A Court of Dusk and Dragons

1

A group of seven stalks through Rifthold. The Summer Soltisce. Once six of them would have been flying through the skies and taking in the rays of the sun but now magic was gone and it had them stook in their human forms. The seventh, however, was not like the six. She was obviously the leader, despite seeming to be the most vulnerable of the seven and being in the company of four extremely dangerous looking males. She hid her face under a blue hood and seemed to be wealthy. She wore tan suede boots, polished until they shone, and simple black pants. Her shirt was a mere scrap of white silk, and though it hid her skin, it was tight enough to show of her curves. Then there was the cloak, black with silver trims. But there was something that passerbys didnt notice and that was the fact that she was armed to the teeth, daggers and throwing knives were hidden beneath her pants, in her shoes and swords were hidden beneath her cloak. The others dressed more simple. The males wore brown boots, black pants and a white shirt over which there was a black cloak. Despite being dressed similarly to the female in the lead, they radiated masculine strength and wealth. The other females wore dresses, the one on the left wore a purple dress, speckled with white spots. The female on the right wore a blue dress, also speckled with white spots. Both wore black cloaks which concealed their features. Theres a mutter as a wave of power sweeps over them. The female in the lead glances at her hand, beneath the cloak, shadows swirl around it. She turns to her companions who all stare at each other wide eyed but one of the females attention is on the castle. Fire and ice clash on one of the glass bridges.

"Aelin." the lead female breathes. Shadows, darkness joined the battling powers, not hers.

"We cant go there." one of the male hisses. The lead female steps forward. "Fisrae."

"Aelin is my friend." Fisrae growls. Then light and after a while nothing. The small group pauses and stares, hardly daring to breath. Then the glass castle shatters. "Go!" the six seem to know what to do instantly as they run forward and suddenly, its not humans but six dragons, flying into the air. There are startled cries from the citizens and Fisrae herself shifts, into a maned wolf, and runs towards the castle grounds, towards that wave of glass. Her long legs allowing her to go faster. She puts up a shield around herself to stop the glass as she bolts for the grounds.

***

Four of the six stop by the iron gates and hover before a wall of flame erupts before them. They feed it. Allow the person who created it to draw on their power. The other two sail for the two figures falling from where they stood on a glass bridge. They seem to be falling more slowly as if the wind was trying to stop their fall. The two dragons fly underneath the figures and let them land in their backs before extending their wings and letting themselves float slowly to the ground where Fisrae awaits them. She shifts back and watches them land before hurrying to pull down the two figures, three figures actually, from their backs and laying them on the grass. The two shift back, their cloaks are gone to reveal a white haired, grey eyed male and a red haired, blue eyed female. They both have dragon wings, smaller than in their dragon form, on their backs along with slightly pointed ears and elongated canines. Was it not for the wings, you could have mistook them for Fae. Fisrae sighs in relief. The other four dragons circle above the castle grounds. There was a groan, from Aelin as she pushes herself up. Fisrae and the other two stay silent. Aelin doesnt react to them as she forces herself to walk towards the wall. Towards the panicked city below. Towards the new world that beckoned. Fisrae and her two dragons follow, then three more people join them. Aedion, Fisrae recognizes and she inclines her head at the three. The Queen of Terrasen punches a battering ram of blue flames through the wall. More yelling arises as the flames eat away at the glass, forming an archway. The people beyond, crying and holding one another or gripping their heads or covering their mouths, go quiet as the group stride through the door. The gallows still stand just beyond the wall. The only raised platform in sight. Better than nothing. Aelin ascends the butchering block, her court falling into rank behind her. One of them was limping. Fisrae stands further away, two of the smaller dragons, a brown one and a blue one settle on the glass wall. A black one and a gold one continue circling. The queen keeps her shoulders back, her face grave and unyielding as she stops at the edge of the platform.

"Your king is dead." she says. The crowd stirs. "Your prince lives."

"All hail Dorian Havilliard." someone shouts down on the street. No one else echoes it.

"My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius." she continues. "And I am the Queen of Terrasen." the crowd murmers; some onlookers step away from the platform. "Your prince is in mourning. Until he is ready, this city is mine." Absolute silence. "If you loot, if you riot, if you cause one lick of trouble." she looks a few in the eye. "I will find you, and I will burn you to ash." Aelin raises a hand, and flames dance at her fingertips. "If you revolt against your new king, if you try to take his castle, then this wall-" she gestures with her burning hand. "will turn to molten glass and flood your streets, your homes, your throats." the queen lifts her chin, her mouth cutting a hard, unforgiving line as she surveys the crowd filling the streets, people craning to see her, see the Fae ears and elongated canines, see the flames flickering around her fingers. "I killed your king. His empire is over. Your slaves are now free people. If I catch you holding on to your slaves, if I hear of any household keeping them captive, you are dead. If I hear of you whipping a slave, or trying to sell one, you are dead. So I suggest that you tell your friends, and families, and neighbours. I suggest that you act like reasonable, intelligent people. And I suggest that you stay on your best behaviour until your king is ready to greet you, at which time I swear it my crown that I will yield control of this city to him. If anyone has a problem with it, you can take it up with my court." she motions behind her. Her three court members - bloodied, battered, filthy - grin like hellions. "Or." the flames wink out of her hand. "you can take it up with ne." Not a word. Aelin strides off the platform, back through the gate shed made, and all the way to the barren hillside to the stone castle. Shes barely inside the oak doors before she collapses to her knees and weeps. Fisrae and her dragons move back and wait for the others.