The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 1

George POV

Rain dripped from old stone pillars, rolling over deep green foliage to ripple across growing puddles. The chill rising from wet earth penetrated his bones, forming aches in his muscles despite his blossoming youth of twenty. 

It'd been three years since the night he'd witnessed his best friend, boyfriend, turn his claws on the kingdom. Scarlet washed the throne room, whispers filling the castle for weeks. George's heart had been frozen in stone that night, unable to let anyone in again. He'd never understand why the dragon prince and king had attempted to murder his father, breaking the centuries of peace between dragons and humans.

Humans out populated dragons, but where they lacked numbers the dragons thrived in unbeatable strength. Contrary to their species, only royal bloods still possessed the ability to fully shift into massive dragons. Due to this fact, many lived peacefully as regular citizens and only those capable of wielding more powerful Secondary Forms served as warriors and guards.

Warriors protected the kingdom from the outside, taking up posts around their borders and providing strength in war. If any of these dragons displayed greater skill, they bore an opportunity to be selected to serve the castle directly. The warriors who achieved that feat were called guards. 

He shifted his shoulders against rough stone, one leg hanging over the window edge. He gazed into the dark of lurking night, barely making out the clear droplets pattering down. His father's voice drifted down the hall, deep in conversation with the guards.

George knew he should be listening in, but he couldn't conjure the energy to leave his spot. He'd been returning to his private quarters after dinner when a messenger arrived. When Dream fled that night three years ago, he'd only taken a handful of the dragon warriors. Now, one of the king's finest dragon warriors had been found murdered in the break of dawn.

"That will be all, return to your posts." King Henry ordered, his voice deep with authority.

George tore his attention away from the rain, watching his father approach where he sat on the window ledge. Behind the king, the guards saluted and marched neatly away. 

"I've doubled the night watch," King Henry murmured. "You need not worry about sleeping safe."

George hummed, gazing into his father's deep blue eyes, the color identical to only one of his own. Where sapphires sparkled in dark ocean waters, melted chocolate provided soothing warmth. His brown eye came from his mother, who'd passed when he was a baby. For that, he cherished the mocha hue that held even the smallest bit of her.

"Any word on the killer?" 

"No." The king's forehead knit, tension creasing his features. "There's not a trace of another's presence. Sir Eret was killed in his own home, with not a scratch on the lock of his door. No broken windows." 

Chills clawed down the brunette's spine, whoever had done this knew what they were doing. George bit his lip, voicing his nagging suspicions. "You don't think... you don't think he's back?"

Blue daggers shifted attention onto him. "Three years of silence from that traitor, it'd only be well due for him to make a move."

George took a deep breath against the shift of Earth's axis. "But... what has he to gain? Most dragons remained loyal to the kingdom, they won't follow him. Heir or not."

"Power, revenge, who's to say." King Henry puffed out a soft breath and turned away. "It's growing late, we can speak further upon daylight. Sleep well son."

"Goodnight father." George's gaze trailed the king, silently praying his father was wrong.

Thunder crackled in the distance as he made his way to his bedroom, the shadows growing over the castle corridors whispering dark tales of warning. The nerves bit deeper and deeper into his spine, until when an hour after he'd bundled into piles of fluffy sheets, he was convinced.