LIONHEART ❃ george weasley

024 | the dragonlord

Game time.

The Swedish Short-Snout was prowling on the opposite end of the enclosure. For a dragon that would most likely be attempting to kill her, it was a stunning, impressive creature. Lean muscles rippled under silvery-blue scales as it moved; it followed the same path back and forth as it stalked protectively in front of its clutch of eggs, tail lashing violently and nostrils flaring with smoke. Its wings were outstretched and overbearing, though not with the intention of taking to the air, Albany realised. It was seriously agitated.

"Of course she's pissed off," Merlin chuckled, and Albany turned suddenly to find him at her side, smiling reassurances. "She's a nesting mother whose children are under threat. Not to mention, dragons aren't exactly fond of crowds."

"Brilliant," Albany groaned, returning her gaze to the great beast. She was safe as long as she kept her distance; the dragon wasn't going to risk leaving its eggs. "Can't you just use your own dragonlord powers for me?"

"For starters, that's cheating," Merlin said in amusement, and Albany rolled her eyes. "But even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'm dead, remember?"

Albany sighed, though her breaths weren't shaky this time. Adrenaline was pumping her system and her muscles felt like steel she was so tense, but she refused to let her nerves get the best of her. Not now.

"So what do I do?" she asked, warily eyeing the dragon; the longer she stayed put, the more daring it was becoming, inching closer to her every time it paced.

"You speak to it," Merlin said, though something about his tone implied it wasn't that simple. "The same way in which your soul is intertwined with mine, if you are a dragonlord, your soul and the dragon's are sisters."

"Oh, fab," Albany said sarcastically, peering over at the defensive mother. "Hey girl, how you been doing?"

"Albany."

"I know," she sighed, wringing out her wrists as she exhaled. "So what do I actually do?"

"No, I was serious, this isn't about fighting," Merlin informed her. "You must speak to her as kin. If you assert yourself effectively, she must obey your word."

Albany blinked, staring at the silvery dragon. It stepped closer than it ever had yet, an uncomfortable twenty feet away at most.

"That does require getting closer," Merlin urged her gently. "You can't be dominant over a dragon if you're too scared to put yourself in its reach."

"Fuck, okay," Albany hissed, and the few steps she took forward made her knees feel weak. She glanced nervously to Merlin. "Is there like, any other way to go about this? It's kind of embarrassing, y'know, talking to a dragon like it's my friend."

"Quit stalling."

And then he disappeared.

"Oh, fuck you, Merlin," Albany spat, and stepped forward again, wand drawn.

The dragon regarded her with a vicious stare as she approached slowly; its eyes were icy and piercing, not unlike Faith's — oh, forget Faith — and a deep growl rumbled in its throat as Albany continued to close the distance, the sound resounding in her eardrums. Flames tickled at its jaw, a bright, flickering blue in colour. Love the colour scheme you've got going on.

"Hey," Albany greeted it, with as much confidence as she could muster, and held her chin high as she gripped her wand.

Assert yourself, Merlin had said, so she stepped closer again, drawing up her shoulders. She was so close that she could see the shine of each individual scale, its muscles rippling as the dragon sized her up, its pacing slowed but stance heightened. Her eyes flicked behind the beast's lashing tail to the nest it was defending; a golden egg shone out among the others. Her ticket out of here.