The Dragons of King's Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Since the days of my father’s rebellion, we’ve been subjected to hiding here. It is here, in the protective embrace of the mountains that surround King’s Valley, where we have remained, clinging to our last beacon of hope; our last chance of survival.

Dragons. Fearsome beasts. We were Gods among men, before we were betrayed; slaughtered by our own ruler. The magicals that fought at our side against my father’s injustice, followed us here to the mercy of these mountains. How the mighty have fallen. Creatures of myth and legend, we have been reduced to cowering in the shadows.

I move from where I stand behind my big oaken desk towards the far window that overlooks the castle’s training grounds. Every day, after my various council meetings (all the wow and pizzaz of running a small kingdom), I stand at this window to observe how my army fairs. I check for both strengths and opportunities. It never ceases to amaze me, just how resilient they all are. They’re so hungry for vengeance. Dragons, elves, witches, wolves and vampires, alike, train every single day with an insatiable need to be absolutely indestructible. The energy they emit vibrates with the need to reclaim what was stolen from us.

I am very well aware of the fact that by assembling my army, I am gambling with the fate of their lives. Even more disturbing to me is the knowledge that they do is willingly! As if their lives are nothing more than pawns to be thrown away! They have eagerly laid their lives in my hands to do so as I wish and it makes me sick to my stomach. Who am I to be worthy of their loyalty and trust? I, the son of a tyrant and a traitor. And yet, they do trust me. Who, if anybody, can I trust?

“How are they looking, today?” A familiar voice asks from behind me. It startles me, not just because she has broken me out of my reverie, but also because it does not bode well for my supposed superior hearing. I recover myself quickly, though, and step away from the window and make my way to the drink cart to pour us each a glass of wine.

“They look as to be expected. They look like they won’t tolerate anymore bullshit and will obliterate anyone who gets in their way. Though, Alistair seems to have some concerns about some of the witches. Poor old man still doesn’t trust them all.” I’m careful to not let on that I have concerns of my own that mirror those of my commanding officer’s, Alistair. I don’t see any sense in worrying my mother without any concrete evidence, yet.

“Alistair has every right to be distrustful, as do we all. I’ve been keeping tabs on them myself. Just to be safe. We can’t afford to be caught without contingencies. Time’s almost up, Pendragon. I can feel it.” Mother pauses as she picks up the paperweight hourglass on the corner of my desk and inspects it with great focus, as if to drive her point home. She flicks her eyes up at me and quickly returns her gaze to the hourglass before setting it back down on its designated area.

Of course she has eyes on them, as do I. Nothing like being vigilant.

“Yes,” I finally respond. “I can sense it, too.” Each night, the knot in stomach gets a little tighter in anticipation. I know this war is necessary, for our survival and just on principle alone, which is why I feel so guilty about wanting to avoid it all together and remain here in the safety of the mountains.

“What about you, son? How are you feeling? Are you ready?” She asks timidly. She can sense the torment in me. The torture that brings me to my knees and drags me closer to the ground.

There’s no sense trying to be so brave about it in front of her. She can read me like a book. So I Allow myself a moment’s reprieve and I let my shoulders sag as a deep exhale I didn’t know I was holding escapes. I lean my head from side to side to relieve some of the tension in my neck and begin the process of mentally collecting myself before I reopen my eyes. I square my shoulders, tighten my core and lift my chin as I turn my body completely towards my mom and offer her a glass. She takes it with a nod and a soft smile before taking a long sip.

“ I was born ready!” I exclaim. I smile at her but even I know it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I know I don’t have to put on a brave face for my mom, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t or shouldn’t at least try. I don’t do it just for my mother’s benefit, but for my own as well. It’s necessary to do in order to make it through the day, sometimes. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?

Just as I expected though, mother isn’t buying my half-assed attempt at pepping myself up. I can see it etched into the beautiful and delicate features of her face; the face of a woman who understands me more than I understand myself, sometimes.

She doesn’t say anything for a little while. She just smiles at me softly, giving me time and quiet so that I may better collect my thoughts and feelings. To reinforce the “no pressure here” attitude, mom begins to peruse the notes from this morning’s war council.

I appreciate this more than I can express. My confidence in myself and my capabilities has not been as consistent as I’d like it to be, recently.

It’s the combined weight of my lineage, my ever mounting responsibilities, and the knowledge that we are quickly running out of time that makes it all so hard to move one foot in front of the other.

When I was a boy, I had imagined that my reign might be a peaceful one. I dreamt that the people would love me and follow me to the ends of the world, and I fantasized about expanding the empire through sheer persuasion and force of will. Wishful thinking, though. Rather stupid, in fact. Father and Mother both used to tell me that ‘with great power comes great responsibility,’ but I took it with a grain of salt, as most children do.

Leading a people into war is not something I had even considered for my future. I was just a boy when reality smashed my dreams to absolute shit. So foolish and naive was I to ever think that this would be an easy, glamorous life.

“I wish I could take away the pain and the burden that sit so heavily on your shoulders, my love,” she says finally. “But I know that even if I could, in doing so, I’d be robbing you of the the successes that come along with them. Still, it doesn’t ease the ache in my heart. I love you, Pendragon. Completely and immeasurably. And I believe in you. Always have and always will. If nothing else, I need you to remember that.”

I didn’t know that my mother’s words are exactly what I need to hear to be able to get on with it, until they leave her lips and I can feel myself relax a little. Our eyes meet and I convey my silent thanks.

I dare not ever stop trying or moving forward, for everything that we have worked for, everything that remains will collapse if I do. I can’t let her down like that. I can’t let my people down like that.

“You’re not mistaken, Mom, though I must admit that the cause of my current distress and suffering is not what you think it is…our lovely Martha has just broken terrible news that…” I pause for a dramatic effect while pretending to stifle soft sobs, “…there’s no more …ice cream.”

I collapse myself into a velvet chair and throw an arm over my eyes while my other arm clutches my chest in mock agony.

“NO! How is my son to lead us in a revolution WITHOUT ICE CREAM?!”

Mom throws her head back in a laugh, clutching her abdomen and I can’t help but join her moment of infectious joy.

I am grateful for these moments with her. They don’t happen very often, especially in the last few years since the betrayal. She hasn’t been the same since he broke her heart and stole her magic. Now she’s s shadow of the beautiful, light-hearted spirit she once was.

Our laughter is brought up short as the screams from the battlements below pierce the air. I jump out of my seat at the sound, my glass shattering on the floor and wine spilling everywhere and bolt for the window. What I see on the grounds below me sinks my stomach to my feet.

Fighting has broken out amongst the magicals on the training field. Already there is blood on the ground and arrows are flying. Wands have been drawn and some of have shifted from their human forms into their dragons and wolves.

An arrow comes flying towards me from below and jump out of the window just before it makes contact with my body.

Only to realize that the arrow doesn’t clang onto the stone floor, but instead pierces through flesh. My mother’s hands wrap around the shaft of the arrow that sticks out of her hip. She falls to her knees as her gaze meets mine.

Just like that, our time’s up.