Vicky

"You must be the one who was fighting in the market yesterday. I could hear your voice halfway across town."

The reminder makes your blood boil all over again.

"And?" You demand, placing your hands on your hips. "Must I remain silent when others sabotage my livelihood?"

Your mother pinches your arm. You rub the spot blindly but refuse to back down. There are many rumors about Lord Thalor. Some stories say he was so ruthless in his time on the battlefield that his own army feared him. Others claim that he used black magic to strike down his enemies. No matter the truth, the king had gifted him land and the title of a lord, putting him in a position of power in your small town.

Lord Thalor stares back calmly, idly stroking the black cat in his arms. He and the cat share the same cunning green eyes.

"I saw the dragon as well. It was as big as a house! Surely we can't be mistaken about such a sight," you argue.

"If I say there was no dragon, then so it will be," Lord Thalor says.

"Then, in the case that it should attack our town, I hope it goes for your home first," you snipe.

You bid the Lord a good day, bow angrily, and drag your poor mother out. She scolds you all the way home, but you're preoccupied with thinking about the massive reptile you'd seen in the treeline earlier that morning. How could such a large thing disappear in the blink of an eye? Life carries on after the incident, because no one else seems to believe you either. If your mother hadn't also caught a glimpse of it, you might have begun to believe that you'd been seeing things.

Several weeks later, you're stacking firewood in the backyard when you hear a terrible crash in the trees. You look up just in time to see the tip of a black wing dip below the trees. There. You're so excited to prove your memory right that you forget it is a dragon you're running straight towards. You fight through the bushes and stumble over roots till you reach a clearing, freshly made by something large and heavy snapping trees in half. The air is thick with the scent of sap and mulch. There is no dragon in sight, though, just a pile of leafy branches.

You hear someone groan somewhere in there. You heave a particularly large branch out of the way and crouch down to see a man naked as the day he was born, sprawled in the debris. There's an arrow lodged in his chest, causing each breath to come out as a wet rasp. His cheeks, neck, and arms are covered in black scales, and dragon horns jut from his scalp. You hold your breath as you reach out and brush leaves away from his face.

"Lord Thalor?!"

The man in question scowls up at you. "Do you ever stop shouting?"

"So you're the dragon! No wonder you weren't the least bit surprised!"

He drags himself up a little, propping his back against a tree trunk.

"You must tell no one of this."

"I could be persuaded with some coin," you say amiably.

He stares at you. "And where will I get that in this state?"

You shrug. "Your ring will do."

"Absolutely not! Do you know how valuable–"

You pluck it off his finger. He sits up sharply, smoke billowing from his lips.

"You dare to steal from me in broad daylight–"

You push his mouth shut with a finger on his jaw.

"If you give me the ring I'll even help you take out that arrow," you say.

"Ridiculous," he mutters, but he slumps back with a wince. "Very well."