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“All the dragons you have fought at your borders are because I have called them to my location. Your parents are aware of my existence.”
For the rest of the week, those words have consumed his thoughts. He should be focusing on his sister, on her wedding, on her chance to finally escape their parents' clutches. Celebrating that she will be a Queen.
She always did deserve to be queen, more than himself or Chad ever deserved the throne. So her marriage and happiness should be the biggest thing on his plate. But it's not. His sister is walking down the aisle to her future and Morgan is descending the many stairs below the catacombs to his likely death.
Truthfully speaking, many other things are piled high on his plate that all make a wedding seem contrite in comparison. The dragons at the borders, the towns at those borders that needed to be evacuated, the towns that are now overpopulated and were already struggling with famine and poverty. If anything, the wedding sticks out like a sore thumb. A giant slice of cake placed like the main entree on a dinner plate filled with potatoes and bread. Maybe Morgan is just hungry and losing the analogy to the grumble of his stomach because he'd foregone the festivities once more to traverse into a dragon's imprisonment chamber. The smell of the food he has with him definitely doesn't help his hungry stomach.
Hours. Hours and hours of stairs, nothing but stairs and more stairs. All while carrying a plate of food he snatched from the kitchens in one hand and a lantern in the other. But that's okay, the food analogy will just have to work for now.
So, everyone has a plate before them at a dinner table. Some people only have to worry about themselves and their friends, so the biggest thing on their plate would definitely be the wedding cake. The cake is a breath of fresh air, a delicacy in their normal lives. But as the Lieutenant General and commander in charge of the troops fighting dragons on the borders, Morgan has to worry about his own life and the lives of many others under his command and protection. Nevermind the giant ass dragon and the bomb they dropped a week ago. So, the slice of cake is a nuisance contaminating the other food on his plate, getting icing and crumbs in his peas and gravy. Taking up too much space and-
“Halt! Who goes there?” Bellows the voice of an unarmored guard, stopping Morgan in his tracks as he finally reaches the bottom steps of the stairs that connect this hallway to the catacombs above. Morgan wasn't even aware there were guards down here and impresses himself to find that he apparently managed to thwart them twice last time.
Oh, right, time to bluff his ass off.
Morgan approaches the doors, which upon closer inspection, aren't iron at all. No, they're shakenium doors. The walls on either side are also shakenium. They built a shakenium room around a giant dragon. He also takes a quick assessment of the situation while channeling the authority he has to use frequently during meetings.
Firstly, judging by how the guard didn't immediately recognize his face, the guard doesn't know who he is. Secondly, the guard is unarmored but not weaponless, so this specific guard likely doesn't know what's behind the doors. Thirdly, there's probably a higher ranking guard somewhere else who does, since someone needs to feed Alex. Lastly, he's never seen this guard before, which means this guard was trained separately for this very occupation.
Only after he's standing in front of the guard does he answer the guard with a glare, squared to his full height of five foot five – which really isn't much, but Morgan knows how to make himself appear taller than he is. “Lieutenant General Morgan Sterling. I have business within that room to attend to, but while I'm down here, I plan to do a check in on the state of things.”
It comes out his mouth before he thinks about it, but it's too late now. He's gonna have to go through a whole fake check in later. Luckily, though, the guard seems to buy the bluff.
“Oh! Pardon my disrespect, Lieutenant.” The guard says, giving him a salute. His stance, sloppy. This guard must not be very trained at all. “Kinda rare to get visitors down here, so I wasn't expectin’ ya.”
Morgan listens to the guard, the slurred accent wearing his patience thin. Turns out he doesn't have to act irritated because this entire confrontation is, in fact, irritating. The guard audibly gulps, he's clearly nervous, probably sweating underneath his padded clothes, too. Maybe this conversation can be expedited if Morgan acts as dismissive as possible?
“Yes. Well, I do have business to attend to.” Morgan repeats himself, raising his lantern in the direction of the doors.
“Ya gonna feed it?” The guard asks incredulously, a surprised lilt to his voice, eyeing the plate of food. Interesting to Morgan though, this guard does know about the dragon. Inquires about feeding them. But says nothing of the potential dangers that bringing a lit flame into the dragon's cell would cause. Morgan pauses, glaring. The guard just about shits himself.
“I'm going to interrogate. While it watches me eat.” Morgan replies and finally, finally the guard moves out of his way so he can push into the doors.
The metal doors close behind him and Morgan notes that the lantern doesn't explode. Just as he predicted, they've been starving the dragon, too.
“Ah, Morgan returns.” Comes the multilayered rumble that has haunted his dreams for a week.
The lantern barely manages to light up the room, it's so massive. But it's still tiny in comparison to the dragon that resides within it. The dragon barely has any room to pace, chained to the wall farthest from the door. Oh, and the dragon. Probably the most terrifying creature Morgan's ever laid his sights upon. Dark scales, like tar. But white scaled underbelly starting at their lower jaw, ending at the tip of their tail. Horns curled like that of a rams, another smaller set of horns nestled underneath and curled around the front of their head like a crown. Massive wings with horns at the end, giant claws. Golden eyes.
Morgan steps closer and then he notices more details. Like how he can see the dragon's ribs. The dullness of their scales. The overgrowth of their horns and claws. How their head hangs low to the ground as though not strong enough to hold up their own head under the weight of their own horns.
It's just so sad. Morgan knows this is a dragon, the dragon responsible for the carnage at the borders which he is sent to fight. But Morgan can't help but feel, well, pity for the creature, actually seeing their state.
“Hello Dragon King, I bring food.” He holds the silver covered platter up in offering.
“I have not heard that name in quite a long time.”
“I did my research.” Morgan replies, placing the platter on the ground and removing the lid to let loose a fresh wave of cooked meat, gone cold now from the hours of traversing down here. Morgan's own stomach lets loose a loud growl lost to the echo chamber of a room because of the rumbling dragon.
“Well, some, anyways. It's like all mention of your kind of dragon has been erased from history books. I had to resort to myths.” Morgan grabs the bread off the platter and slides the rest of it to the dragon, placing the lantern down so he can use both hands to eat the half loaf.
“This will hardly satisfy my hunger.” The dragon says, an attempt at a curious inflection to their tone. They seem rather reluctant to accept the food, but too hungry to blatantly refuse.
“But it's better than nothing, right?”
The dragon huffs, but doesn't deny the statement. Instead, they seem to come to a conclusion while Morgan eats his own bread slowly. The dragon's chest glows and flameless heat warms the plate of food before the dragon finally eats it, much to Morgan's satisfaction.
“I'm so lucky the walls are shakenium.” Morgan points out conversationally. He was trying to see if the dragon was aware of the material more than starting a conversation, but he didn't know how else to go about it.
The dragon snorts and for a moment, Morgan entertains the idea of having to resuscitate a giant ass dragon for what could comparatively be called a pea getting stuck in their throat. Morgan almost chokes on his own bread as a result.
“That is a ridiculous name.” The dragon looks at him, deadpan, plate completely cleared.
Morgan laughs, because yeah, it really is a stupid name.
“It's named that because of its ability to absorb impact. It's why this room is basically soundproof.” Morgan explains, and then before he can stop himself, he launches into a whole history lesson on the etymology of shakenium. “It's likely why the ceiling hasn't caved under the weight of a whole kingdom atop it. But the man who discovered it was actually named Gerald Sharp.”
“His last name, ‘Sharp’ got misheard as ‘shark’ so he was referred to as ‘The Shark’ for completely unrelated reasons throughout his life, but when he discovered shakenium, he didn't get to personally name it because he actually died!” Morgan gesticulates wildly as he speaks, waving the hand around that still holds onto the remaining fourth of a loaf of bread that Morgan's stopped eating to ramble. He's aware that he's rambling but the dragon looks absolutely enthralled by Morgan's speech that he finds that he doesn't care to keep it in check like he would with anyone else.
“Yeah, he'd been murdered by his wife.” Morgan almost goes on a tangent about how Gerald's cause of death had been poison, but he shakes his head to stay on track. “Also unrelated, but then his wife, Stella Sharp, tried to capitalize on poor old Jerry's death by naming the ore ‘shark-anium’ but many people misheard her as saying ‘shake-anium’ and that got shortened to shakenium!”
“They didn't even know yet that it absorbed impacts! But when they did, the name was sealed.” Morgan slaps the bread holding hand into his free hand and shakes his head with a laugh. “Despite how ridiculous the name sounds now.” Then he takes a giant bite out of the loaf of bread.
“Are you aware that this so-called shakenium first belonged to the Fae, therefore this Gerald Sharp likely stole it from them?” The dragon offers, amused, once it seems as though Morgan is done speaking. That's pretty nice, actually. Being able to talk while someone actively listens. The only one who's ever done that for him before is Diego.
“Well, no. Because Fae are just the stuff of myth-” The dragon gives him a deadpan look and- “Oh. That's the other species you referred to isn't it?” No big deal, just the stuff of nightmares, really. No more terrifying than the giant ass dragon imprisoned underneath the castle.
“Precisely.” The dragon answers despite the rhetoric, but the confirmation is still rather frightening. Then the dragon gestures to their chains, which Morgan allows himself to get a closer inspection of. Morgan notes carvings in the shackles, which hold the dragon by their legs, neck, horns, chained to the wall farthest from the doors. The carvings are in a language Morgan doesn't recognize at all, the shackles are clearly shakenium. Though definitely much older and not much upkeep.
“Fae magic.” The dragon supplies.
Morgan is awestruck by the intricacies of the carvings and the shakenium, it's as if finding an old, buried relic or uncovering a new fact. If he could get a closer inspection, maybe he could translate the language found within the carvings.
“So, what brings you down here? Surely it was not to feed me.” The dragon asks, with a shake of their body, likely to get comfortable and lay back down. Morgan backs away to where the lantern remains standing and gives a small half shrug.
“I've been thinking about what you said all week and I did try researching, but as I said, all of it is fairytales, so I thought I'd come down here to hear history from the source.” Morgan answers, the dragon hums in reply. Pondering.
“One question.” The dragon answers.
Well that's gonna be hard, Morgan has so many questions and can only get one answer? Well, fine.
Morgan takes a moment to think about the one question he wants answered the most.
“Why did they call you the King of Dragons?” Morgan asks. The dragon in question huffs what could resemble a chuckle.
“They did not know my actual name. But besides that, they knew I could rally lesser dragons and I used that ability to destroy their kingdoms and eat their people.” The dragon speaks matter of factly, like this information is a nonchalant morning conversation starter and not that they admitted to killing an unspecified quantity of people. That this dragon is still killing people, from far beneath the surface. Morgan remembers within that moment, this dragon is not his friend. Though their relationship is amicable right now, for some reason this dragon chooses not to eat him.
Moment of existential terror passed, Morgan realizes this information actually answers quite a few of his other questions. So many birds, one stone.
“So, they didn't trap you down here to prevent you from killing. And my parents are abusing your ability to make my brother look good.” Morgan states his conclusions, the dragon simply nods a confirmation.
“Could you… stop doing it?” Morgan asks, for a few reasons. Namely a fascination on if it's a natural ability and also so that he can fuck over Chad. The dragon does not seem pleased by this query, with how their gaze narrows into a glare. Which, admittedly, is far scarier under the glow of a light.
“My life is at great risk if I do stop and I would much prefer not being slain.” The dragon replies and that just makes Morgan's blood boil with rage. That his parents are abusing this person, blackmailing them with their own life, dragon or not, mass murderer or not, effectively becoming murderers in their own right to what? Boost the popularity of the crown prince?
“The poverty and famine is all their fault!” Morgan exclaims, anger boiling to the surface and over. “Our kingdom is in economic shambles so that they can turn Chad into a hero in the eyes of the people!”
“And you are doing all the dirty work, are you not?” The dragon asks. If Morgan would guess, they almost seem sympathetic towards Morgan. But perhaps it is the rage and urge to destroy which they relate to; a gleam in their eye that should really worry Morgan, but it doesn't. Not right now.
“The need for more shakenium materials is also their fault! My sister is getting married right now as a consequence of their actions!” Morgan continues their tirade, they can't help the pacing or when they kick the silver plate clear across the room. It clatters to the floor and echoes in the room, but Morgan saw it hit the wall and not a sound was made.
“Your sister is getting married today? And you are down here?” The dragon asks, the gleam turning curious. The linger Morgan spends in this room, the more he seems to be able to read the emotions that flicker across the dragon's reptilian face. Looking past the multilayered, emotionless voice and attuned to the flicker within their eyes, the scrunch of a nose, or the curious tilt when asking a question like they are now.
Morgan takes a calming breath and nods, guilt creeping up his spine.
“Yeah, I can only come down here when the guards occupying the catacombs and dungeons have been thinned by high class events that require more security. I'm technically supposed to be there, if not as a prince, then as the Second in Command.” Morgan explains, taking a seat on the stone next to the lantern. Curious that the floor actually is stone in comparison to the walls and ceiling being shakenium.
”But she knows what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. She's also invited me to the real wedding she'll have once she gets settled into Chastity Falls, so it's okay if I miss this one. It's mostly just a show of good faith on our parents’ part, as well as a solidification of our alliance. And I'm invited to her coronation, too.” Morgan rambles, the guilt still eating him inside despite having the clear go ahead from Diego. She's the reason he even discovered the dragon in the first place, so he's gonna have to ask her about all this once the opportunity arises.
The dragon simple rumbles in acknowledgement, a sign for Morgan to continue.
“She's getting married to King Dave Dodgers of Chastity Falls to form an alliance between our kingdoms and establish a trade deal with their shakenium mines.” Morgan supplies, feeling that anger rise up again. He throws himself backwards, laying down and staring up at the ceiling.
“Ugh! And I have to go back out there and perform a fake ‘inspection’ on the guards who do a really poor job of guarding you.” Morgan continues ranting. The dragon stares at him.
“You tricked the guards into letting you in here?” The dragon asks, obviously very amused by the revelation.
“Yeah, I had to abuse authority to do so, too. Now it's gonna bite me in the ass when you kick me out. And all the stairs!” Morgan exasperates.
“You are very relaxed for a human soldier who is only meeting me for a second time. Perhaps I am losing touch.” The dragon addresses something Morgan was trying not to think about, honestly. He doesn't know why, himself. Why he's opened up to a dragon with no regard to his own safety. He's not usually so relaxed, especially not around dragons.
“You're just easy to talk to, I guess.” Morgan shrugs.
“I am a great listener.” The dragon supplies, sounding pretty smug about it.
Surprisingly when the silence settles into the room, it isn't uncomfortable. At least, not for Morgan. Morgan could probably even fall asleep here. Imminent threat be damned.
“Alex. You may call me Alex.” The dragon rumbles quietly, breaking the moment of silence. Morgan doesn't even flinch.
“Oh thank goodness, I was getting kind of tired of calling you ‘the dragon’ in my head.” Morgan laughs and then looks at Alex, the dragon, who's staring at him with an unreadable expression of his own. “Thank you for being comfortable enough with telling me. Even though I know that's not your full name.”
Unfortunately, Morgan does have to leave eventually. He gathers the plate and re-covers it, grabs his lantern, and leaves on his own terms. It's rather hard to re-summon the energy he used to get down here and past the guards, but he does, purely running on survival instinct.
While ‘inspecting’ the guards, their living quarters and station – which is poorly lacking –Morgan formulates a plan. And at the end of the inspection…
“I think I'm going to have to start doing routine check ups down here.”