Chapter 4
It was not that he couldn't tell when Feyd was feinting or from where the sword would come. Feyd Harkonnen was 25 years old and one hell of a fighter. While he was a boy of 7 who was just picking up the sword. Not to mention that Feyd was a monstrous genius on top of it. A servant moved to retrieve his weapon.
"You are getting better, young Lord," Feyd said slowly.
Now wasn't that a good thing. Feyd was a sadistic and vicious fighter, and if he told you that you did well? It was a huge compliment. Feyd was part of House Harkonnen, a vassal House of House Baelaeron. They are our main military force and are known to be the most deadly fighters in the Freehold, and some argue even the world.
"Thank you, Feyd," I replied, breathing heavily. The weight of the training sword still felt awkward in my hands, but It will get better with time.
Feyd studied me with his sharp, calculating eyes. "You have potential, I ...will make sure not to let it go to waste."
Let me tell you, as much as I am in awe of his skill and style, he terrifies me still.
I nodded, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Yes, Feyd. I understand."
Feyd handed the sword back to me, his expression unreadable. "Good. Now, again."
We resumed our training. Feyd's style was ruthless and unrelenting, as was he. He pushed me to my limits, and I knew it was because he saw something in me worth honing.
His skill was unmatched, his movements precise and deadly. Yet, there was a darkness in him, a cruelty that he didn't bother to hide. He relished in the pain he inflicted, using it as a tool to harden me.
After what felt like hours, Feyd finally called for a break. I collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but satisfied with my progress. Feyd stood over me, his gaze not leaving my eyes.
"You're learning quickly, young Lord," he said and left me on the floor. Man, this guy has no chill.
I made my way back to the mansion, my body aching from the exertion. Feyd Harkonnen was a harsh teacher, but I knew that his methods were shaping me into a warrior. And in a world as dangerous as ours, that was exactly what I needed to become.
Inside, I found Seraphine waiting for me, her eyes bright with curiosity. "How was training?" she asked.
"Grueling, as always," I replied with a tired smile. "But Feyd says I'm getting better."
"That's great!" she exclaimed. "I knew you would. Anyway, you stink. Take a bath"
-.-
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These stairs are going to be the death of me, I thought to myself as I ascended the seemingly endless spiral. At the moment, I was on my way to my dragon, friend, and companion, Ancalagon. But of course, he just had to choose today—the day I planned to ride with him—to nest on the highest tower that is property of my family.
"There you are, you overgrown lazy lizard," I shouted the moment I saw him sprawled across the tower's platform.
In response, he opened his massive eyes, his irises glowing like molten gold, and dramatically rose to his full height, letting out a mighty roar. If I were still in my old life and standing in front of this mighty beast, I would have resigned myself to fate and just flung myself off the tower. Good for me that he is bonded to me.
In these few years, he has grown abnormally. I know that dragons here mature and grow much faster because of their free lifestyle and the magic in the air, but looking at other dragons and records that my father and I reviewed, nobody ever grew as fast as Ancalagon. He is already over 24 meters long even though he is just 7 years old. In comparison, Ruby, my sister's dragon, is 13 meters long, which is about how big a dragon should be at his age.
"Yes, a lazy lizard, or how else would you describe your behavior?" I said with feigned anger. He was a very well-trained dragon for his age, but I still wasn't quite over the fact of how many fucking stairs I had to take.
Ancalagon broke eye contact and lowered his head and wings, offering me his neck to climb onto. I climbed up and settled into the almost familiar position behind the dragon's head. With a great bellow of what almost sounded like triumph, the dragon took to the air. In the meantime, I tried to figure out what I was about to get myself into.
The wind whipped past us as Ancalagon soared higher, his powerful wings slicing through the air with ease. Below, the sprawling landscape of the Freehold stretched out in all directions. The feeling of freedom, of being untethered from the ground, was exhilarating. Every time I rode Ancalagon, it felt like a new adventure, a new discovery.
"Where to today, Ancalagon?" I mused aloud, patting his scales affectionately. "Shall we explore the coast? Or perhaps the mountains to the east?"
Ancalagon responded with a low, rumbling growl that I interpreted as agreement. He adjusted his flight path, angling us towards the distant peaks. The mountains were always a favorite of ours.
I found the solitude of the caves perfect for practicing my fire magic, which I've become quite skilled at. As for Ancalagon, I think he's naturally drawn to caves, similar to how cats are drawn to tight spaces and try to explore everything they encounter(weird creatures, I tell ya). It might be an instinctive preference for dragons.
Lost in thought, I almost didn't notice the approaching storm clouds until Ancalagon let out a warning roar. I snapped back to attention, gripping the reins tightly.
"All right, boy, let's find some shelter," I called out over the rising wind. Ancalagon veered towards a rocky outcrop below, descending swiftly and landing with a controlled thud. We sought refuge in a shallow cave, the entrance just wide enough for Ancalagon to squeeze through.
As the storm raged outside, I slid down from his neck and patted his side. "Good job, Ancalagon. Looks like we'll have to wait this one out."
Ancalagon huffed contentedly, his massive form curling up in the cave. Within moments, he was snoring softly, his rhythmic breathing as comforting as a purr from a cat. I found a spot nearby and sat down, cross-legged on the cool stone floor.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, feeling the familiar warmth growing within me. Fire magic had always felt natural, and after much training, I had very fine control over it.
I extended my hand, palm up, and let a small flame flicker to life. I concentrated, molding the flame with my will, shaping it into a tiny dragon. The creature instantly took form and I let it fly around the cave. Ancalagon opened his eyes and looked curiously at it for a second before closing his eyes again.
I smiled at my creation, pleased with the level of detail I had achieved. I created another dragon, then another, until a small swarm of fire-dragons danced around the cave.
After a while, I decided to test my limits. I increased the number of dragons, pushing myself to maintain control over more and more of them. My breath came in short gasps, sweat trickling down my forehead as I concentrated. The cave was filled with the light of dozens of tiny, fiery dragons.
A sudden crash of thunder jolted my concentration, and for a moment, the dragons wavered. I took a deep breath, regaining my focus before extinguishing them.
This was training to control my concentration and mastery over the flames. If I wanted to, I could obliterate the cave with the raw firepower I had gained over the years, but the more raw power, the harder it was to control.
Ancalagon snorted in his sleep, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils while the storm outside began to subside, the thunder growing distant and the rain less intense. I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic patter of raindrops and the steady breathing of my dragon.
I stood up, stretching my limbs.
"Come on, get up, Ancalagon. We should return before Mother realizes we were gone, or I will not be allowed near you for a month again."
Yes, this did happen. Not that I didn't understand my mother. I am a child, technically, and no mother—Dragonlady-Mum or not—will allow their child to ride their dragon without supervision, much less through a storm. But here I am.
Ancalagon rumbled in response, stretching his wings and shaking off the remnants of sleep. I climbed onto his back, settling into the familiar spot behind his neck.
"Let's go, boy," I urged, and with a powerful leap, Ancalagon launched us into the air.
The flight back was swift and smooth, the storm having passed. We aimed for the highest tower, our secret landing spot to avoid suspicion. Ancalagon landed gracefully on the tower's ledge, his claws scraping lightly against the stone.
"Thanks, Ancalagon," I said, patting his neck affectionately. "You really are the best, you know that?"
He responded with a soft rumble, his eyes half-closing in contentment.
"I'll see you soon, boy," I promised, sliding off his back. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"
Ancalagon snorted softly, almost as if he was laughing. I gave him one last pat before heading toward the stairs.
As I descended I couldn't ignore the growing unease in my stomach. I had just reached the bottom when I heard a voice that made my heart skip a beat.
"And where, pray tell, did my little dragon go to now?" My mother's voice was sharp and really, really angry.
Fuck.
I turned slowly, trying to muster an innocent expression. "Mother, I was just—"
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see that no matter what I said, I was knee-deep in shit. This was not going to be easy to explain.
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Ehmm, yeah. New Chapter, Eureka!!!!!