𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 | ❝Hope is good, Hope will never disgrace, but make no mistake, Hope will hit you in the face!❞
In which the Just King becomes betrothed to a princess from a neighboring kingdom, only to fall in love with the prin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
EITHER DRAGONS WERE BIGGER babies than the fables led on, or this was just Eustace Scrubb on a normal day in a not-so-normal body.
His scales glimmered, even under the twilight sky, a deep shade of gold, the same way jewels looked darker than they were beneath the sea's surface. His cerulean eyes were narrowed, smoke huffing from his nose, as he impatiently nipped and clawed at the gold cuff stuck to his front right leg.
Edmund observed him with a look between relief and disbelief. He was just glad his cousin was alive, honestly. "He must have been tempted by the treasure," he said.
Odette raised an eyebrow at the cuff that was too small and tight for his limb. "Could've picked something classier, at least."
"Everyone knows a dragon's treasure is enchanted," Hope mumbled, louder than she realized. The dragon huffed irritably at her. "Well, everyone from... here." As Lucy stepped forward to gently remove the cuff from his leg, Hope added, in an attempt to save herself, "Dragons aren't even natural to Narnia, actually, if that makes you feel better. Oh, and your asthma's probably better now that your lungs are bigger!"
"That ought to teach you not to stick your nose where it shouldn't be," Odette scolded. Eustace stuck his snout in the air in retaliation.
"At least he can't... talk," Edmund said, but he still cringed. "Is there any way to change him back?"
"Not that I know of," Caspian admitted. "Any ideas, Hope?"
"You could... try un-stealing the treasure?" Hope suggested. "Or... ask the original dragon for forgiveness?" She looked to Caspian and Drinian, who both shrugged uncertainly.
Edmund sighed. "Aunt Alberta will not be pleased."
Eustace Scrubb was a bratty blabbermouth with less manners than he boasted on about. But still, he was a Pevensie. As much as the crew argued against it, their kings and queens decided to spend the evening on the shoreline and conjure a solution that didn't result in abandoning Eustace the Dragon entirely. The rest of the crew would take the night off on the Dawn Treader—and pray they didn't have to share a bed with a dragon the next evening.
Once Eustace deciphered the technique of spitting fire, sleeping on the beach wasn't so bad. The tides still slapped melodically as they pulled away from the shore, cold waters softening the sand in their recession. The air was cooler here, the sky clearer. Even the stars arranged themselves in entirely different positions. Lion's Mane, how far from home were they?
