Master of Dragons, Part 1 (complete)

She walked up to the little house, a bit cautious as her brother was now gone from the entrance. Perhaps she partially expected him to come out from the walls to start her punishment. But, he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she would be able to sneak into her father’s room to avoid the beating, she grinned.

When she entered her house, she found Mr. Finch, Elric’s father, sitting in their quaint living room, along with the city Coroner.

She froze, staring at the Coroner. The dainty clothes, the sun-kissed skin, his rowdy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was the same one who confirmed her mother’s death years ago. Her stomach dropped and twisted, her heart palpitating so hard it hurt. All the blood rushed from her head, making her dizzy. It couldn’t be… The room was silent, other then the faint sound of the animals outside.

Then, her brother came in, a rather well placed smile on his lips as he carried their finest tea set. The smell of the herbs she gathered filled the room, showing he used her own homemade blend. It should have been comforting, but it was not.

“Come, sit, Verrine.” Mr. Finch said, motioning to the seat beside him. She seemed to float to the spot, plopping down without grace. She kept her eyes on the Coroners fairy-like face, her body slowly numbing along with her brain. As per custom, he ignored her existence, only addressing her brother once he had taken a seat. He took their fancy cup to his red lips, as if he was about to spout good news, not news that was about to turn her world upside down.

“Mr. Locke, I have examined the body as requested and concluded your fathers death was of natural causes.” There is was, the sound of her world shattering. Her beloved father was gone, and she was not even present for his last breath. A buzzing filled her ears as she drooped in an unladylike way. The Coroner glanced at her with a look of distaste before returning his attention back to her brother. “You should teach your sister-” He spat the word sister as if it was bitter in his mouth. “Better manners, Mr. Locke.” She could feel someone touch her shoulder briefly, but she could hardly register it. In front of her paperwork was being signed and plans for burial made. She watched, dazed.

He was gone. Her beloved father was gone.

His joyful cheers while she would parry Elric, or his loud laugh when she would bring back a good hunt, gone. They way his eyes would light up for her, or how he would encourage her to keep going, gone.

He was gone. Hot needles burned behind her eyes, but refused to come out. Her body felt cold, tingly and numb. Her eyes blurred as she continued to stare at the quill in her brothers hand.

“I am sorry, Verrine.” Her name made her look up to Mr. Finch, whose face was pale and tear streaked. He was grieving like her, and that is what made her tears fall. It was real, and his grief is what made her realize it. She sniveled, her tears hot against her cheeks. “Your father was a good man, I loved him like a brother.” He said, reaching out and placing his large hand on the top of her head. “If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. You are like my own kin.” His eyes were watery and his nose red. “I will take care of the funeral expenses, I am aware of your current financial problems.” She nodded, tears hot on her cheeks.

“How kind of you to offer, Mr. Finch.” Her brothers flat voice made her shrink back, needles prickling at her skin as he glared harshly at her. “However I ask you speak to me about such things, the female of this house is not educated enough to handle complex situations.” She could feel Mr. Finch tense, the grieving side of him being replaced with his professional side.

“Understood, Kain. However I was speaking to Verrine, please do not interrupt.” His tone was curt, polite. It was a world different from the grief she just witnessed. How was he able to pull himself together to fast? She sat there, tears hot, skin tingling, cold and hot flashes, and twisting gut pains. She had so many feelings to sort out. Yet, tear stained cheeks and all, Mr. Finch looked as if conducting business.

“On the contrary, Mr. Finch, Verrine belongs to me now.” The coldness in his voice made her shiver.

However, he was not wrong. With her father gone, no fiancé or prospects, she belonged to her brother. She was less of value then the pigs in the pen, or the sheep in their pasture. The horror was deep in her gut, mixing with the grief of losing her father.

It was a blur after that. She sat still, crying, watching everything happen as if it was a dream. Mr. Finch paid men to take her father’s body out, night fell, and the sun rose. Then, they buried him in the city graveyard next to their mother, then she was home, sitting on the chair in front of her brother, the darkness surrounding them again.

It happened in a way she wasn’t sure if days passed, or if it was all in a moment. She blinked, looking to her clothes. She wore a black grieving dress, and a veil. She didn’t remember putting them on, or where she got them. She blinked again, eyes turning to Kain who was looming. Nine tails of knotted leather swung from his hand as he got closer. When did they get here? What day was it? Did she feed the animals? Everything was a blur.

“Get down onto your knees and face the chair.” She did, her mind hazy and mouth dry. When did she last eat? Drink? The sound of tearing made her blink, and the cold on her back was strange. However, she could not bring herself to think further as to why it was strange.

The flogger came down on her flesh, and everything came flooding back in a flash of searing pain. He hit her, crisscrossing his lashes on her raw skin. The whip caught her eye, the knotted tails were crimson with her blood.

Her ears rang so loudly that it drowned the sound of the lashes. The whip came down on her back over and over, her flesh being ripped from her body, the pain searing her like fire. Then it became apparent that the sound in her ears was not ringing, but her screams. She could feel her bones creaking under the force, her skin taking the brunt. The next whip of the flogger made her collapse into the chair, her knees too weak to hold her body as multiple more snaps against her body were heard. She was dizzy, light headed and weak as her head was forcibly twisted to the side.

Grey eyes, tinted with lavender, stared coldly down at her. No regret was in his expression, despite her blood tainting his cheeks. “You will behave like a proper lady.” He spat the words, glowering as he wound the bloody cat o’ nine tails around his hand. Tears filled her eyes, as she laid broken against the chair. It hurt to move. A little hiccup from crying would feel like a new lash. At this rate, she would be surprised if she had any flesh on her back anymore.

The cat o’ nine tails. The worst punishment one could receive when being flogged. She watched it happen before, the man was being flogged for murdering his son.

But she was no murderer. The hot blood streamed down her back, soaking into her dress and cooling there. She sobbed, her back screaming at her to stop, even the slightest movement was agony. She ignored the cries of her body and forced herself up on wobbly arms, before shakily standing on her feet, her knees knocking together.

No, even as a woman she did not deserve a murderers punishment. She hugged herself, what little skin she had left on her back pulling, barely holding what was left of her together. Her front was still clothed, and that’s all she needed. Putting one shaky leg in front of the other, she made her way to the door. The night air was cold, painful yet soothing as she took shaky steps. The small path was familiar to her, she walked it many times before. Slowly, she made her way to her hiding spot, under the old elm tree, and laid in the dirt, her back facing up to not touch the ground. She sobbed hysterically as the heavy emotions and crippling pain bombarded her one after the other. Then, she sobbed more, and more, until she had no more energy and her body collapsed. The darkness was bliss, but did not last.

She had no dreams, and her eyes had crusted when she slept. It was painful to open them, the dirt and elm of the hallow greeting her. Time was a blur, but her stomach growled in hunger, so she assumed she had not eaten for awhile.

The birds were singing, the chattering noise of the forest soothing. It was almost as if everything was right.

Almost.

But it wasn’t.

She was a woman; she was probably worth less then the chickens. When she did not marry, she did not bring honor to the family. At 19, no one would be willing to take her as a wife. Before now, she was fine with that. The only person who she had been willing to give herself to, was Elric, and that was back when she was young and wishful. When that didn't happen, she was completely okay with living as she did. She loved swordsmanship, hunting, and farming. It was carefree, and it was fun. She did not need a suitor to make her happy, nor felt obligated to follow society’s standards.

She was naïve, hiding under her fathers wing.

He was gone, and she could only do one thing; conform. Be a good female, and submit to Kain.

The searing pain of her back screamed for her to stay still, but she willed herself up anyway. She grunted, forcing herself into a sitting position. She then pulled out the dagger from her thigh holster. She stared at it, the metal glinting in the sunlight from the entrance. It was her father’s first gift to her, when she turned 12. To help protect herself, he said.

She brought the dagger down across her palm, a clean line of blood leaking. She pressed it against the wood of her old friend, the elm, eyes determined and lips pursed.

“By my father’s name… I will never conform.” Her voice was soft, crackling midway. She kept her hand pressed against the wood as blood seeped from her hand. “By my name, I will never conform.” This time her tone was stronger, more like herself. And now, she felt a little more like herself, despite the void that was inside her. But, she would not give up. It would dishonor her and her father.

The sound of cracking made her jump, her body protesting hard against the movement as her back tore open again. Blood streamed down her back, making her wince as she looked over to what made the unnatural sound.

It was the egg.

It moved slightly, lines webbing across the shell. She stared at it, her jaw dropping as a little lavender claw poked out. She quickly righted her jaw and stared as more claws poked out, then out pushed a white paw. The scales shone, as if it captured every ray of light in the dimly lit hallow. From there, the shell fell away piece by piece. There lay something she knew existed, but was so rare no one in her city, or even travers, had ever seen.

It was nothing else but a Dragon; it had four strong sturdy legs, the front two more thin and arm like, two wings sat on its back, and a refined long tail that swished back and forth. Its pure white scales shone like fresh snow, and it had lavender tint on the skin of its wings, claws, back spikes, and eyes. Those eyes… Stared at her, its little muzzle opening to show a line of sharp teeth, as if it was smiling.

This couldn’t be real.