Rhythm of my Heart: A Mericcup Anthology

Dragons in DunBroch

Finally getting around to cross-posting these from my AO3. Happy reading!

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Evidently, word had gotten out that there was a Dragon in Dunbroch. She'd been strictly forbidden from going anywhere near it, of course, but there was no stopping the Princess of DunBroch when she set her mind to something. If she wanted it, she would do whatever it took to get it. They should have known that by now.

But perhaps she ought to have stayed away.

Then, perhaps she wouldn't be bound and helpless in a cell in the bowels of Castle DunBroch, and tied up with a viking invader, no less.

"How is this my fault?"

"Really? Well, if you had actually listened to what I was telling you, I'd have been able to get her out before Grimmel even got here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I definitely should have been more trustin' of a viking invader that I caught breaking into my home. Clearly the best way to meet truly honest and trustworthy folk."

"And how would you suggest I have gone about this instead? Present myself for an audience with the King, say 'hi, you hate my people, but could I ask you for a quick favour'- will you please stop squirming?"

"I'm not squirming. I'm tryin' ta get us free."

"So am I. I've almost got it, I just can't get a good grip-"

"Then let me do it-"

"I just said I almost have it-"

"We're goin' ta die of old age before you get that knot undone-"

"Well if you'd sit still, I'd be able to do it-"

"You're giving me rope burns. And is there a reason you're holding my hand?"

There was a beat, and then they both seemed to realize what she'd said. And then as quickly as their fingers had inadvertently intertwined, they very deliberately separated, a sudden flush momentarily turning both of their freckled faces rather red.

"I was not holding your hand."

"Ye definitely were."

And then, just like that, the ropes around their wrists suddenly slackened and they were able to pull free.

"Finally!" The lass scrambled to her feet.

"You're welcome."

But before the words had left his mouth, the redhead had fled the room and left the boy all alone.

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His breath caught in his throat for half a moment before his body hit the cobbles, knocking the air right out of him. He groaned, sitting up and brushing the dust from his hands, and wishing for what had to have been the hundredth time that day that Dragons had never ventured as far south as the Highlands.

Glancing back at his feet, he realized that his prosthetic had caught in a deep groove in the stone. Frowning, he ran his fingers over the gouges in the rock, and realized they were about the right size and distance apart to have come from a Night Fury – or a Light Fury. Looking around, he realized that broken and warped metal protruded from the walls, the contorted remnants of what had once been torch holders. At least one had been completely torn from the stone, and lay deformed and useless on the floor.

At least he knew he was headed in the right direction.

He was out of breath by the time he finally found his way out of the dungeons. The Highlander girl was nowhere to be seen.