A past of hopes

633 21 26
                                    

Furlan was a simple being at heart. He wished only for the kings attention. He was a knight without a dragon. He wore the red heart shaped scale around his neck. His beloved Isabella had died in a war with the free dragons three years prior. There were days he felt as if he couldn't go on.

Those days became fewer as King Levi took an interest in him. The day Isabella was slatered the King came to the rescue of the forlorn knight. Furlan recalled sitting in a cold mud puddle as the dragons fought viciously over head. To see his king fight so hard for the likes of him had raised his dying spirit.

The silver scaled king with his blue white flame was a sight to behold. Sparkling in the cold winter morning on that day so long ago, it lived in Furlan's heart. The king had ended battle quickly, forcing the rogue dragons back into their own lands. He came to land before the forsaken knight. He had bowed to the fallen Isabell, a beautiful red fire dragon. With a touch of his spiked head, the king transformed her back to her human shape. Furlan had risen with the girl in his arms.

The King lowered himself to take the knight and his fallen love home. The funeral the king laid out for all those who fell that day was glorious. It praised their strength as dragon or knight. He held the honor high for both ceremonies. Furlan, injured, had stood at his kings side to honor Isabell.

Now, years later he still stood at the kings side. He had followed the king to the castle. Had taken up a life of servitude to the king for his homage to those who had flown with him, battled with him. Furlan had transferred the love he had for Isabel to the love of his king. He swore one day he would win the king over, making the silver scaled dragon his. He dreamed of flying into battle atop the mighty beast. To have the king proclaim to all the realms that Furlan was his knight.

So, when he ran into the king on that fate filled day, seeing the servant on the mighty back of the handsome proud dragon shifter, Furlan paid the boy little heed. He barely even glanced at the nondescript being. Then the king had forced him to apologize to someone beneath that of the kings true knight. The words King Levi had spoken to the humble servant so enamored and in love with the rugged king had shattered the boys heart. He vowed Levi would not take a lesser being than the noblest of hearts, Knight Furlan was his true knight and lover. He had ran to Princess Petra to inform her of the situation.

Furlan didn't have the money nor the power the princess held. He couldn't even fight in battle since he no longer had a dragon. Petra vowed to Furlan she would not allow the lowest bred child, a boy of no noble standing to take the kings hand. She told Furlan that she would be the wedded bride and true queen to the land of Maria! Furlan had let her spill her disillusioned dream. He would kill her once the upstart of a knight was dealt with.

Furlan took to walking by the kings chambers often during the night. It was a habit he took upon his first night in the castle. The kings servant was useless, sleeping during the kings most vulnerable time. Furlan knew Erwin was an unmotivated fool. He didn't deserve the kings praise or pride.

Tonight, the first that wretched thing was to be out of the hospital, Furlan was walking the halls. He was close to the kings chambers when he heard the roar he knew well. He dreamed of hearing that cry above him as his king took him making them one. The king's true voice echoed in Furlan's heart. He had heard it cry when his Isabell died. Hearing it again tonight, filled with ecstasy, Furlan quickened his pace. He was right outside the door when the king roared his mating right. The very castle rang with his cry of power. He had taken the knight to his bed!

A fury was born in Furlan that night. A fury like none other the knight had ever known. Not even when Isabel was taken from him, had he known this rage. This boy had breezed into the kings world and stolen what was Furlan's! This nothing of a welp, had tricked their king into giving him his heart, his seed! That cry meant only one thing, the king had fathered an heir.

The land of MariaWhere stories live. Discover now