swear with all that I have, I'd destroy them and whoever supported them to get there.

When I had enough of chasing lightning and thunder, I flew towards the north, where the capital is. My intentions are clear, and my goal is transfixed in my mind like a hound who caught the scent of blood. My claws might be blunt, but I'll hone them, and they'll be just as good—my fires. I almost forgot about that.

I stretch my jaw and spur a flame from my belly, but to my disappointment, none came. Only rainwater touched my tongue and jaws. That takes me back a little, stopping myself in midair and tried to summon my fires again. Roaring and growling, I force it out till I choked on water. Still, nothing came out.

There is no way in Dracone could I destroy that woman without my flames. Aegir and every Dracone's weapon are fire, and we ruled this country with fire. There is no royalty without fires, for they'd be a disgrace. All of our traditions are based on the fires we possess, and I knew I had mine. Mine was the hottest flame, blue like the ocean.

Was. What on Aegir's nest is happening to me? Did the masters put something in our drinks or food in the Ludus? I doubt it since there is no mention of that in the protocols. Everyone knew of them since the arena is a popular sport. Then what holy Aegir is happening to me? Why cannot I summon my hottest flame?

My fyres, I realize. Dawning on me that that could only be the reason why it's not coming out since nothing else has changed about me other than her. It couldn't be because of the injury, as my dragon and my human form are like separate entities. One form would not affect the other when injured or killed. She must be the reason, then.

Holy f*****g Aegir. I roar yet again in rage and frustration. I'm so close. I bought my freedom and finally got back to Dracone after a month's sailing in the perilous sea between this country and the other, but I cannot go to the capital like this. I must figure out a way to get my flames back. Blast it all! I was so close, and still, this postpones me.

Turning back with a heart filled with rage. I promised myself that I would give myself time to heal, and till then, I must find a way to get my flames back. I must find a way. I look briefly still in the direction of the capital, there is still a far distance I have to fly over, and I'm not sure I could get there with this storm.

Sit tight, sister. I'll come, and you'll regret everything. I promised. Flying over the outskirts of the port town. I see the familiar barn and home of the bonded human and tamer. Where else could I go other than there?

Slowly I land and shift back to my human form. My dressings are still there, but it's soaked and wholly ruined. I don't think the human doctor would mind that as long as I tell them now, but it's dark already, and they're all asleep.

"What are you doing in the rain?"

The sound of her voice pulled me out of my misery just like that. It's funny how easy that is for her, but I'm also incredibly frustrated because of it. I don't look at her because it's incredibly frustrating. I ignore her and walk in the direction of the house.

"Hey," She calls after. Her footsteps were loud and yet so small in the soaked field. "Arius, your bandages are soaked!"

I ignore her still. She has a hard time keeping up with my long strides. My flames are gone, and she's the only reason that I can think of. My fyres took my flames, and now I'm stuck here till then. Blast this fate. Why on earth did I have to get injured and land at their doorsteps? Why did that man even rescue me from that gutter? I would've preferred he left me alone if I knew this would happen.

Scream

My whole body stops moving. I feel my urge to not look at her slowly waning as I look behind me and see her on the ground with a pained expression. She doesn't have an umbrella, nor did she have shoes. Her ankle-length nightgown is soaked, and I can see the tips of her n*****s pushing through the thin covering of her makeshift nightgown. A deep heat comes to my body, but I tamped it down when I see her wince.

"Ugh," she groans. Leaning her head her shoulders, facing the dark pouring sky with her eyes closed. "Go back to the house and change your own dressings."

I should do that. I should look away from her and go back to the house to change my own dressings, yet I can't find it in myself to look away from her. Dark hair was wet and clinging to her body like her measly sleeping clothes. How I can see almost every inch of her body right now, even in the dark. Her skin looks as smooth as marble, and I itch to touch it. Her lips are plump and begging to be kissed.

Leave, I told myself. No part of me moved to leave, though, and as frustrated as I was with what happened. I can only admit just for today that I can't deny her anything, especially when she needs me. Her ankle looks like it's sprained at how red it is now. It'll swell soon, and she'll struggle to walk.

My body moved on its own again. It went by her side and crouched to take her in my arms. She snaps open her eyes, wide in surprise and slight objection. She even pushed me away with such defiance in those mauve eyes. "What are you doing? You're injured. Don't you even dare."

I ignore her. I don't trust myself to say anything right now without making any mistakes. The heat of her body on my arms is waning my resolve, and I can't have that. My half-sister is on the throne, and the country is in danger if she keeps being there. She tenses at the first few seconds but soon relaxes in my arms.

"What are you even doing in the middle of this storm?" she whispers. Probably thinking that I can't hear her in this pouring rain. It is loud, like the heavens would fall. It's the perfect weather to escape, but alas, it would be a poor decision on my part if I go without my flames.

Did my mother felt this way when she met my damned father? Hopeless and trapped? I've always felt sorry for mother, who didn't want her mating at all, yet she loved my father beyond anything, even if he still kept those medicine to keep away from her. 

She's often called the Mate, who's not a queen or the Mate in a gilded cage in court. In a way, they were all right since she is a helpless woman who couldn't get away from the depths of my father's cruelty. She didn't believe in medicine because she was a devout follower of the natural church of Aegir. To deny one's MateMate is a sin that Aegir would not forgive.

So, she stayed till she died of heartsickness and the fyres. Consuming her till there is nothing left of her. Nothing remained of the soft-hearted woman we've loved. Most of the people at her funeral were her colleagues in the church, but father was nowhere to be seen. Would Rogan or I have the same fate as her? Would it be me or her who would take her role?

"Go to the clinic's door," she tugs at my shirt. Her eyes desperate and in a panic. "We can't go through the backdoor or the front. Let's go to the clinic."

I grunt.

Neither of us had the key, so without asking her. I broke the doorknob with one squeeze and turn. She's too shocked to even react to what I did, so I took that advantage to put her on the available beds since she's shivering, and I don't think she knows that.

How human is she? To even shiver like this in the cold. No Draconi would shiver in the cold as it never affected us the way it did to humans. As soon as I put her on the bed, though, she leaps out of it to my irritation. She quickly went to one of the cabinets and took our fresh bandages for me.

"Stop, you should get warm," I hear myself say.

She ignores me as her quick hands grabbed everything she needed and put her small hand on my chest. "Sit, now."

"You lay down," I growl. Her hand is exactly above my heart. She could feel it thundering in my chest just as loud as the lightning outside.

She stares at me with so much intensity, I already knew that she'll be stubborn. That'll be hard for both of us as we both don't seem to want to back down. Why does that both irritate and excite me?

"You're the patient," She says. Pushing me down, but her strength is not that of a Draconi. "So, sit."

I feel how cold her hand is. How I know, she won't back down from this, especially now at this state. I am the guest in this home, but she needs more care than I do. I just relent to end the argument.

"Why did you even go out in the rain without a shirt on?" she mumbles to herself. Taking out her peculiar scissors and cutting down my bandage, and dumping it on the floor. Her lips look pale from this angle, and she looks as if she's ready to faint at any second, or is that just my mind overreacting?

How frail is a hybrid? "I like the rain," I lied.

"That was rhetorical" she dabs a dry sterile gauze on my wound and wipes around it. Throwing it down with such force, I'd think she's pissed.

I smirk. "Are you mad?"

"Are you daft?" she throws back. Taking out the iodine and dabbing it around my stitches, and throws it to the floor again. "Thankfully, your stitches are still intact, and it doesn't look like any of the sutures broke."

I stare at her. Watching her work and worry over the stitches is a weird thing to do, but I somehow find joy in it. Her touches made me lean even further back onto the bed. Her brow furrows together as she continues dabbing me with something else. There's no sting, or even if there is, then I don't feel it.

"Sit up," She says. Taking out a roll of bandages again and prepares some clasps to keep it together. I do what she asks, and she does that comforting thing again of hugging me just to get it around me.

I look up. Not wanting her to see the expression on my face every time he does so and to also remind myself not to wane. I thought of everything but her. I even thought of my father, which I haven't done in years.

The last I saw of him was him clinging to a throne that looks as if it's eating him whole. He has grown frail towards the end of his life. I heard it's because of the medication. It can only do so much after your fyres had died. He had gone too reliant on it to the point that he allocated most of his personal funds to it.

I remember thinking of him as this regal king, but now it is just a shell of that man. Giving me the throne towards the end of his life instead of the children he had with his queen. I refused, but still, that stopped nothing.

"Done," She finally says.

"Good" I pull her with me on the bed. She's caught off guard and quietly falls with me.

With our soaked clothes, I doubt that I could warm the both of us merely with body heat. I'm tempted to just stay in bed with her but staying beside her right now would be useless. I pulled myself out of bed, took a blanket on the other free bed, and then threw it at her.

"Get out of those clothes and warm up. You're freezing" She looks as if she's about to protest, but I add, "do you want me to do it for you then?"

She shakes her head. "I-I'll do it then."

Her panic made me smile, but I made sure she didn't see it.