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As though he was following the wicked melody of a vengeful piper, the young Duke Wriothesley’s legs led him across the moat and through the dense woods, straight towards the hidden lake by which stood a grass-roofed cottage. He knew the path like the back of his own hand – a shameful testimony to his many prior escapes from his royal duties. Usually, he’d be accompanied by the sanguine symphonies of local birds as he walked; it was therefore rather unnerving for him to find the forest completely quiet that day. For a while, the ominous silence was only interrupted by the crack of branches under his feet and the flutter of his crimson cape in the wind. Alas, when his ears finally welcomed a different sound, he found it to be of no relief at all. Unmistakably, it resembled despaired sobbing.
His heart would always start beating faster whenever he approached the cottage, yet for the first time, it wasn’t excitement that had moved it, but dread.
Indeed, as he emerged from the forest, he was faced with a sight so shockingly awful, his mind was unable to comprehend it at first; that racing heart of his had momentarily stopped and sank into his stomach. He couldn’t move a limb until an icy shiver shook him awake.
There, on the small patch of grass separating the cottage from the lake’s shore was a coffin surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands of wildflowers and handcrafted ornaments. It appeared to have been made of the purest gold and crystalline glass, which had left the Duke doubtless as to who was resting inside, surrounded by countless bouquets, as well.
That body unmistakably belonged to a relatively recent, but dear friend of his who went only by a humble name: ‘Neuvillette’.
He was a man of divine beauty, close to the Duke’s age: tall, with a slender build and a noble face. His ears were notably pointed, unlike those of humans; his skin was as fair as fresh apple blossoms and his hair, which he was most known of, was long and as white as the first winter snow. His eyes, in which blue and rose swirled into an otherworldly lilac hue, were able to charm a fool with a single glance – and now, inexplicably, they were closed, doomed never to open again.
Around the coffin kneeled the seven Melusines – Carole, Cosanzeana, Kiara, Mamere, Pahsiv, Sedene, and Sigewinne – the fairy guardians of Loch Urania. For what he knew, they were Neuvillette’s familiars, having taken him in only a few months prior after inhabiting the cottage for centuries. The people were aware of them, occasionally asking for their blessings, though the Melusines preferred to stray from the capital and led a quiet life in the woods. Had the dreadful sight of the coffin not been bad enough, the heartbreak worsened upon watching the little fairies mourn their friend.
“What... What’s happened here...?” He barely managed to choke out, approaching the site at once.
“It’s the Duke!” One of the Melusines exclaimed, as they began to notice him one by one.
“Monsieur Wriothesley! Your Grace must help us! Please!” A teary-eyed Sigewinne appeared by his side, pulling at the corner of his cape.
“You stupid goose!” Cosanzeana scolded, wiping the tears from her own eyes as well. “How is he to help?!”
“I’m sure he can! There are still spells we haven’t—“
“Quiet...! Your Grace, Monsieur Neuvillette had been tricked and poisoned by those cruel... vengeful gods!” Brave Carole broke through the ruckus with a stomp, much to the restless Duke’s gratitude, although it had made her a target of her two sisters, who’d rushed her way, trying to hush her.
“You mustn’t!” Sedene scolded.
“S-Secret...” Mumbled Pahsiv.
“The gods...?” He questioned, unable to break his gaze away from the once flushed, now pale and sickly face inside the coffin. Could that be true? The many deities of their land were known to be capricious. They protected the people from ailments and greater evils lurking in the wilderness, not excluding themselves, but in return, they expected unparalleled worship and absolute rule over the elements, as well as the lands humans didn't yet inhabit. Most of the Duke's subjects daren't disobey their will, yet the man himself believed that with excessive power and adulation came excessive pride and greed, as well. Gone were the days when the gods responded to each humble prayer, seeking no gains for granting people's pleas. The humans were left to fend for themselves, lacking freedom to do so, nonetheless. “How... could a soul as kind as his have possibly wronged them? I... I simply can’t believe it. Tell me, is he truly...”
“He did no wrong! It’s them, it’s them who are wrong!” The Melusines cried out in unison, but with impatience and a great sense of injustice scorching him like flames, the Duke’s eyes landed on Carole who, sharing his sentiments, wished to tell the tragic tale upfront:
“Those human gods of yours, they’d disguised as one of our kind in order to hunt Monsieur Neuvillette down! Your Grace is right; he’d done nothing to provoke them. And of course, he would help a lost Melusine! Ugh... They did it solely out of disdain! Solely because Monsieur is a...”
“Shush!” Kiara suddenly joined her sisters in an effort to silence her, “Monsieur didn’t want it known—“
“But what difference does it make if he’s dead?!” Carole snapped in turn, which made all but her fall silent, instead. Her big eyes turned towards the Duke: “They wanted to... to punish Neuvillette because he... he’s a dragon!”
“A dragon...?” Duke Wriothesley paused, looking through the faces around him as if waiting to be told he’d fallen victim to a cruel joke, secretly hoping to see his friend sit and emerge from the ornate case. At heart, he knew it couldn’t be true; the grieving grimaces and copiously falling tears from these innocent sprites couldn’t have been anything but genuine.
Of course, he’d heard of dragons, too. They were widely known across the land, though they didn’t have the best of reputations. Simply speaking, they were said to be beasts far more inhuman and feral than even the most unruly of gods, possessing great magical prowess and might, but with little regard for humanity’s fate, despite their intelligence. Dragons answered to no gods, and most certainly no humans. It was why they were commonly slain out of fear. Moreover, finding the dragons' disobedience gravely insulting, they gods promised their good graces to those brave enough to commit such a daring act. Naturally, the well-read Duke wasn’t so naive as to assume the mysterious figure with snow-white hair was a regular human. Knowing how gentle his disposition was, however, a dragon would've been his very last guess; he'd been convinced he were another lake spirit, or the newly crowned prince of its guardian fairies.
“Monsieur Neuvillette is a good and peaceful dragon...!” Emboldened by her sister's honesty, Mamere also spoke up. “He’s been protecting our land's seas, rivers, and lakes for centuries! But those greedy, nasty gods, they wanted to seize his authority over the waters and chased him away, severely wounded. Assuming a human form, he took refuge in our little house until he recovered... but last night, while we were away, one of those tricksters had found him and slipped him a poisoned cup! We arrived t-too l-late...”
Her voice waned.
“I've examined him carefully... Since he'd only had a sip, rather than dead, Monsieur Neuvillette is in a deep, deep sleep. “ Sigewinne, who possessed the most advanced healing abilities among the seven, lit up a hopeful spark in the Duke's heart anew. “They must only have so many tricks up their sleazy sleeves! It has to be a curse of some sort... We've tried some common curse-breaking methods, but so far none of them have—”
“That’ll be enough. Thank you, everyone...” He said, struggling to keep his voice steady, too. Turning around on his heels, he slowly made his path across the sea of flowers over to the coffin, though it may as well have been the gallows. “Do you think I c-could... Excuse me. I know after only so many visits, I’m merely another unwanted human intruder... but, though you may not believe it, Neuvillette was... is, quite important to me, too. If he cannot be awakened... I don’t want to think about it, but I’d like to see him up close again. Is it possible for you to lift the lid for a moment...?”
The Melusines appeared a bit stunned, if not intimidated, which was hardly unusual; they had always been wary of the man, which he held no grudges for, more so in this unfortunate aftermath. Having learned the truth, he could only imagine how heavy with worry their little hearts were each time they saw him approach the disguised dragon. And yet, they had never shown any ill will and beyond that, as they all hurried to open the coffin, the soft-spoken Pahsiv even squeezed his hand, mumbling a quiet:
“I-Intruder... no. F-Friend...!”
It caught him off guard, but... he appreciated having company in this trying time.
Allowed a moment of privacy, the Duke sat at the edge of the golden pedestal, dreading to touch the pale, icy hand. Buried beneath a bouquet of white lillies, Neuvillette's chest was still. Could it really be a mere slumber, or were the Melusines, in their grief, telling themselves naive lies of revival that would never come...?
Duke Wriothesley was a man of few words, perpetually concealing his pain behind a selection of carefully crafted masks. He wouldn't cry nor collapse to his knees, but instead, he asked himself: where was the justice in this world, if those who were supposed to be humanity's guardians usurped power from the weaker, going so far as to hunting them down like hounds to assure not a single voice would be raised against them? How could they believe themselves to be above humans, if they were just as fallible to pride, greed, and madness?
He felt a great wave of bitterness wash over him.
The 'beast' they’d so desperately wished to conquer was a beacon of kindness compared to those wretched monsters. When he first met Neuvillette, he too was chasing down a man alongside his retainers – a murderer and a traitor to the court. In the dark wilderness, even the dogs had lost the trace. He abandoned his horse, wading along the shore, when all of the sudden, he was blinded by the shine of beautiful snow-white hair. Feeling a bit stunned, he didn't say much, and neither did the stranger, but after a minute, he silently pointed towards a hidden grove, of which nobody else knew. Lo and behold, the Duke found the suspect with ease, unlike the ethereal man who wouldn't show himself again until much, much later.
Another time, a local child, Lanoire, went missing. Not being the type to relish in the palace life, Wriothesley also joined the search. As dusk neared, the villagers found the girl's shoes being carried by the river’s current, which nearly extinguished all hopes. Just then, the Duke was approached by none other than Neuvillette who – he could barely believe his eyes – was carrying the missing Lanoire. Barefoot, pale, and soaked to the bone, but unharmed nonetheless. He'd handed him the girl before disappearing, not wanting to be seen.
Finally, there was also a day on which the Duke had gone on a lone hunt into the woods, though perhaps peace and quiet were the only prey he was after – or was he hoping to catch a glimpse of that white hair again...? Either way, he had an awful tendency to run away from his duties... that might've been why that evening, the gods chose to punish him with incessant rain, forcing him to stand idly in the scarce shade of an old willow. Despite his foolish hopes, he couldn't have expected Neuvillette to actually show up again. His blue umbrella became the sole witness to their hours-long conversation: they talked about everything and nothing at all, strolling around the forest until they’d been startled by dawn.
...
If such were the headstrong, selfish beasts of legend, he’d rather his land be ruled by them than those false gods, the Duke thought, no longer able to hold back the tears budding in his eyes. This lonesome, weakened dragon had done more to protect the humans he owed nothing to than the ones who reaped their prayers and offerings. He’d come to love them from the shadows, unlike the ones who reveled in the glory of their divine mercy.
Why was he then lying there, cold and colorless, unable to hear his familiars' cries and the many words the Duke was yet to tell him anymore...? It wasn’t the fate he deserved.
Guided by an unbridled force, Wriothesley brushed the white strands away from his forehead, and leaned over the sleeping dragon's lifeless body until their lips could meet.
A chilling, unreciprocated kiss stained with the taste of tears; it couldn't have been further from the idyllic scenes he'd once envisioned, yet it was the only solace in these grim circumstances he could find. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten about the whole wide, unjust world around them – and as such, the Duke found himself taken aback by the sight of Melusines forming a circle around the coffin once more. Though unwilling, he pulled away, worried that he'd offended the fairies. His act did feel like desecration – like throwing a fistful of ash into that pure, white snow.
“Ahh!” Sigewinne gasped, startling him. “A true love’s kiss! One of the few things we haven't been able to try... Oh, of course they'd be so cruel as to subject Monsieur Neuvillette to the will of humans who'd always been so mean to him, too...”
“He'd always say... 'nobody could ever love a dragon'... How silly!” Sedene sighed wistfully.
“T-True... What? A-And what do you mean... 'of course'—“ He began, but was unable to finish. Noticing the seven pairs of eyes almost eerily focused on a single point, his own followed.
Just in time before the previously clear sky had suddenly turned dark, and a thunder tore through it violently. The wind was rising, and the Melusines joined their hands, chanting in an unknown tongue. Wriothesley shot up from his seat and looked around in frenzy, realizing he’d been trapped by their fairy ring.
He didn’t have a good feeling about it.
Frozen in equal parts awe and terror, he watched the pristine lilies in Neuvillette’s hands burst into hundreds of tiny water droplets; promptly followed by the other bouquets erupting one by one like rainy fireworks, the dark glade turned into a mystical spectacle beyond the Duke’s comprehension. Soon, the coffin itself melted away as if it had been made of ice rather than glass, and the quickly pooling water took on a mesmerizing, rose-colored and opalescent shimmer. Unable to withstand the raging elements for much longer, the Duke shielded his face behind his crimson cape until the ruckus had ceased.
And once the curtain had finally been drawn, he saw a lone figure sitting atop of an empty, golden pedestal.
“N... Neuvillette?!” Feeling as light as if he’d grown wings, he rushed towards him, helping the other sit up.
“I-I’m... Where... Huh, Wriothesley...?”
Met with the stunning gaze of those sparkling, lilac eyes and the rosy blush on his cheeks, he'd suddenly forgotten his words. Before he could collect himself, they'd become surrounded by the cheering, crying, shouting Melusines, celebrating the return of their guardian.
“Monsieur Neuvillette!”
“You're back!”
“We missed you so much!”
Unsure what else to do, he simply wrapped his arms around him in a sincere embrace.
However, the storms had not yet passed, nor did the ominous gale stop.
It was only a while later, whilst the Melusines joyously splashed in the shimmering puddles that the Duke was approached by the dragon he’d unwittingly saved:
“I suppose... my secret has been revealed...” He began, avoiding his gaze, which the Duke could not bear, “It’s not how I wished to tell—“
“Are you alright?” Wriothesley asked, for he didn’t care about any further explanations that day; his hands reached out to envelop Neuvillette’s face which, as a result, turned a healthy, vibrant red.
“Ah...? Y-Yes, t-thank you... for everything... Although, I’m still not entirely sure how my curse was broken.” He cleared his throat, and wishing to avoid the Duke’s smug smirk as well, he slipped out of his grasp and turned around, growing serious. “However... there are things I must do... duties I must fulfill... and they mustn’t wait much longer.”
“Such as...?”
“I cannot allow the events of today to transpire ever again.” He shook his head. “I must face the gods... and this time, I shan’t concede.”
The Duke understood. Kindness was not a weakness, but there was only so long it could remain a solitary measure.
“I see. Should you need help, you may rely on my army... as well as myself.” He told the surprised dragon. “It’s about time we took fate back into our own hands, wouldn’t you agree? Loyalty doesn’t come for free and so far, you seem much more deserving of it. Let them starve ‘till they start begging for the people’s prayers again.”
Upon hearing those words, Neuvillette walked towards him weightlessly and had Wriothesley blinked, he would've missed the moment their lips had touched again. The dragon's arms wreathed around his neck, while the Duke’s fingers weaved into the long hair cascading past his waist. It was a kiss that felt warm, soft, full of life and passion – yet was regretfully followed by a foreboding promise:
“Once more, thank you, Wriothesley... You and your people shall be spared from the judgment I'll soon bestow upon those vile gods. You’ll witness floods and storms... but you're not the ones I wish to go against. I'd never enjoyed the taste of human blood in my water... for there are kinds that are far more suitable for drinking.” Even now, having been forcefully thrown into a war with the heavens, as he cast his curses, the glint in his eye was one of deep regret rather than rightful vengeance. “I'm afraid I must go now, but... I hope that someday, I'll be able to host you at this cottage again, along with my seven dear friends.”
“I'll be waiting for you to appear out of nowhere, much as you always do.” He replied, and the two of them exchanged smiles before the Duke was left to watch the wind comb through the snow-white hair as the dragon with the fairest heart in all the land said goodbye to the Melusines. Shortly, he would disappear into the vast lake, and only after Wriothesley saw a glimpse of a colossal, blue tail under the surface did the weather finally calm.
The cottage glade was silent once more.
Perhaps after bearing witness to that day's mystifying and absurd events, most people would be wary of the dragon's intentions, or put his kindness into question, but not he. There were many things the young Duke was yet to learn, but in the end, he was utterly convinced that the choice he'd made was a righteous one. In his belief, kindness and compassion needn't be perfect, but rather should be unconditional, a word the meaning of which their deities had long forgotten. A noble heart needn't be shaped like that of a human, either.
He'd wait patiently to meet Neuvillette under that old willow tree again, trusting that he could face his foes without resorting to bloodshed. With the shattering of the glass coffin that day, the dragon had come to understand concepts that were far beyond the comprehension – let alone jurisdiction – of the celestials that had no love for humanity left in their cold, desolate hearts.