The Dark Prince's Bride (the original version of Will You Love Me?)

Prologue

In the kingdom of Anoria, there stood a forest. Redwood, it was called because the leaves of the trees were always red... even in the bitterness of winter... even in the warmth of summer, as it was now. There was something dark and fearsome about the forest. The tree trunks were black as though they had been burnt, and the red leaves, though beautiful, made the forest seem almost dead.

The forest lay on the border of Moronia, a volcanic wasteland that had nearly killed the trees. But by some strange power, they grew still. Evil seemed to lurk in those trees. It was as though rather than being killed by fire and smoke, the trees had absorbed it and turned it into a deadly poison that filled their sap. Even the leaves and wood itself were deadly.

The Anorian soldiers trembled in their boots as they marched between the blackened trunks. Their eyes flitted between the tree trunks. They were here in pursuit of a group of dark knights... knights whom many deemed to be unnatural.

The men had their swords drawn and pointed them with shaky hands at every sound. Every rustle of the leaves in the wind, every snap of a twig.

Suddenly, from the smoke they spotted the silhouette of seven figures... not quite man, not quite beast. They jumped back in fear as the seven dark forms appeared before them. All of them were clad in black armor. They looked not to be mortal men, but dragon men. Their bodies looked like men, but their faces were those of dragons, and they were covered in scales and spikes. They wielded a variety of deadly weapons: swords, mace and chains, lances and blades. 

The figure in the center stood head and shoulder above the three warriors on either side of him. He seemed to be the leader, as the others followed slightly behind. He stepped forward, his cloak flitted behind him like the wings of a dragon.

The soldiers didn't need to ask him his name to know who he was. They all knew the tales of the dragon warrior clad in scales, cloaked in dragon wings. Beneath his hood, they saw the terrifying face of a black dragon, with horns and dark eyes. He was Dragoth, the most feared of all their enemies... save Obsidian.

"Leave now, and you shall be unharmed," Dragoth spoke to the soldiers. His voice deep but smooth.

The Anorian guards were ready to flee for their lives, but their captain, Isaac, stepped forward. "Surrender now and you shall be unharmed."

"I cannot surrender," Dragoth replied.

"Then you have chosen death," Isaac replied.

"Nay, it is you who has chosen death," Dragoth replied.

Isaac charged towards the dragon knights, brandishing his sword. His men followed him, despite being filled with terror in the midst of the creatures that stood before them.

The Anorian warriors clashed with the dragon knights. Though the Anorian warriors greatly outnumbered them, they were no match for the dragon warriors.

Five warriors charged upon Dragoth. He swung his sword in a wide arch, slaying three of them with one strike.

He swung his sword once more, striking the man who lunged forward to attack him. Just as soon as he had slain the first did another man approach. He charged towards him, a club held over his head, ready to bring it down on the knight's head. Dragoth stabbed him just before he could bring his weapon down to slay him. As his sword pierced through the man's armor, crimson blood stained the man's deep blue tunic. The symbol embroidered on the warrior's surcoat only brought back the memory of Dragoth's home; a place he could never return to. Images of his childhood... of the mother he loved so dearly filled his mind. He closed his eyes to be rid of them... he could never go back to her.

Dragoth turned his attention back to the surrounding battle. He fought fiercely to keep most of the warriors away from his companions.

As the battle continued, death surrounded him. Crimson blood soaked into the charred ground, and the bodies of his slain enemies were strewn about in his wake.

He tried to block out the terrors of war, as he always did. He allowed his mind to drift into daydreams of the beautiful maiden that filled his dreams. His mind was filled with images of her dancing gracefully and the sound of her beautiful singing. A kinder soul he knew not.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the trees, pulling him away from the beautiful images that filled his mind and back to the stark reality of the place he stood.

"You wear the faces of dragons to strike fear into the hearts of my men, but there is no fear in me!" a voice called out across the battlefield.

Dragoth peered through the trees to see the captain of the men-at-arms that he and his knights were fighting. His heart lurched as he saw the boy in the captain's clutches. He clad in black armor, his face covered by a helmet that resembled the face of a dragon.

"And I will show my men not to fear you either," the captain said, removing the boy's helmet. "You see? Nothing but a boy!"

"Let him go!" Dragoth shouted.

"No." The captain drew his sword. "I will show you what happens to traitors who betray the throne for Drake."

"No!" Dragoth yelled. He would not let harm befall any of his knights. One of his dear brothers had already fallen, he couldn't bare to lose another. Especially not Amphithere; or Christopher, as he had been named at birth. He was the youngest, the one Dragoth had known the longest. He was just as much a son as a brother to Dragoth, as he had raised him since he was but a small child.

Dragoth stepped forward."Take me in his place."

He removed his helmet and threw it to the ground. Though he had been terribly scarred and burned, the captain recognized the long-lost prince. He was almost the spitting image of his mother, Queen Mea. He had her dark gentle eyes, and her long curly black hair. Furthermore, he was tall with broad shoulders like her father, King Armon of old. But his nose and the shape of his face had been sculpted the same as his father's. Neither the king nor the queen could deny that he was their son, even though he feared they probably wanted to.

"Drop your sword," the captain ordered.

"Release the boy first, and promise that he and my other knights will be allowed to leave unharmed," Dragoth replied.

The captain released the boy, pushing him forward.

Dragoth nodded affectionately to the boy, whose eyes were filled with tears. "Be strong and take care of each other."

They all nodded. Then hanging their heads as they turned to leave.

Dragoth dropped his sword to the ground.

The captain stepped forward, glaring at the prince. Without warning, the captain punched him in the face.

Christopher lunged forward to defend him, but two of the older boys grabbed his arms to stop him.

Dragoth only turned back to face him, showing no malice. He knew he deserved whatever treatment he would receive. The only thing that mattered to him was knowing that his brothers were safe.