One True Queen: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

55.

content warning: unethical experimention, stalking, and, uh, sharp-eyes. he's in this one. regrettably.

Way

Sharp-eyes's throne room looks nothing like the old one. I keep trying to search for something comforting, familiar, but I can't find it in the black and white tile. I look over to Gaze, wishing I could hold her talon or hide inside her strong wings from the dragon currently talking down to us. She's got other things on her mind, and doesn't seem to notice me.

"As I was saying. Everyone has a place in the Kingdom of Nyx. Precocious—you'll do just fine in my palace, I think. You've spent your whole life around power, and wealth—you'll grow into your place here, over the years. And you, Wayfinder—you stay with me." Sharp-eues waves his claw in a circular motion, and wristbands materialize from thin air on both of us. (Mine silver; Precocious's gold.)

We're not even prisoners. That's how irrelevant we are. Oh, by all the moons, why did I think this would ever work?

"What?! Did you think I was going to let you go?" he asks matter-of-factly, as though in response to my thought. Right. He can do that.

"I'll never serve you. You killed my parents!" I shout, tears stinging in my eyes. This is the dragon who ruined my life. This is the dragon who hurt them.

"No, I didn't," Sharp-eyes says calmly. How can he be so infuriating calm? Doesn't he feel how furious I am?

Wait. He didn't kill them. Why wouldn't he kill them? Isn't that what an evil dragon would do?

"Well, then can I talk to them?" I ask, trying not to forget about my anger. I hate you, I hate you, with the fire of a thousand suns.

"Maybe later. If you earn it," Sharp-eyes says after a moment's thought.

Gaze and I exchange a panicked look. Sharp-eyes waves his talon, and then I blink, an eerie chill rushing over me--and I'm most definitely not in the throne room anywhere.  I'm in some kind of bedroom.

It's nice, actually. Weirdly nice. There's a large window overlooking the kingdom, a fancy chandelier. Plenty of space—but no bed. What's that about?

What is he playing at?

I thought he was going to string me up in the dungeon and impale me with spikes. Or something. (Is that what he's doing to Mom and Dad? Vague, muddled flashes of screaming and blood rush through my head, too fast to understand.)

"Hello?" I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling I'm being watched.

Did he just want to get me out of there, so he could kill Gaze and Epiphany?

I know I wouldn't be much help. They're more than capable of defending themselves. But I still want to be down there, with my friends.

What about Precocious? Where did he go? I don't know if Sharp-eyes was telling the truth. For all I know he's dead already.

After a little wandering around, I find a drawer full of stationary, and a shelf with all my favourite scrolls. It's like it's been made for me. A perfect, comfortable prison, to live in for the rest of my days.

I pick up a small mirror off of the desk and throw it to the ground with all the force I have in me. "I hate you!" I scream, kicking it again. I want to tell it to his face. I want to stand up for the things I believe in, because for once I'm sure in every cell of my body that I'm right. (I have to be—what are my other options?)