dragons » d.m [1]

xxi

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE  
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D R A C O

"BURN THEM ALL! BURN THEM ALL!" the voices in his head screamed. The mad king sat on the Iron Throne, his gaze lost into nothingness, as the words kept repeating in an endless loop.

With his head unclear, he stumbled through the dungeons of the castle, ignoring everybody's offers of help.

Taking a torch from the wall, he ventured into the depths of the dungeon. His lilac eyes grew intensely when he saw the glistening wildfire, molten-like jasmines dripping through the containers.

A wicked laugh was forced out of his throat, as his bloodshot eyes focused on the wildfire before him, seducing him to be used.

All dragons were extinct, but he had their blood running in his veins. He was a dragon, and his fire was in front of him.

(Y/n) opened her eyes abruptly. She coughed the dry itchiness from her throat and rubbed the ashes away from her face...

She became aware she was clinging onto someone. She saw familiar platinum hair and pale skin lay still on the floor. His face was painted black by the smoke and his lips chapped. She started panicking. The fire had died down, leaving the library splattered with ashes.

"Draco?" She asked softly, cleaning his face and gently combing the hair from his forehead with her shaky hands.

Tears started welling up in her eyes. She moved her head to his chest to listen to his pulse. She waited. And waited. Waited for the signal that proved he was still alive.

"Draco!" She called him again, shaking his limp body slightly.

Silence.

"My Dragon..." She whispered, clutching his cold hand against hers, her tears streaming down her face and falling on his. "My silver Dragon..." she whimpered, "You're supposed to live... Fire cannot kill a Dragon." Moving his hand, she made it cup her cheek, trying to warm it up.

The tears fell uncontrollably, her face twisting into a mournful cry.

"(Y/n)..." she heard her name being muttered softly. Snapping her eyes open, she noticed his mouth slightly agape.

His breathing was shallow and irregular, his chest rising slightly and his eyes squinted and teary due to the cinders and sunlight.

"Draco..." she cried. "My Dragon," she buried her face on the crook of his neck, blocking reality away from her.

His hand softly rested on her back as she cried softly; she never knew what crying of happiness was until that very moment.

"It hurts, (Y/n)," he whispered. "I can't make it," he coughed.

"No! I- I'll find us a way out!"

Standing up, she tripped slightly over her feet and slammed the double doors of the library. She pushed, yet the wood remained in place. Moving over to the windows, she shattered one with a burnt plank. Looking through the window, an infinite abyss was welcoming her to jump; yet she refused.

"Seven Hells!" She yelled frustrated, gripping her hair in desperation.

She heard Draco calling her, and she walked towards him. He managed to sit down, his back resting on the wall and his eyes closed, "(Y/n)," he said softly.

"Yes?" she asked, kneeling next to him as he held her hand. He looked weak, not the usual fit healthy Draco– no, he looked ill and at the verge of losing his life and she couldn't do anything to save him.

"You need to leave. Now," he commanded.

"I'm not leaving you to die!" She cried.

He shook his head slightly.

"There's no point for me to live. You're already dead," he muttered, his face filled with agony.

"No!" she took his hand and placed it on her chest, making him feel her heartbeat.

"This is wrong, (Y/n). You should be dead by now. What was written in those books... Happened thousands of years ago," he mustered.

She stayed quiet, letting him talk further as her mind started to slowly process what he had just said.

"Targaryens. Lannisters. Starks. Baratheons. They're gone now. They all died."

Her face changed when she realised she was thousands of years old. Maybe that's why the Goblet of Fire allowed her to enter the competition, because she was of age.

"And- and how do you know this..?" She asked, horrified. "Why am I here?"

He smiled, his face lighting up with hope that filled her empty heart.

"Because I used to love you," he closed his eyes, "You were in these stories... The Daughter of Dragons, was one of your many your titles..." He smiled nostalgically. "A hundred times, if not thousands I've read tales about your beauty, and they were not exaggerating. I used to imagine how you would look like, how it would feel to touch your hair-like molten silver through my fingers."

Her heart broke. She couldn't bear to see him like this, telling these beautiful things in such a horrible state.

"The first time I saw you walked into the Great Hall, I instantly knew you were a Targaryen," he paused, hesitating to continue talking. "I couldn't believe the princess of my dreams was in front of me. I wanted to not believe it, you were supposed to be dead, so that's why I kept all this information from you too," he sighed, defeated.

"Draco..."

"The book about Aegon The Conquerer was one of my favourites, yet I had to burn it to hide the truth. I kept telling myself you weren't (Y/n) Targaryen, but no- you are..."

"If- if I'm in those books... Why didn't Dumbledore- no- anyone mention about me at all?" She asked bewildered.

"Because they know, danger is coming. Calamities will occur– no they already are occurring," he traced his finger through the mark of her arm, "and they would rather turn their faces to the truth rather than facing it."

"Fear?"

"They're afraid, that the prophecy has come true."

"Winter is coming," she whispered, terrified.

"Whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire knows, and wants you to die– all of us to die," he said, referring to the great fire, "Someone wants you dead, so you have to leave while you can. Now," he coughed slightly, running out of energy.

"And then what?" She asked, her eyes full of concern.

"Burn them all."