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Hydrus, The Consort The Dragon

"To fall, for that is the ending of all heinous beasts. Down went the tyrant dragon! Struck true, did the Holy Sword of The Knight, the beast; slain! Evil cleansed! Alas, the kingdom is safe! Rejoice! Rejoice, we did! Justice, he was. Justice, we praise! The Dragon is no longer."

Awareness trickled away with each scarlet drop. Shadowy beast, bound in heel by iron snares, lain across splintered boards for all to see. Its heads slumped at the side; one bowed, the others fruitlessly strained maw against leather muzzle. Metallic tang nuzzling into gaps of its gums, it knew; too impure to be of ichor - too accursed to be of man: Its blood lapped at by its sandpaper tongue.

Could this suffice?...

Detached inquiries fail to recall where things began. An eye upon the west-faced head creaked open, liquid gold staining obsidian fur. A blinding radiance burned above, misplaced thunder rumbling at the air. Applause, it remembered. Delayed, but named.

Was this Tartarus?...

Limbs long-since numbed of sensation, frigid muscle chattering against bones. Spasms herald to a dying will. Its once-prized pelt rendered to display. Vulnerable to... this. Blood gushing from its heaving chest, faded might clung to trembling ribs. Acidic churning in its guts eating away at its lungs - one breath, then a second, and...

'A moment more, then we shall rest...'

"Oh, but the beast looks so pained. It stole only cattle. Is death truly a fitting punishment?"

Wayward gaze drifting to the speaker, blobs blurred in the glistening heat. Masses of... mass?... Thoughts slip. A touch of pressure ghosts beneath its open eye, fingertips curling in honey-colored tears. Satisfaction riddles the hum of its collector.

"Such beautiful eyes. No, this won't do. I, your king, declare this beast my own. It is of no harm to you, my people. I shall confine it, and it shall never steal from you again."

... ...? No...

Slender claws hover above the odd amulet collaring a beaded throat. The trinket fades out of reach, melting into the hardened shell the beast awoke in: Sorcery of some kind, it assumed. Simply another cursed aspect of 'its'... body. Three minds reduced to one without scars. Spider-like appendages broken straight within new mold. Caged in a humanoid coffin.

The (???) reached for its face. Its horns. Its teeth. Its throat. Its chest - where it stopped, dazed at the gashes lining the newfound... husk? Wounds from its own body marred the ivory surface. Chest sinking with its sigh.

"Thy beauty... Thou art magnificence, My Consort."

Its tail flicks, and it rolls onto its side. Unconcerned with perceived nudity: its gaze meets the observer; a silk-adorned 'royal' with a blazing grin. Golden crown crooked upon his head, his gaze skimmed along its body, eventually returning to its face.

"Con... sort?...." It asks. The grin upon his face fell a fraction, swiftly rising again.

"Why yes! Thy role hath changed~ New script, dear." The man crossed the wooden floor, heels clattering in his haste. He joins the disgruntled hydra at the bed, hands slotting near its thighs. It pulled away from his intrusion. Slumping into the mattress below, flashing its fangs, The Dragon snarls.

The stranger flinches, momentarily rattling off native phrases. Ones foreign to itself, though heard enough to associate.

"Be at ease," he croons, "It was I, Crownus, who saved thee." Not spared. Saved?... Unraveled by statement, the hydra's lips clamp shut. Eyes narrowed, teeth clenched; restraint quelled the instinctive scream telling it to maul him. "Forgive Knighter, My Knight defends my - our - kingdom~ Just as thou guarded thy nest, dear."

Two voices bellow in discourse; the speaker cowers, and is shoved away by something older.

"Thou cursed me." Accusation. The death of curiosity was blame; Crownus smiled at it. A knowing glint swirling in his eyes, he withdrew his presence, and straightened his posture.

"Nonsense~ Beauty, I hath bestowed thou a chance~ Art thou not tired of playing beast? Of scars, assault, and blame?" He gestures across its figure; to the gashes, burns, and holes - a sword, a torch, and pitchforks. Tools of warding. "Or..." Feigned mindfulness fills his languid hum, eyes squinting. His gaze fixes onto the beast's visage: silence flattens his smile.

"Perhaps thee... sought The Reaper?"

It's pitiful how the youngest bawled inside its mind. It scoffs aloud, teeth gnashing. Offended! It was not some desperate widower without their bride. No, it cared naught for a shameful end. Slain? Foolish! It had fought; brute and bane, it was, as The Dragon's role decided it to be. It didn't lose, it--

'The Dragon's role begets defeat.' Hushed, it is brushed aside.

"Perhaps," Hydrus agrees, observing the tension rise in Crownus' shoulders. Neither amused nor bemused, she raises a polite smile. "Enlighten me of thy vision. Entice me, or I shall claim thy crown."

For a single, brilliant moment in that little, button-sized brain of his, Crownus seemed to acknowledge the weight of her casual declaration: his eyes blew wide. Stunned. And, for an even shorter second, Hydrus' smile is genuine. That is, until he laughs, dismissing her statement with a wave of his hand - the way he would a servant girl.

"Thou shall be a witness, submissive wife, and envious wretch. The jewel to my arm." He extends the hand that discarded her; her fangs rattle in the shadow of her strange husk. "No gaze for any other: The Consort."

Not The Dragon. Not Hydrus. Those are nothing to The King. He chose his favorite. There is no remorse, least of all from her, as she accepts his hand; the foolish man grins when she squeezes.

"O' King, to thee, I am nothing." For now, The Consort shall humor him. "Doth thou assure my safekeeping?..."

"Indeed~ The audience shall adore thee, My Consort. Let us bury thy villainous past."

[The Crane and The Eel] + [Masterlist]

(Am I the only one who pictures Crownus as the "royal blood" king from Black Clover? But like... slightly smarter?)

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