Deragona

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There weren’t always dragons in the Sea, either, nor in the mountains or villages or forests or swamps. In fact, before I was born, there were no dragons anywhere at all.

My mother bore no other children; they died in the womb before her belly would even begin to swell. So, when she had conceived me and successfully grew obtuse with child, there was much celebration all throughout our kingdom. The Queen would finally bear her heir. Villagers and nobles alike would whisper to each other in wonder; who had fathered this one? Yet my mother would never tell. She did not have to.

On the day of my birth, the physician asked if she would like my father present, to which she responded a frantic “No!” She was in labor for many long, painful hours before she gave up. Her breathing slowed at the loss of blood and her heart beat slower and slower. The Physician asked her if she would have him save her or the child, to which she responded “Deragona.”

The physician cut my mother’s stomach open and reached in to pull me out, gasping as he did so. He trembled as he held me and my mother looked on, drowsy and pale, growing weaker by the second. The physician shook his head as he laid me on my mother’s breast.

“A girl,” he said. “I think.”

My mother smiled faintly at me as I suckled the last of her strength and took it for my own. She brushed the space between my eyes with a gentle finger and whispered, “You will be a fine Queen, Deragona. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She died moments later and I was lifted from her body, taken away to someplace dark and cold. I cried out for her as they carried me away, screaming so loud that it echoed throughout the castle. The inhuman shriek that rang throughout the halls did not go unheard. Neither did the news of my mother’s death nor the physician’s retelling of my birth.

I waited for days for someone to come for me, but they did not. After some time, a small slit opened in the wall through which a pair of bright eyes peered. I did not move, for grief and loneliness had stricken me still and silent. The eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the darkness for me. Then, I heard a sweet voice.

“Deragona?”

I perked up at the sound of my name, stretched my limbs and began slowly crawling toward the light. I scraped across the damp, hard floor and made a sound in my throat.

“It’s here,” the voice said. “Come, we must save it.”

The door swung open and I cried out in fear. Three children clamored through the doorway, one of them holding a blanket which they tossed over my head. I flailed and cried, but the children were stronger than I—they gathered me in the blanket and carried me out.

I went silent after some time, carried in the uncertain darkness by strange arms. I heard the whispers of the children as they moved through the castle, their footsteps on the stone, the creaking of the many doors we must have passed through. Finally, the blanket was lifted from me and I scurried from the hands of the children.

Frantic, I took in my surroundings. Rough stone walls surrounded us, but it was dry and there was more light here than where I’d been before. I could smell new scents and feel fresh air all around me. We were outside the castle, in a cave.

“It’s alright, little one,” came that same sweet voice from before. “We are your friends. Trust us, we are here to help you. We knew your mother, little Deragona. She trusted us with your safety.”

I blinked at them. I was a child, too, but I was not like them. Somehow, I knew that they were like my mother and I was not the same. They were soft and delicate where I was tough and impenetrable. They were beautiful and well-loved where I was odd and ugly and shunned. They were not thrown into cold darkness upon their birth, but wrapped in swaddles and held closely in warm arms.

On the other side of the cave, there was a small shimmering pool of water. Thirst hit me like a boulder to the head and I crawled awkwardly across the floor toward it, dragging my heavy tail behind me. I dipped my face toward the water to drink, but stopped at the sight of my reflection; the bulging orange eyes; a dripping, wrinkled snout; sharp spikes protruding from my cheeks and forehead; the buds of my first sharp teeth poking through black gums; horns jutting from the top of my head. I closed my eyes and drank from the pool before turning back to the children. But when I did, they were gone. The only thing left with me inside the cave was a young goat, pacing the outcropping of rocks outside the cave.

I slithered over to the cave’s opening and looked down. The three small bodies that had carried me here were now retreating, skittering down the rocks toward the kingdom below. I could see the castle from the mouth of the cave, and the village below. I could see the mountains in the distance and the rivers that snaked into the Valley.

I lifted my weak, thin wings, stretching them out to their full length. I knew that they were not yet strong enough to carry me, but someday they would be. I turned to the goat who was slowly chewing on something, paying me no mind. I hoped the few teeth I had produced would be enough to tear through its thick flesh. I needed it to make me stronger.

When I was alone again, my belly full, I sat at the edge of the cave and watched the world below me. A few days passed and the children returned, praising me for eating the goat and leaving another one when they departed. Every three days, they would bring me another. After a few weeks, the goats they brought were bigger, older. They tasted different but enriched my body just the same. When I had been in the cave for a few months, the children arrived once more, this time with a stallion.

I sniffed at it and, though I was reluctant to damage the beauty of the creature, felt my stomach rumble with the desire to fill it with the horse’s flesh. I nodded my thank-you to the children. But they did not leave.

“Deragona,” said the sweet one, “I must tell you this before we go. They will replace the Queen. They will take your rightful place because you are not human. Your mother did not tell us what to do beyond bringing you here and feeding you. But you are our Queen, Deragona. The true heir to your mother’s throne. What will you have us do?”

It would be the first time I would ever speak to them, but it would not be the last. I moved my tongue within my mouth, licking my elongated teeth and preparing to form the strange human words with my stiff, calloused lips.

“I know nothing of being a Queen,” I said. “I know only that my mother did not create me alone. Perhaps if we can find my father—”

The sweet girl shook her head. “The Queen told us nothing of your father.”

I gazed out again at the Valley, its inviting green grass and full, fruitful trees. The rivers sparkled and birds cawed as they sailed through the skies. The world outside the cave was so full of beauty, so full of pleasures that I had never known. I longed to explore it. And now, with my wings growing stronger every day, I did not have to deny myself that wish much longer.

“I cannot sit upon any throne,” I said. “I am but a monster to your people.”

The girl nodded, set her face determinedly. “I will find the father for you,” she said. “I will not rest until the truth of your creation is discovered.”

“And we will keep bringing you food, too.” This was a second child, a boy. The third, another young girl, stood close by him with her arm around his shoulders. She remained silent.

I turned back toward the horse, my horned tail scuffing across the stone floor. I would enjoy this meal the most, I thought, because it would be the last time I ate in captivity, the last time I ate as a prisoner trapped within these stone walls. When I was finished consuming the stallion, I would fly. For the first time in my life, I would spread my wings and soar—over the castle, over the Valley, over the mountains. I would shadow the entire kingdom with my breadth and strike fear into their hearts. I would show them that I was no longer an infant to be tossed aside. I would show them that I, Deragona, would be only the first of the dragons.