The Dragons' Siege

There weren’t always Dragons in the valley. They came in, their march echoing throughout the once peaceful village, tearing down the freedom that the people had. The lush plateau of vibrant hues was now littered with grays and blacks from fallen homes and rubble from the mountain. The lively and tranquil people of Serene were now in a state of misery and fear, dreading the blaze of the Dragons' iron rods.

Azalea furrowed her brows in remembrance of the Dragon’s purge of her village. She couldn’t forget the screams of terror and despair as she watched her peoples’ freedom being ripped from their hands, homes being dismantled, lives being taken. Her eyes flared with rage as she brought down her pickaxe hard to the mountain's inner walls. The force was strong enough to send pieces of rubble shooting in different directions around her. She pictured one of the Dragons’ heads under the blow, splitting in half like a log. A small smirk began to form on her lips at the thought, but she forced a frown, remembering they were watching her. She peered over her shoulder to see one of the Dragons scanning over the rest of her section. The others picked at the walls of the cave as well, doing their best to mine as many gems as they could to fill their quota. Azalea sneered at the sight before turning back to her wall.

Hit after hit, she picked at the wall, debris falling down in streams. Each sound from the pickaxes reverberated throughout the cave, ringing in her ears like a loud, relentless bell. Azalea grunted and moaned, her arms growing weak from the day’s work, until shining whites and reds sparkled in her view. She huffed, grateful she didn’t have to dig too deep today and picked around the gems until they were free of the cave's clutches, tossing them into her box. These two gems were a bit bigger than the ones she had mined earlier. She eyed them with relief, but, no matter how pleased she was with her find, they would never be hers.

“Alright, you lot!” The Dragon watching over her section called out loudly. “Day’s over. Move to inspection.”

Sighs of relief resonated throughout the mine as they all sat down their pickaxes and gathered up their findings for the day. Azalea did so as well, although more forcefully, and began to form a line with others. She noticed that everyone had boxes filled with nice looking gems from her section. A sense of alleviation lifted her spirits slightly, thankful that none of them had to suffer today.

Their capture turned to them, eyeing them for any sign of disorder before leading them to the inspection zones. Azalea’s group followed him somberly to the entrance of the cave where the rest of the prisoners were gathered. They waited in rows as each section had their haul evaluated. Her eyes, like always, scanned the boxes to see if any were left barren. From what she could see, each of them had decently filled boxes, which was reassuring, but she wasn’t the judge of the haul.

The towering Dragon with his long, iron rod at his side roamed down the aisles of prisoners. His flaming eyes looked down at the small crates of gems, sifting through them with his hands. Each time he passed on to the next, the previous person’s tension washed away from them, leaving them in a state of ease. Azalea could see a small hint of satisfaction swirling around in the Dragon’s eyes every time someone tensed up to him. She watched with pure hatred, wanting to so desperately beat him with her box of jewels, but the fear of putting the others in danger forced her to stay put. All she could do was wait until the inspector finished so they could all return to their desecrated homes for the evening.

As the inspector came to the next person, a look of severe disapproval washed over his face. The prisoner, Leif, an elderly man, held his breath as his hands trembled in fear. The Dragon ripped Leif’s box out of his grasp and flipped it upside down, a small number of tiny gems falling to the ground.

“What is this?” The inspector asked menacingly.

Leif froze in terror, as he looked to the Dragon pleadingly. “P-please, sir, this was all m-my section had.” His words were barely audible as they squeaked out.

“All?”

“Y-yes, sir. It’s been p-picked clean”

The inspector scoffed as he nodded to his fellow Dragons. They responded by seizing Leif by the arms and dragging him to the front of the rows. The old man pleaded and wailed for them to let him go, but his cries fell on deaf ears.

“Picked clean, you say?” The inspector mocked. “Why do the rest of your section seem to have more then?”

“Please, sir!” Leif cried desperately. “I swear! It’s just my side.”

The inspector brought out his rod, a searing hot flame burst to life reddening the iron. He turned to the rows, wickedness in his eyes daring them to oppose him. “Turn your eyes this way and witness his failure.” He walked to Leif’s backside, tearing what little bit of clothing he had on his back.

“Please, no! I beg you! Put me in a different section! I’ll mine more! I promise!”

Leif’s pleas filled the air, but they didn’t have any effect on the Dragons. The inspector brought his scorching rod down to Leif’s back, pressing it on his already scarred skin. The sound of sizzling skin and Leif’s wails rebounded off the walls of the cave, echoing the harrowing agony that was invading his body. The prisoners were forced to watch in horror as they witnessed their once fellow neighbor cry in pain and torment. Azalea clenched her fists tightly around the handles of her crate, feeling the wood about to collapse under the pressure of her strength. Anger boiled within her as the smell of burning flesh filled the room like a toxic cloud. She wanted to stop this, to take the rod and bash that Dragon into dust, but, helplessly, she couldn’t.

When the inspector felt Leif’s anguish was satisfying enough, he raised the rod off of the melted skin and instructed the other Dragons to take him outside. He turned back to the terrified crowd and raised the searing rod at them. “Are there any other sections picked clean?” The crowd remained silent to ensure they didn’t feel the pain of being blazed as well. “Then let’s continue, shall we?”

The end of the work day was left with a heavy atmosphere. The usual silence was painfully apparent as everyone hurriedly walked to their homes for the evening. No one else was blazed, thank the Gods, but Azalea still felt the unwavering anger churn endlessly in her stomach. She felt sick but only because she felt so helpless. She hated this, being forced to mine for gems and jewels all for the sake of their greedy tyrant of a king. If only she could fight back, she thought, and convince the others to join her, but the defeat on their faces were apparent with their hunched backs displaying a loss of hope. That made her more furious, the unanimous decision to just give up.

Azalea walked to her dejected village, always making sure she was the last to enter it. She didn’t want anyone left behind, even if everyone else seemed to only look out for themselves nowadays. Not that she could really blame them, but there had to be at least one person among them besides herself that wanted liberation from this nightmare. She couldn’t be the only one seething with rage over what has happened in the past five years.

Five years… She thought. It feels like it has been an eternity since this horror started.

Traveling through the once lively streets, she trudged along the broken paths and collapsed buildings. The sight didn’t calm her anger, but Azalea did her best to suppress the urge to punch the stone walls. Instead, she let out an exasperated sigh and turned the corner to an alleyway, the shortcut to her home. Unfortunately, to her dismay, three patrolling Dragons turned the corner at the other end of the alleyway. She grimaced, being familiar with one of them all too well. In the center of the terrible trio was the amber eyed Dragon, Kiran, who often pestered Azalea. He chatted with his two other companions happily until he noticed her standing at the end of the alley. Anyone else would have ran from the three, but Azalea wasn’t afraid. She wouldn’t run away from such lowly cowards, who weren’t anything without their iron rods. No. Instead, she continued on walking down the alley, ignoring Kiran and his lackeys.

“Well, if it isn’t the pretty brunette.” Kiran mocked as he blocked Azalea’s path. “Not gonna bow to us?”

Azalea kept silent, glaring daggers at him. She so badly wanted to give the Dragon a good beating.

“Well, that’s no way to look at your superiors.” He said as he pushed her against the wall. “You wanna try and be a little more respectful, dove?”

Azalea’s fists clenched as she held his derisive gaze. Kiran wanted her to fear him, but she would never bend over to the likes of him or any of his fellow Dragons. She would give her life before that happened.

“Aw, don’t do that.” He said taking her wrist roughly and bringing her hand to his face. “You’ll damage your pretty skin.” He forced Azalea’s fingers to uncurl, slithering his down her palm to her forearm. “But your skin is soft no matter what you do to it, huh?” His mocking gaze held something else now, almost like he was analyzing her.

Azalea narrowed her eyes in disgust before snatching her hand from his grasp. Kiran chuckled lowly to her rebellion before slapping her hard across the face and sending her to the ground. A stinging pain had now arisen on her right cheek as her rage fumed from within her. Her head snapped up at him, that irritating smirk displayed in front of her once again.

He knelt down to her level. “You know, your eyes are almost like mine. The color is peculiar.”

She seethed at his comment. How dare he compare her to him. Her eyes were her mother’s, a soft color like the blush she used to wear. His eyes were like that of flame, a raging fire that burned everything in its path mercilessly. She was nothing like him, and her fury began to take over her as she started to raise her fist to him.

Thwack! “Agh!” Kiran cried as he grabbed the back of his head. “What in the flames was that?” His companions looked around frantically, trying to discover what had hit Kiran, until they found a tiny blue pebble on the ground. He grabbed it, standing up furiously. “Who threw this!?” He shouted, but no one answered.

Azalea was also in a state of confusion as she sat on the ground, wondering what had happened.

Kiran shot his gaze back at her, infuriated. “Did you do this!?”

“How would I have done it?” She argued. “I was in front of you.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure.” He grabbed her by her hair, forcing her to be face to face with him. “I have my eye on you, dove. Remember that.” He tossed her back to the ground and strode off in search of the pebble perpetrator.

Azalea glared in their direction as they walked off. She had hoped that it would actually penetrate them, but, to her dismay, they wouldn’t feel the wrath of the daggers she sent their way. Groaning, she got up and dusted herself off. Not that she was doing much anyway. Her clothes were already littered in dirt and rubble from the day’s work.

“You have a knack for getting into trouble, don’t ya?”

Azalea looked up to find another familiar face but a welcomed one. Everett, a true friend of Azalea’s, grinned in her direction playfully. She gave a nod in return, feeling ridiculous that she didn’t recognize the small blue pebble in the first place. Everett was notoriously known to have thrown them when he was younger.

“Says the culprit who chucked something at a Dragon.” Azalea teased.

Everett threw his hands up in defense. “What nonsense! I’m innocent.”

“Yeah, as innocent as a full-bellied snake.”

Everett chuckled and walked the rest of the way home with Azalea. She was grateful for her clever friend’s help. He was pretty much the only person left in the village willing to smile and jest like he did, and Azalea needed a good laugh from time to time. Still, there were moments she couldn’t help but let her jaded mind wonder why he was so cheerful during all this. There was nothing to smile at, nothing to joke about, nothing to even hope for, yet, Everett never seemed to be taken by all the despair and tragedy around him. That was supposed to be a good thing, but it was also a baffling one as well.

Finally, once the two reached their home, the signs of the purge were still awfully apparent, almost like it had happened the day before. The roof was caving in. The stone walls had massive holes in them that were now patched up with planks. Hell, even the door was a desecrated mess, having scorch marks and split wood. Azalea grimaced at the sight of her decaying home. She hated that her family had to live in such squallor. If Everett were not by her side at the moment, her rage would have risen to a level far beyond returning. No, she had to keep it together, especially for a certain someone’s sake.

“Azzy!” The meadow-eyed girl squealed as she raced over to her big sister.

Azalea forced a small smile at Daisy. The young girl was cute and acted as such when she was around Azalea. She patted Daisy’s head and walked her back inside, Everett following behind. The smell of carrot soup filled the house, which made Azalea’s stomach roar like a starving lion. Everett seemed to be famished as well, immediately heading towards the kitchen with Daisy in tow. Azalea, on the other hand, fought the urge to head for the inviting smell to check on her father. He sat in the same spot at the end of the room, staring at the dismantled fireplace with an unreadable expression. His face suggested that he was in a dismal state like the rest of the village, but Azalea could still see a glint in his eyes. One that had resided there long before the purge.

“Father?” Azalea called.

Rowan looked up from his long stare to now glance at his daughter. “Good day?”

Azalea shrugged. “For the most part.”

“That’s great, love.”

Silence took over the conversation, causing Azalea to see herself out of his space. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome with her father, and he seemed to want to be left alone. Besides, ever since the purge, Azalea had gotten used to her father’s absent-mindedness.

Anyway, she made her way into the kitchen where Daisy and Everett were setting dishes on the old wooden table that seemed to be the only thing in the house that hadn’t been ravaged. At the end of the room, Lila was stirring the soup on the stove. Just like Daisy’s, her honey blonde hair was braided down her back, a lavender ribbon tied at the base. Azalea always wondered why Lila went out of her way to look pretty during times like these, but, considering her past, it was no wonder Lila thought it to be right to look presentable even as a slave. Maybe she thought the Dragons would take notice of her beauty and pity her. Azalea didn’t have a hard time imagining it, since Lila didn’t even work in the mines, like the rest of them. She, like some of the other lucky few, worked in kitchens to feed the Dragons everyday.

What a comfortable task for a slave, Azalea thought. It must be nice.

Lila turned to Azalea, her eyes just like her daughter Daisy’s. “Good evening.” She said in a pleasant tone. “Did the day treat you well?”

Azalea wanted to roll her eyes at Lila for the ridiculous question, but she decided against it. Instead, she gave a slight shrug.

Lila frowned, understanding not to push for more questions. “Well, at least you’re home safe.”

My home. Azalea wanted to argue, but she kept it to herself. The sight of Lila’s tears wasn’t a pleasant one, and Rowan despised his wife being disfavored.

“I’ll go get your father. Go ahead and sit.” Lila offered as she went to fetch Rowan.

Azalea did as she asked, taking a seat next to Everett. He nudged her, making a gesture with his two index fingers by drawing an imaginary smile across his face. Azalea couldn’t mimic the expression. As she had thought before, there was nothing to smile about.

Lila returned with her father in tow, and they both sat at the table, sitting next to each other of course, and, thus, dinner began. Everett immediately slurped up his soup, devouring it like it was his last meal. Daisy picked at it a bit, stirring the chunks of carrots out of the way and taking small sips of the soup. Lila to small sips as well, dabbing at her mouth after each one as if she were some noble woman amongst savages. Rowan and Azalea, on the other hand, were in sync, taking a piece of bread and dipping it in the soup before tasting it. The scene seemed like a sweet family dinner, but, in truth, this was the only time during the day they could spend with one another before starting the day all over again. No breakfast. No lunch. Just dinner. That was all they had left, and it wouldn’t surprise Azalea if the Dragons took that away too.

“Ow!” Daisy yelped.

She clutched her tiny left palm, rubbing at the fresh calluses that formed from the day’s work. Lila quickly went to Daisy’s side to coddle her, wetting a rag to cool down her soreness.

“It hurts, mama.” Daisy cried.

“I know, my love.” Lila comforted as she petted her head.

“When will it stop?”

The question was so innocent, yet so heavy at the same time. No one at the table could tell her the truth because there wasn’t one. They didn’t know when it would stop, seeing as how there weren’t any signs of it ever stopping. Azalea pitied her step sister and wished she could just make everything bad disappear for Daisy.

“You’ll get used to it, darling.” Rowan said in a soothing voice.

Azalea shot a glare in her father’s direction, appalled he said something so absurd. Daisy was ten years old for the Gods' sakes. Not only was her life destroyed by ruthless invaders, but her childhood was taken as well. She was only five when they came. Her first memories of Serene were full of screams and fires and destruction, yet she should just get used to it? How was that fair? That was enough to set Azalea into a rage she knew wouldn’t come back from.

“She shouldn’t have to!” Azalea shouted at her father.

The room fell silent, all eyes, except her father’s, staring at Azalea in astonishment. Rowan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, but Azalea wasn’t fazed. She never backed down from anyone’s gaze, even if the owner was her father’s.

“Azalea, I suggest you mind your words and tone.” Rowan warned. “There are eyes and ears all over the village.”

“I don’t care about any of that bosh!” She exclaimed. “Why should Daisy be forced to be used to such grueling work at her age? Why should any of us?”

“Because this is the way things are.”

“Oh, what rubbish! Those Dragons are nothing but cowards and thieves. If we all just stood up against them, then maybe-”

“Azalea!” Rowan shouted, the rumbling of his voice stiffening Azalea’s words. “That is enough. I’ll hear no more talk or mention of a rebellion in this household.”

Azalea glared at her father angrily. She felt the other gazes stare at her, waiting for her to just give up, but she refused. It irritated her that Rowan chose to do nothing as his people suffered everyday. Before the purge, he was the man everyone went to if there was a problem. He took care of them, solved their problems, and dealt with the capital. Azalea from a very young age looked up to him as a hero, a guy who selflessly protected everyone without a care for praise or not. Now, though, everything was different. He was sitting on the sidelines, letting Serene crumble as if it was never their beloved home. It was infuriating, appalling, absolutely absurd, yet here he was, telling his step-daughter that she should be used to being a slave.

Azalea let out an exasperated sigh and stood up from the table. “Everett, you can have my share. It seems I’ve lost my appetite.” She began walking out of the kitchen to her room before her father stopped her.

“I know it’s hard to accept, Azalea,” he said, “but all we can do is be patient and hope this tyranny subsides soon.”

Azalea scoffed, looking over her shoulder at her father. “...Mother wouldn’t have accepted it.” She spoke lowly.

Rowan widened his eyes slightly before narrowing them sadly. Azalea bit the inside of her lip, realizing what she had just done. She knew mentioning her mother was a sore topic for her father, but she already said the words before she could stop herself. She began to feel terrible as her father turned away from her, so she rushed to her room, hoping to escape the guilt. Of course she couldn’t. She was even beginning to feel depressed at the memory of her mother herself.

She threw herself on her bed, groaning miserably at her clumsiness. Their days were bad enough without her being such a wretch. She shouldn’t allow herself to be so angry, but that was all could feel now. She hated the way that things were. She hated mining for gems until arms felt like falling off. She hated that her people had to suffer. She hated that they all gave up. She hated the Dragons!

…If only you were here now, mother. She thought to herself as she laid in her bed. You’d free all of us.

But no matter how much she pleaded, Azalea knew her mother would never come back. The Gods weren’t merciful like that. She rolled over and shut her eyes tightly, hoping that she wouldn’t have a restless night.