Silverscale

Red is the new dawn, red is the fall leaves, red is the anger
Silverscale climbed onto the top of Yarrow's lair to wait for him. The embers of a dull, burning anger long nursed stirred within her. She had come back from the Scarred Wastelands, her scales still caked with dust from the journey back, triumphant over a trade, only to find her entire family, lying battered and bloody and broken on the floor. She reached a trembling claw towards the grisly tableau, almost afraid to get too close, to destroy the fabric of silence.

Suddenly, she ran closer to them, spreading her wings over their bodies. She held them and sobbed as death stole their breath away. She told them how much she loved them and how sorry she was. And finally, she set fire to their home.

Her claws dug into the squelching dirt as she flew to Yarrow. She collapsed in his arms, but then she saw the shining weapons, clouded with blood behind him. Silverscale scrambled backwards. "Did you kill them?" her voice cracked with disbelief as he nodded grimly. "We are emerging into a new Age, sweetheart. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It had to be done."

She flew away then, and never looked back. She hardened her heart, made it so nobody would drive a knife through it ever again. But however hard she tried to fix the cracks her family had slipped through, they never healed.

At the lies you made me believe
The Wildclaw strutted out, smugly beautiful. Revulsion twisted her stomach. He had been so perfect at first, courteous and comforting. He brought her roses and flowers, gifts of jewelry he slipped over her neck with a tender whispered word, fragile shells he had found while walking. You are weak, she chided herself and then continuing, Weak for the dragon that killed your family.

And I said we're coming, we're coming
He would never know what was in store for him. Just like her family had never known kind, meek Yarrow would be the one to slaughter them like so many livestock.

We're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming
He came out. She pounced, her legs straining with the effort as she thrust herself into the air. Her wings fluttered like a butterfly as she drifted silently downwards. Even the air was helping her. Masking her approach.

Cut me open and I still bleed red, do your best to get inside my head
He growled in surprise, then slashed the edge of her wing. Arching backwards in pain, Silverscale clawed him along his side.

Because I'm gonna make you remember my name, and I'll be the last one you ever betray
"Do you remember my family's faces? My sweet mother, my loyal father? They sacrificed their lives first to the mob to save my dutiful sister, but she wouldn't leave them. They're dead. And nothing will bring them back."

Just wait, you'll be seeing red
Lights flashed before her, fog clouding her vision as tears streamed from her eyes, choking her with emotion.

I am the lightning, I am the rain storm, I am a soldier
Her breath rattling in her throat, the heavy, pregnant gray clouds unleashing a patter of raindrops as she stalked around him, her claw catching on one of his scales.

And I am marching into war
For my family. She jerked her claw away, watching in satisfaction as he howled, claw cupped over the raw flesh where his scale had once been.

And I said we're coming, we're coming
"Did you expect this?" Silverscale screamed, her vocal cords rough and torn to shreds from trying to cry away her pain. He stared at her, shocked by the transformation. Though he would never show it, he was afraid. She was near mad, and a mad opponent never bodes well. They will continue to fight even when they cannot anymore, throwing aside all thoughts of salvation in order to continue.

We're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're coming
He got up and charged at her, his fangs bared in a silent battlecry.

Cut me open and I still bleed red, do your best to get inside my head
She was so tired of playing the damsel in distress. While she was distracted, Yarrow plunged a claw through her belly. Her scream was cut off into a ghastly gurgle.

Because I'm gonna make you remember my name, and I'll be the last one you ever betray
A choked cry came from her, the agony too intense to bear anymore. Her mind was disintegrating under the pain, it would be better, merciful, to die now at the claw of this dragon who she had once loved.

"I want to hear you beg for your life," he growled in her ear. She moaned once in response.

Just wait
His breath was hot and fetid. She struggled not to retch. With a smooth movement practiced for weeks in front of a dummy, Silverscale drove her claw into his body. But she did not aim to hurt. She aimed to kill and avenge. Beautifully soaring music crescendoed higher and higher, the shrill, delicate sound of violins singing a song of victory.

I have worn so many faces, hiding in plain sight
"I've done it," she breathed in astonishment as he took his last breath, rattling and full of pain. "I've done it!" she shrieked to the sky. Glee lit up her still-lovely eyes as she threw her head to the sky and let the raindrops cascade down.

Your downfall
She closed her eyes then, and imagined she could hear her family. Are you proud of me? she murmured to the family that had crumbled so many years ago. Silverscale left, leaving Yarrow's corpse behind her. Her belly twinged, blood dripping to the ground with each movement. "I'll see all of you so very soon," she whispered, a smile lighting up her face.

Some dragons say that even the ones who welcome death are terrified when it truly comes. Nobody goes into the void smiling, they insist.

If that is true, then Silverscale proved them wrong.

Cut me open and I still bleed red, do your best to get inside my head
She awoke to find someone prodding her. A Fae peered at her, and the words she spoke seemed to come from very far away, as if she was in a well. Was she? She didn't remember. "Are you awake?"

Because I'm gonna make you remember my name, and I'll be the last one you ever betray
Yes, she wanted to say, but the only words that came out were Silverscale. She tried to make her mouth work, but it seemed to be locked in place. Disappointment crashed over her like a tidal wave. She wasn't with her family. She had hoped, allowed the tiniest sliver to burn among her shattered dreams, that when she had finally exacted her terrible revenge, the deities would spirit her away.

Just wait, you'll be seeing red
A cool breeze rushed over her body, and for a second she saw Starwood trees. "This isn't the Shifting Expanse," she whispered in terror before the dark gripped her in its jaws and shook her unconscious.

When Silverscale awoke, the same Fae was standing over her, her fins pricked in a motherly fashion. "So you weren't just a hallucination?" the Wildclaw mumbled. "No, my mate and I rescued you. You were about to die." These words should have done something to her. Panicked her, or maybe put her into deeper consideration about what she was doing with her life.

This little dragon had rescued her, however. Let it stand for the record that she offered a modicum of mercy to those who showed kindness towards her. So she would come with these two oddballs.

She would rebuild. She would help them.

She would survive just like she always did. And not for the first time, she wished she didn't.

The Clan of the Cereus grew under her firm rule. She personally greeted the dragons who came to their gates, kindly given by the stronger, wealthier clans. Eventually, she managed to scrape enough treasure together from the clan vault and purchase the services of a dragon named Cynthia.

Cynthia was a dragon trainer. The best around, in fact. But her ways of doing things irritated the old ones, and they began to mumble about her attitude. In an act of rebellion, the dragons who had been gifted to the clan left in a mass exodus. The few remaining could not hunt very well, and soon they began to slowly lose energy despite their valiant efforts. So ended the first three months of her reign.

More dragons joined, undeterred by Cynthia's customs. Silverscale's clan cultivated a reputation for taking in the emotionally weak and hurt, especially after sheltering Lilith, the notorious Nocturne who had led a one-dragon rampage across Sornieth.

Eventually, during the third month, a social pyramid began to emerge. Silverscale was quite bemused, to say the least. As soon as the clan grew strong enough, she had planned for the clan to be a free-for-all, every dragon for themselves. They nominated her as empress, and from then, things began to fall in place.

Her daughter Cerene, along with Cerene's mate Elara, became queens, who were directly beneath her in status.

The Moon Priestess Luna and the warriors Lilith and Cynthia formed the Council, which along with the two Queens, advised Silverscale in matters big and small.

Finally, there were the civilians of the clan, the lowest class, who were by far the minority; scientists, healers, storytellers, and those who deemed themselves too proud to become courtesans.

Every dragon damaged, broken, healing.

---

In the eighth month of the new kingdom, Silverscale grew weary. Though she had been young when she first ascended to the throne, her youth and vigor had helped her rather than hindered her. She had a fresh, new way of looking at conundrums, but now she was too weary to do anything.

Her daughter Cerene had confessed to her that in truth, she took no interest in ruling, and would rather stay with her mate Elara.