Tales from the Arena

The Raven's Fall

Borderline gore warning towards the end of the chapter. Not sure if it's is enough to really need a warning, but just to be safe.

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Raven watched the SandWing's charred body crumple without reaction. Death had immortalized the look of agony on the traitor's face, the charred talon prints on his neck a testament to how he'd died. The copper dragonet looked up at Queen Scarlet, her blue eyes searching for a sign of approval.

"Peregrine," the queen said. "Send a message to Queen Burn that I've dealt with her spy for her."

Scarlet stood, spreading her wings wide and scanning the room. "I hope this is a lesson to anyone else who might think of disobeying their queen. Peril, back to your room."

The firescales dragonet lowered her gaze, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as she walked towards the entrance to the throne room. Dragons scurried out of the way of her blazing scales.

Don't think it will ever change, Raven thought coldly. However honored you are, you'll never be anything more than her weapon.

He felt his queen's gaze on him as the assembled dragons were dismissed. Raven kept his face neutral, gazing calmly down at the dead SandWing. He didn't need to look at Scarlet to know what her expression said. Do you think you can measure up, my dear Raven? Do you think you can be half as useful as Peril is to me?

Raven didn't react, acting as though he hadn't noticed her gaze. "Shall I dispose of the body, Your Majesty?"

"No," the queen said. "Save it, in case Queen Burn would like to see for herself."

In case Scarlet would have another chance to show off her little monster's abilities to the SandWings, then. Raven nodded. "As you wish. Am I dismissed, then?"

"Yes," the queen said, waving a wing as though bored. "Go and do whatever it is you do."

Raven bowed his head, then turned and took off from the throne room. The cool evening air wrapped around him with every wingbeat, a stark contrast to the heat of the throne room. The room was designed to capture the light and heat from the sun, and when it was as full of dragons as it had been, it quickly became almost stifling. The blazing heat of Peril's scales only compounded the oppressiveness of the queen's court.

Raven wanted nothing to do with the firescales hatchling. He knew that Scarlet intended for her to take his place one day. He hadn't been present on the brightest night, when the queen had introduced Peril to the rest of the tribe, but she had made no attempt to hide it from him.

He honestly wasn't sure what she was waiting for: it wasn't like Peril needed to be trained. But maybe the idea of watching grown dragons running in terror from a four-year-old wasn't as entertaining to the queen as Raven would've guessed.

But why would any fight involving her be entertaining? They would all be exactly the same: the prisoner runs away, or stupidly tries to attack. Peril gets a hold of them, and they died of the burns. There would be no nuance to the battle, no contest of smarts or skills that gave a fight its appeal. Only death.

Peril had done nothing to earn the position Scarlet wanted to give to her. She was just lucky enough to have been hatched with firescales. Raven, on the other talon, had trained for this. He had honed his combat skills, training for hours every day until he could perform every attack without thinking. He had fought in real battles and one-on-one, learning to spot weaknesses in his opponents and discovering exactly how to exploit them. He had trained with the SandWings and the MudWings, learning their techniques as well as those of his own tribe. And when the time had come he had entered the contest for the Queen's Champion, defeating each of his opponents until he was the last dragon standing. He had earned his title, and had the scars to prove it.