LIONHEART ❃ george weasley

024 | the dragonlord

Said dragon had found her again, and Albany stumbled backwards, too winded to break into another run. She recalled her wand was still in her hand, and desperately murmured a spell under her breath, pelting the dragon's side with stones from the ground. This did nothing but anger it further, though had bought Albany enough time to catch her breath and make another escape.

The nest ahead of her caught her attention. It seemed she'd come full circle in her running; she had drawn the dragon the entire way around the enclosure and now it was behind her. There was nothing between her and the golden egg but footsteps. It seemed she didn't need to be a dragonlord, or have a plan B, after all — just wing it.

She ran as fast as she possibly could, pumping at the ground with such force she could feel the jolt of each step pound in her head. She could barely breathe, but it was enough to get her to the nest, sweat beading on her forehead as her chest heaved, heart pounding, free hand outstretched—

The dragon threw her to the ground and gave a mighty roar.

Albany's back and head hit solid rock and she might have screamed if the blow hadn't completely deprived her of air; black spots danced in her swaying vision as she lay paralysed, unable to move or breathe. Her wand flew from her hand and disappeared into her peripherals.

The dragon was eager to take advantage of this, and stalked after her like a lion to its prey, revelling in the compromising position she'd been left in. It towered over her as it trapped her beneath its claws, pinning her to the ground; it had blocked out the sun but she couldn't make out much anyway, too dazed to focus her eyes properly.

"Mer—lin," she croaked, mouth opening and closing desperately for air. Her chest heaved as she attempted to recover from being so heavily winded; her ears were ringing so loudly she couldn't make out the horrified screams of the crowd.

Had she been able to see him, she would have noticed that Merlin's cool expression had also fallen into one of panic.

"Speak to her, Albany!" he shouted, though his words sounded like a distant echo in her ears, as if her head had been placed in a fishbowl. "You have to SPEAK!"

Yet Albany could barely breathe under the weight of the dragon's claws. Her vision had gone very hazy, or the air above her had filled with smoke; she realised it was the latter as sparks of blue flame began to flicker in the beast's throat. She was going to die, she realised, because there was no possible way of escaping this, and let her eyes flutter closed in horrible anticipation, too dizzy to keep them open anyway.

She could hear the enclosure gate opening on the other side of the arena, the shouts of dragon handlers too far away to save her. Ludo Bagman had finally shut up, but the noise of the crowd had doubled in exchange, screams of not excitement, but horror. She screwed her eyes shut a little tighter; somehow, in the racket, she was sure she heard her name, a familiar voice....

Her friends.

Albany took a sharp inhale as her eyes shot open; fire was on the tip of the dragon's tongue but the fire in her heart was burning stronger.

"STOP!" she commanded, and the effort of heaving the single word left her breathless for a moment.

The fire died in the dragon's throat. Albany stared it in the eye, burning anger challenging its icy blues.

"You speak," a voice said. It was a deep and grand tone, that resonated... inside Albany's head. She breathed out slowly, mind spinning, yet simultaneously returning to its sense of stillness she'd felt earlier. The dragon was speaking to her, she realised. "You speak our tongue."

"YOU WILL NOT HARM ME," Albany roared, in a voice that didn't entirely feel like her own. The words came naturally, though were unfamiliar on her tongue. The weight on her chest lessened, but the dragon remained.

"Your kind are a rarity," the voice continued. "We have not spoken to a human in many moons."

Albany was burning with questions, but she swallowed them firmly. "I AM YOUR KIN, AND I DEMAND THAT YOU STAND DOWN."

The dragon let out a hiss, shaking its head as if to rid itself of her voice. It was fighting her commands; she felt it.

"STAND DOWN!" she repeated, chest heaving but voice steady.

The dragon growled, and its tail and neck lashed as it fought their connection; reluctantly, it removed its claw from Albany, and began to move backwards, one slow step at a time.

"My eggs," the voice said, and it sounded desperate this time, begging. "Do not harm them."

Albany pushed herself into a sitting position, struggling for breath but filled with a newfound determination. "I WILL SHOW THEM MERCY," she shouted, her voice rumbling in her throat, "IF YOU SHOW ME THE SAME."

The dragon roared, rearing on its back legs and whipping its head back and forth as though it were in pain.

"DRAGON, DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

It fell back to the ground so heavily that Albany was nearly knocked off her feet again; she ignored the instinct to grip her wounded shoulder as she struggled to stand, never breaking eye contact with the beast.

"ANSWER ME!" she demanded, broadening her stance.

The dragon's throat gave a long rumble as it stared her down, body stilled; and then it was lowering itself onto its knees, head bowed in submission to the tiny girl before it.

"You have my word."

Albany nodded curtly. Though she did not doubt the beast's honesty, as she walked steadily towards the nest, she kept her fierce gaze on the winged creature. When she finally broke eye contact to ensure she was retrieving the correct egg, the dragon remained where it was, quiet.

She didn't quite realise she was holding the golden egg until she heard the crowd erupt behind her.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" Ludo Bagman was practically screaming; she could see him above with the judges, who appeared too shocked to present their scores just yet. "ALBANY BRONWEN HAS HER EGG — AND JUST LOOK AT THAT DRAGON!"

The sudden rush of triumph and relief that washed over Albany was so strong it was dizzying; in an instant, weeks of tension and stress were released from her body so quickly she felt weak at the knees. She turned to the dragon, who had closed its eyes and remained bowed as the handlers approached it curiously; one red-headed young man seemed awfully familiar. Merlin stood at the beast's side, smiling broadly at her.

She grinned at him, feeling giddy, but returned her gaze to the Swedish Short-Snout with an exhale to calm herself.

"Thank you," she spoke to it, and it cracked open an eye to acknowledge her.

"What is your name?" the voice in her head asked.

"Albany Bronwen," she replied. "Do you have a name?"

The dragon nodded subtly, and when it released a puff of smoke as a handler drew closer, she could tell it didn't intend any real harm.

"Oneira," it — she — responded. "I am at your mercy now."

"No," Albany said. "You are free from me. Go home."

Oneira shook her head lightly. "Our souls are bound, Albany Bronwen."

Albany stared, and she must have appeared more confused than she felt, as Oneira let out a grumble that might have been a laugh.

"Have you never met a dragon before?" she teased. "I may physically leave you, but if ever you need me, I will respond to your call. You are a dragonlord."