1
ALLY
Handcuffs can be fun. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good romp around the kink room. But magical handcuffs areneverfun—and I’m in a set of those now, as I come to from unconsciousness.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out; when I wake, I’m in prison, though a nice one as prisons go. It’s fucking cold, however; the surrounding air is frigid, as I shiver and my breath blows steam into the air. My body heat as a Blood Dragon should take care of the chill, making me feel toasty, even though the air in my cell is only just above freezing.
But oh, yeah—magical handcuffs restrain all dragon abilities.
Even the innate kind.
As I come back to consciousness, I register a few things about my cell. The first is that I’m on a cot, which is nice because I’m not sleeping on the cold, hard stone of wherever I am right now. I gaze around to see my cell is circular, like a tower, but with no windows.
I feel as if I am somewhere high up and I can hear a stiff wind howling outside the thick stones of the walls. This place is old wherever it is; thewhite granite stones have the feel of millennia, and I’m not talking about before they were quarried.
With an uneven floor and slightly jilted walls, the smooth-worn stones of my cell have been polished by many dragons over time. The space is big enough to contain a dragon, though I’m in human form.
I’m just the latest dragon to be incarcerated here, however, as I note a set of ornate black iron bars that serve as a door. Those bars are scrawled through with caustic red Bloodrunes—to curse the fuck out of me if I even try to get close.
I’m comfy beneath my thick wool blanket, though. That, plus my cot, is the royal treatment for a dungeon in Swedish Blood Dragon territory in the Twilight Realm.
I don’t know where I am, but I have a feeling I’m in the custody of the same dragon clan I just made severe enemies of right before I passed out. The powerful Magnussen Clan of the Blood Dragons of Sweden.
Famed for their brutality up here in the far north.
I just royally pissed them off by decimating a holy dragon-cairn they had a strict taboo against messing with. That, plus I did it with my two mates—Ström Eriksson, Jarl-Heir of the rival neighboring Eriksson Clan, plus the Blood Dragon Kingsguard Captain Bjorn Magnussen.
Though Bjorn’s a Magnussen, the previous Jarl-Heir to the clan I’m trapped by, he’s been outcast since his teens. He was outcast by his father, the Jarl of these lands, Oggi Magnussen.
The dragon who has captured me.
I don’t see my mates anywhere now. Sitting up slowly on my cot, because I have a blistering headache from magical fatigue, I see I’m dressed in a nice set of linen trousers with a long-sleeved tunic. A white polar bear pelt is atop my wool blanket, which is why I’m so cozy. I seize both the pelt and blanket, wrapping them around me as I sit, leaning back on the stone wall and facing my cell door.
Waiting.
I don’t have to wait long. Either the Magnussens have some sort ofmagical security system to alert guards of my movements, or they’ve got modern micro-cameras in here. Tech and magic intertwine in the Twilight Realm; but someone has stepped up to my cell door now.
That someone unlocks the dire curse-runes on my door with a wave of their hand and a deep blaze of crimson-green Blood Dragon magic. As iron locks click back from an ornate locking mechanism, the thick iron bars of the door with their detailed scrollwork push back.
I see my jailor; a breath of relief passes through me as I recognize the Captain of the Magnussen Border Guard, Olander Mortensen. He enters my cell with his towering bulk, far more than just about any other dragon I’ve ever met, wearing traditional black buckled guardsman leathers.
A white polar bear pelt similar to the one on my cot is pinned around his shoulders; mine dwarfs me, even though I’m not a small woman, but his fits him perfectly.
A stylized silver insignia of vicious mountains with a dragon curling through them is pinned to his pelt. As he brings me a steaming tray of bread, butter, venison meat pie, and a big bowl of stew, I don’t even ask if it’s poisoned. I tuck in as a ravenous feeling fills me.
No idea when my last meal was—the dragon inside me hungry to the max.
“Slow down, drakaina. Chew a little.” Captain Olander gives a deep basso chuckle as he sits beside me on the cot, watching me eat.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, dispensing with any introductory questions. I know for certain now that Jarl Oggi Magnussen holds me captive, since this is his same captain who was sent to collect us from the dragon cairn, now sitting beside me.
Watching me eat like a ravenous beast.
“Three days. You’ve been out this entire time.” Captain Olander chuckles again, though it’s more serious now as his gaze pierces me. He’s got nice eyes, a sort of hazel-meets-spring-green with a ring of gold around them.
Built like a Nordic strongman, he’s well kept with a trim blond beardand neat blond braids, and dragons shaved into the sides of his head. Beads of silver adorn those braids, glinting in a light source I only now realize is a flowing, magical white light that lingers around the apex of my cell.
“You gave a lot of energy to Bjorn when you pushed all your power into him through your bonds before you passed out.” The captain is serious now as I finally eat slower.
