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A child skidded across the pristine marble of the Longan Palace, their mangosteen cap flying off into the churning sea below. A group of men stood before them, clad in leather and wielding spears of steel; Draco Mortem steel, they realized.
A mist of powder pale lavender rose around the weakened one, flashing a bright magenta as the dragon was revealed. Dark pink scales, sharp, glaring eyes and bared teeth. The Lychee Dragon was here, and they were injured.
The teal gemstone embedded into their chest had cracked along a seam, power leaking out in dark rivulets. Low hisses and glares mixed with the sheer toxicity of their magic, making some of the lesser hunters cough and shudder.
“Nowhere left to run, beast.” One man approached, shoving the tip of a spear underneath their chin. The mere presence of that steel made their wings twitch, instincts screaming at them to run.
Creation be damned, they would not claim Lychee’s dignity.
“Heh.. Do I look like a blue gumball to you?” Fumes surged from the cracks along their arms, poisoned with hate and vengeance. Lychee knew that they were watching, they could see the damn orbs lurking in the shadows. Surely.. Surely the Ivory Dragon knew that it was Draco Mortem steel that threatened them.. Right?
Rage flashed in the man’s eyes as he grabbed them by the cheeks, dull nails digging into their faint scales.
“At least I have a soul.” He hissed.
“Barely.” Bright pink eyes flashed as they surged forward, sinking their teeth deep into his hand. He yelped, flailing in sheer reflex. The steely taste of blood flooded the dragon’s senses, making nausea stir in their head.
He wrenched his hand back, flesh revealed to the world as he cradled it. It would never be useful again, the poison in Lychee’s fangs would make sure of that.
“You-! You cretin!” He shrieked.
“Great Creation,” they scooted back, wing twitching uncontrollably. “You’re so loud..” They had pierced through the delicate membrane of their wing, with daggers, arrows, that sort of thing.
“I will have your head!” The man stumbled back, and one of his followers surged forward. A dagger was held in the new one’s hand, the abyss dark steel gleaming against the churning skies.
“Do your worst, mortal.” The last word was spat like poison, venomous and hateful in a way only a dragon could do. The new one scoffed, walking towards the weakened creature with a small smile.
“…For my village.” They whispered, before grabbing Lychee by their neck, poising the dagger towards their dragongem. The steel rang out against the currents of nature, a defiance of the laws of existence itself. It was a sin created by foolish mortals, the recipe passed down from the original race of dragon hunters. The tip of the dagger was pressed into the cracked seam, eliciting a sharp cry from Lychee.
“Gah-!” Their wing flapped in alarm, their tail lashing and instincts screeching in their head.
“…This pathetic farce has gone on long enough, vermin.”
That voice. Hard as stone and twice as cold, it echoed through the suddenly silent precipice of the palace.
The group raised their heads from the violet one - anger at a stolen kill rising until they saw what stood within the Ivory Palace’s gates. Lychee stirred, low whines rising as magenta met dark gold.
The Longan Dragon stood tall, clawed hands folded behind their back. They were completely still, the only hint of movement being the barest twitches of their secondary spinal cord. Their eyes, all six of them, had sharpened pupils, barely visible against their ebony sclera.
The group was quiet for just a moment, before the leader, still clutching his bleeding hand, yelled. “It’s still a dragon! It can be slain like one!” The group’s weapons were raised, and the telltale click of a crossbow being readied snapped through the air.
They sighed, gaze boring into Lychee. “Fools, all of you.” They raised their left hand, flicking their claw lazily. The one who was stabbing into Lychee’s very essence was blasted back, straight into one of the pillars. A thunderous crack shattered through the silence as the man slumped against the pillar, crimson blood rushing from the back of their head.
Lychee could feel nausea churning within them, the scent of blood, the fact that the taste of it still lingered on their tongue. They could hear the small chinks of Longan’s spine, clear and sharp as they felt a clawed hand press against their head.
“Fragility… Pathetic. You are stronger than this, Violet Dragon.” Their breaths were shallow, the mist surrounding them only strengthening as violent repulsion crept up. It was venomous, sharp and painful even to the lesser dragon. But to true supremacy, to true unchallenged power? It was merely a scent.
“I-! I-I can’t-!” They saw the arrow fly, before shattering against a golden tinted barrier that suddenly formed.
The Draco Mortem steel had split into thousands of razor sharp pieces, scattering on the marble floors.
“…And here I was going to let you leave with merely a few limbs removed.” Their voice had strengthened, as booming as thunder.
The Longan Dragon straightened, eyes flashing a bright white as they slowly moved away from their younger. The dragon orbs rose from the hidden corners and nooks of the Ivory Palace, their previously subdued grace now as sharp as marble.
“T-The steel! The dragon killing steel..! It s-shattered!” One of the lesser ones spoke, terror clear as the sun against the skies.
“You are not even worthy of the life powder running through your body…” Longan stepped forward, claws twitching as weapons were raised.
“Kill it! Now!”
Stars above, they were going to kill them all. New statues would litter the courtyard and-!
…
The leader’s heart was torn from his chest in mere milliseconds.
Longan never got their claws dirty, never. It wasn’t in their nature. Too messy, too far removed from the minimalistic perfection they obsessed over.
Yet that man’s heart was in their claw.
The eldest dragon stood tall over the flailing man, their other claw pushing him to the ground. His body thumped to the floor with a soft sound, immediately belied as the beast stepped forward, crushing his rib cage with ease.
That crunch made Lychee sick, that scent of blood made them want to hurl. The taste invaded their senses and they hated it. Great Creation, they hated it. Their hands were shaking, and their wing quivered.
Their breath stuttered, this body seemed too tight. It was crazed, it was a mad rush of gore as they looked at the body.
They turned their head away, claws digging into the marble floors.
“Lychee Dragon..” They heard Longan hum. “I want you to watch the consequences of your weakness. Remember, you brought this upon yourself.”
…
…
…
There was so much blood.
So much. Spilled all over the bodies.
Screams pitched out against their ears, shrill and horrified.
They could practically see the rush of adrenaline in their elder’s eyes.
They hated it.
They hated it.
They hated it.
“Lychee Dragon.”
Their throat was too tight, the wind was invasive against their scales.
The glinting opulence of the surrounding palace was too sharp.
They hated it, they hated it, they hated it.
A headache pulsed, their wing flapped in alarm. Trying to do something they just-! Couldn’t do.
Blood, everywhere. Across their claws, across their skin, across their wing, across their eyes, across their soul!
Blood, blood, blood, blood-!
Those things were alive, they bled. What made them different from a dragon? Lychee could see the life fade from their eyes, how-?!
“Gah.. Krk-!” Their body tightened.
A blood soaked figure kneeled before them.
The scent of blood was too strong, too sharp. The Longan Dragon was covered in it. In gore, in whatever was inside the human’s bodies.
They could feel their organs churn inside them, tightening and moving.
They choked, retching and heaving but nothing came up. Their throat ached, scratchy and raw as they continued. They were pulled back onto Longan’s lap once their gagging faded into shrill coughs.
“…Weak,” There were blossoms of crimson blood everywhere, splattered against gilded armor and soaking through delicate white robes. “As fragile as a fresh hatchling.”
They were shaking, venom dripping from their fangs and onto the floor.
“What brought this little tantrum on? Was it attention you desired?” Lychee rolled over, grasping at Longan’s robes desperately.
The dragon orbs swirled around, checking the blood stained courtyard leisurely. The mist sputtered violently, the pale pink seeming almost sickly against the stark white of the palace.
“…” Lychee heard them sigh, and a claw came to tug their hat off carefully. Their curls sprung up as Longan began to pick the debris out.
“I-!”
“Quiet.” The younger coughed roughly, their one wing flaring uncomfortably.
They could hear the footsteps of the wyvern servants rush forward, likely cleaning the gore from the palace grounds. They could feel the eyes of the staff bore into them, wondering what brought on such a massacre.
When they finally spoke, the sound was grating. “Inside..!” They hated it. Their dragon gem felt like it was shattering, their body was shaking, and they just wanted to get out of this body.
“…I will grant you this one mercy.” Longan moved their arms underneath Lychee, lifting them with ease. An order was barked to the staff, as unmoving as their palace.
“My lord..?” A nervous voice asked. Longan stopped, their gaze flicking back. A servant, young and quiet.
“What is it.”
“One of them.. H-He’s still alive..” A few had gathered around the cracked pillar, watching coldly. Lychee groaned, nuzzling further into their elder.
“..Toss it off the palace, the scent displeases me.” The Ivory Dragon didn’t even look back again, only watching as the youngest of their clan fell into sleep’s clutches.
————————————
It was pathetic. It was all pathetic.
Lychee had been attacked, brought to their very knees before the pests who had disgraced the world. And who knew the status of the other three?
But..
It had pained the Ivory Dragon. Deeply. To watch the one they had raised from hatching be brought so low.
They hated to admit it, but they had gotten carried away this night. For when they had seen that dagger pressed to Lychee’s dragon gem, they had not seen them. They had seen the hatchling that used to cling to their fur, that teased and whined beyond belief.
That was the being they had killed for.
That was the Lychee Dragon they cared for. They knew that that dragon’s essence was buried in the pitiful figure that lay on their bed. Perhaps that was why they had allowed themselves to be gentle.
A pained groan pulled them from their thought. The small immortal was stirring, their single wing flaring. Yes, they had wrapped the younger in bandages, healing the worse wounds and leaving the others to recover by their own strength.
“S..Saba..?” Magenta eyes fluttered open, weak.
The Longan Dragon wished they could ignore that call, they so desperately wanted to be immune to that single word.
No mortal would ever discover their weakness, never. For one laid here, and the other three were scattered across the world.
Never would a mortal again sully the scales of one of their kin.