The eternal suffering

DIR(7): traditional genetics

(A.N:// random Gwen art :) Because I finally drew again after weeks of nothingö. The colors are off btw, because every screen i work on makes it look different and it is EXHAUSTING)


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The dragon attacked them. Try and describe it any other way and you'd come up empty. (Believe me, I tried.)
The dragon screamed a blast at the knights who barely managed to dodge the fire that was send their way.
Ciril may be small, but that only made them faster. More agile. Flexible. Their long body made it hard for opponents to pin point their vital points.
Especially, since the knights weren't familiar with the anatomy of dragons.

Gwaine immediately jumped back into the boat, trying to gather his sword. Then he threw the remaining weapons to Lancelot and Elyan.
Both caught the weapons easily, barely managing to shield Sir Leon from the attack.
Shielding was probably the wrong word.
They dragged Leon by the arms out of the dragon's reach and counted on Gwaine to distract him.

But Ciril's eyes flashed a bright gold, which blinded them in the darkness of the cave,
The ground beneath them turned against them. Chains of earth and vines rooted them to the ground and made them yelp.
Gwaine managed to roll his way out of the vine's reach and jumped at the dragon. He was their very last chance to create some damage. Of course, he was doomed to fail.

Ciril roared once more and a blast knocked Gwaine against the next wall. A loud rumble made Lancelot and Elyan cover their ears with their hands. The raised arms made them vulnerable and stripped them of their chances to land another blow. Because the vines raised up to their waists and held them in place like that. Swords clattered against stone, as the vines pressed into their flesh enough to let them loose their strength. They lost their control over their hands and muscles.

"HECTOR!", the dragon growled again and roared in Leon's direction.
Their voice was deep. But somehow sounded painful. Sorrowful. Not that the knights had time to examine the voice or interpret their intentions. There was no fire in that roar. Nor was it a blast, as it had been against Gwaine.

"Answer me, you liar!", Ciril growled again and finally managed to evade both Elyan's and Lancelot's attempts to defend their unconscious friend, which was quite easy for the dragon. Especially since the two men could barely move their heads against the vines.
But then they both stopped in confusion. Finally noticing how the dragon's voice merely shifted and broke and that the creature wasn't focusing on them at all.
The voice was full of mirth. Regret, fear, worry, hatred, a strange sense of longing even. None of which made sense.

The breath they roared at Leon's face didn't even singe the knight's blond hair. And a sob escaped the dragon's lungs.
It was a swirl of emotions that illuminated the cave for a moment and turned to grief.

Gwaine, Lancelot and Elyan exchanged helpless glances, as they lay were they had been knocked down or stood where they were chained. The dragon was small. So tiny. They were three against one. And yet, they didn't stand a chance against this tiny thing.
The tiny thing that barely acknowledged them. Because they were occupied with the one man of them who wasn't even trying to defend himself. Not that he had a choice.
Just how on earth had Uther Pendragon expected them to defeat these creatures?

Suddenly, Ciril stopped. Their voice caught in their lungs as they examined Leon's still beating heart. "He's alive?"

They lay their head on Leon's barely heaving chest. They sounded surprised, which almost gave the remaining knights a heart attack. Was Leon SUPPOSED to be dead? What did they know about Leon that the knights didn't? He had been sea sick! Nothing more! Why would he die from that? He would be fine, if they let him rest. Right? RIGHT?