The Scar of the Dragon (Youtubers AU)

Chapter 6

"Fucking cock sucking whore!"

The wood witch gives the a glare that could probably kill if there was the right incantation underneath it, and a soft apology is muttered to the woman by the Elf King.

"Begging your pardon, gentle witch," the King whispers quickly, the dark blue eyes darting towards the prince in his bed. "My son hangs around the village men more than anyone's liking, and picked up their filthy swear words along with their trinkets."

The witch gives a sniff that she understands as she again places her hands on the deep scar on Prince Sean's pale back. Her lips smack in interest to the curve and the thickness of the knotted tissue. It's as clean of a scar that she has ever seen in her long life, though granted she has only seen two legitimate dragon scars before now.

"Your son will need to leave the village very soon to start his quest," she muses, her attention now focused on the King's regal features. "The severe throbbing from the scar will stop once he meets the others, and I assume his second heart has already been chosen?"

Robin steps out of the shadows and raises his slender arm in the air. His face slightly fearful, but clearly determined.

"It's not like I could have stopped him if I wanted to," Sean grumbled more to the mattress than anyone else in the room. "Just because he's bound to be my servant doesn't mean he isn't my - "

"For the love of your mother, and the forest, shut up for a change," the King hisses. "I am very aware that you and Robin are best friends. This good witch has said that friends are the best to be your second heart, and I trust her judgement and wisdom leagues before yours."

The prince bites back a retort, knowing that such a thing will dearly cost him later on. Instead he presses his face into his pillow as again the painful scar ripples through this muscles and bones. The fingernail of the older woman stutters across his skin as she continues to almost marvel at the skill involved in the spell-caster's handiwork.

"There are at least three others who share your son's fate," the woman says, looking at the way the scar turns to reveal certain patterns. "One very familiar to himself. Is there any other elves in your kingdom who has come to you about painful injuries as of late?"

The King pulls from his head any recent complaints from any of his subjects and comes up with nothing. He turns to others in the room and no one has anything to add to the conversation.

"Well if and when he find another sharing the curse he will know it. The scar will burn white hot and then some of the pain will subside. Once all members are found then the scar won't hurt any longer until...well, we hope that your son will succeed in his mission to avoid that horrible fate."

The King shuffles uncomfortably at the last part of the wood witch's words. Sean was a prince, and though he was prepared for battle, or even death, it was never something that the King wanted for any of his children, including his youngest.

"I'm not afraid of dying, father," Sean mentions, turning on his side to meet the worried eyes of the King. "I'm ready to take on any quest or whatever this is I'm dealing with."

"The fact that you aren't afraid of dying is part of your problem," the King mutters back. "Fear is part of being a better fighter, my son."

Robin cast the young prince a knowing look to please, for once, to not get into it with King, but is only greeted with a scowl in return. The wood witch makes a small noise in her throat as if she hadn't planned on this type of family drama in her long day trip.

"Thank you for all of your wisdom," the King, the voice as kind as he can make it, inclining his head to the older woman. He places a large pouch heavy with gold coins in he hand, and a few of the other elves lead her out of the bedroom and down the long sweeping hallway of the corridor. Outside in the nearby trees right outside of the large castle doors two elves, who try their best to cover their light colored hair with hooded cloaks. They can feel their bones beginning to ache with waiting so long for any chance of the gates opening enough to sneak into the the lower part of the royal halls to find the stooping form of a wood witch.

It's Cry who spots the woman first as she shuffles along, looking pleased with the fat pouch of what is obviously a small fortune in her wrinkled fist. Walking heavily on her cane, she will be easy to follow, and once the red hair of the forest elf is back safe behind the gate the two of hurry as a rapid pace, ready to whisper for the witch to stop and speak to them.

"No need to scamper about like snowy rabbits," she chuckles, her back still turned away from them as they approach. "Your fellow in arms is on the other side of the gate, and not in my pouch of gold coins, young elves of the mountain."

Both Felix and Cry stop, stunned at the witch. Perhaps she had true eyes in the back of her head, or even something more terrifying.

"I'd announce your scar," she continues, her milky blue eyes on Felix's right shoulder. "That will stop King Liam from throttling you before giving you a chance to speak. It's his youngest son who shares your fate."