The stars are very beautiful yet they only sing of lost freedom.

                                                                               - Lazyredragon

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The surly faced lad glared at all that was before him, damning it to hell. The stench of rotting flesh, roasted meat and unwashed pits were all known and very much unwelcome by his nostrils, as well as the angry banter that filled every crevice in that cursed dungeon.

"That him?" he heard one say.

"Aye, torched a whole platoon to dust,"

"He don' look like much..." another grumbled, glancing up at the cage he was held in.

"Where's his scales and wings? The boy looks nothing like a beast!" he went on, the lad spared him no glance looking straight ahead, never flinching, never moving, ever stoic like a marble statue.

Still, he listened all the same.

"They tucked away, good thing too, that cage wouldn't fit him otherwise."

"Why?"

"Enchanted bars, if he tries to break through them he'll be in a world of agony,"

The lad growled, the searing brands on his arms itching at the memory.

The stupid cage burned him when he tried to shift,

"Pity, he's a pretty one... tall, gruff. Looks like he can take it hard and give it hard, wouldn't mind it either way..." he heard them clear as day resisting the urge to wretch.

He did not move. He would not move not for anything nor for everything, he wouldn't dare seem weak; choosing instead to focus on another part of the cesspool that was this dungeon.

"Kinda tragic really," their voices were distant now but he held on straining just a lick further, "I hear his sister sold him out."

"Its always family..." the third one sighed almost feeling sorry for the caged lad, he sighed shutting his eyes in agreement.

It was always family.

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He had begun the day as he normally would.

Awake at dawn standing at the edge of the cliff at the end of his castle wall, vines littered with orange flowers their sweet scent a comfort to him as he gazed at the sun, the yellow eye peeking at the edge of the horizon staining the purple sky with shades of red, it was his favourite time of day.

He slipped off his shirt letting the cold morning breeze whisper promises of a great day ahead as he ran diving off the edge.

The ground was fast approaching the jagged rocks sharpened by the tide gleaming as the ocean waves crashed around them, his hair fanned out in wisps of black as his eyes focused forward, he was looking into the eyes of death.

He smiled.

Massive wings unfurled at his side beating up against the morning breeze catching a warm current and soaring up to the clouds.

Up there he wasn't anyone, just a speck in an endless void of ocean mist and sunlight, it was his greatest joy for no one else flew that high or that early, alone with his thoughts away from the war.

Their army was fighting and though they were the mightiest of beasts the dragons had met their match, a human no less.

He had received word of the Mad Prince Blaine heading their way laying waste to all that stood in their way and met the man head-on.

He was smart in war but this prince was unlike anything he had ever seen, a human prince and his army were fighting a dragon and his own and still a winner remained unseen, both were losing men but Prince Blaine had him beat when it came to numbers, he sighed remembering the prince's terms for a truce.

"A child of the crown or death to your army."

"At least he's direct." he thought.

He landed at his sister's balcony her door open as it always was, they rarely saw eye to eye on many things but on this, they agreed.

They would end the Mad Prince Blaine and all that came after him, it was the first thing they had agreed on in centuries and perhaps this war, though difficult, would finally mend old wounds, he smiled as he walked past the door before a heavy-weight struck the back of his head.

He didn't react his body falling as he hit the ground, the vision at his sides were dimming and the gentle touch of unconsciousness beckoned as he stared up at his sister wearing a blank face, impassive as always and though they looked exactly the same black hair, green eyes fair skin with bits of scale, not one emotion ever shone in her face, just a grim expression and the occasional sneer.

"People come first brother mine and I hear he prefers men," she had whispered walking away as he fell into slumber the sound black heels clicking on a polished marble floor ringing in his ears.

A child of the crown would be given, a truce would now be struck.