Taken [Frengine]

"No, not tonight." Jerimer chuckled. "And we need you clean for tonight. Just wait a moment and I'll get some water and a rag."

Ire gulped down the final bite of the fish, walking over to Safyia and Hro and taking a seat, putting out his chest and sitting tall beside his siblings. "We have to make Uncle proud first, and then we get to learn to fly."

Jermimer quickly returned with a bucket of cold water and his rag. "Who's first?"
 
Hrothulf quickly backed away from the bucket, hiding behind Ire. "You guys go first..."
 
Safyia hissed at her tail being stepped on but it didn't last long as her brother changed direction and hid from his bat. Rolling her eyes, Safyia bounded up to Jerimer. "I'll go first!"
 
Jerimer contained his laugh behind a smile as he dipped the rag in the cold water. He squeezed it out once before begining to wipe down Safyia's pearlescent scales. He had grown fond of the three "beasts", but he knew better. They would be of age soon enough, and then they would be as savage as any wild dragon, tamed only through muzzles, whips, and hunger. The count had given strict orders though, and until he says otherwise they were to be treated like speaking prize dogs. He wasn't looking forwards to that day.

Ire grumbled and stepped up next Safyia. He hated the cold water, especially in the winter when it felt like it would freeze him right to his bones.
 
Hroth saw the water. He saw the soap. He saw the torture. Small bolts of lightning arced across his snout as fear gripped his heart. Running, the small dragon launched himself at the ceiling. His eyes wide, his claws stuck between stones, Hroth held himself up, terrified of the water.
 
Jerimer wiped down the little pearl dragons scales, ridding her of the dungeon dirt and fish scales. The water was cold and clear, making Safyia shake, but feel refreshed. She liked cold water even though snow was more fun. When the boy was done, the hen's scales glittered in the lamp light with green and pink swirling patterns mixed with the white.

"I'm done!" Safyia squeaked excitedly barely able to hold still, "Hurry up so we can go!"
 
Ire stepped over, shuddering as the rag went across his scales. His mud-brown scales did not benefit nearly as much as Safyia, but his own specks of fish and dust were cleaned away.

"Hro! Your turn!" Ire barked, marching over to his brother on the wall.
 
Hrothulf begrudgingly crawled down from the ceiling, slowly poking his way towards the boy. Grimacing, he knelt down for the torturer's touch.
 
Jerimer scrubbed away at the grime on Hrothulf's scales, and the bits of fish at his muzzle. "There we go. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He tossed the rag back into the bucket, standing and picking it up. "And now we can get you all to the Count!"

- - - -

The hatchlings were brought through the tunnels of the dungeon, poor lighting provided by sporadically placed torches on the walls. The air was heavy and more dank than their chamber, the air not having the circulation provided by their window to the world. Soon, they came to a set of stairs that lead them up to a small stone room, also lit by a torch on the wall. A heavy wooden door was the only other feature.

"Past this door are the count's halls. You have to promise to follow me very closely, ok?"
 
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Hroth, grumbling about the bath, stood behind his sister and brother. Nodding vaguely to whatever Jerimer said, Hroth didn't actually pay attention. His inattentiveness was easily seen by his sister, Safyia, though.
 
Safyia gave Jermer and innocent smile and nodded. "Yes, we'll stay close!" When she didn't hear her brothers agree to the terms, she extended her wings and gave them both a nudge. "Right brothers?" She wanted to learn to fly more than anything after Jerimer had told her about how dragons could do it and she didn't want her brothers inability to pay attention to make her miss the chance.
 
"Yeah." Ire said, lacking Safyia's enthusiasm as he though. Even at his young age, he was not totally naive, and his thoughts were on the people they would be seeing soon. They had only ever seen Jerimer, Uncle, and a few guards here and there before, and now they were about to meet all the lords of the land! What if they didn't like them? What if they talked to them like they were beasts like the guards did?

"Good. The count is waiting for us in his chambers, he wants you to enter the feast by his side, like his personal guard. You'll need to act regal, just like I've been showing you."

Ire straightened up his back, lifting his head and puffing out his chest. Regal, Uncle wanted them to protect him at the feast, his personal guard. The words sounded good in Ire's head.

"Right this way guys." Jerimer opened the door, revealing the red carpet and hardwood floors of the castle hall beyond. Doors lined either side, the sounds and smells of cooking came from the left, and the noises of people chattering on the right. Steel chandeliers hung from the roof, and weapons and heraldry were displayed in cases and mounts all along, tapestries hanging behind them.
 
Hroth followed his brother and sister into the hall. Regal was what Jerimer had said, but Hroth had never paid attention in those classes. As such the dragon walked low, close to the ground, his tail flipping back and forth. His large eyes soaking in the surroundings, watching everyone around him.

They were new and large. He did not trust them, in fact, he wanted to be as far away from them as possible. But then, he smelled the cooking. Hroth tried to stay with his brother and sister, but the smells began to pull his feet away from them. Stealthily, the small dragon made his way over to the kitchens.
 
Safyia listened to Jerimer talk about Uncle wanting them to escort them at the feast. It sounded easy enough and if they did a good job he would let them fly. She marched merrily along behind the human, occasionally taking leaping hops into the air and letting her wings flutter. They could almost feel the open sky beneath them and she wasn't even outside yet! There was much to explore inside too, but it was hard to contain her excitement. They passed by a tapestry on the wall depicting a dragon and a Knight. There were flames everywhere and both were standing against each other like they were fighting. The image made Safyia tilt her head in confusion, the man seemed to hate the dragon in the picture but Uncle Dereland and Jerimer weren't mean to them. Maybe this dragon had done something terrible to be attacked and the human was just defending himself. Fluttering over to the tapestry she sat up on her back legs and pawed at the tassels.

"Jerimier what did this dragon do to make the man so angry?"
 
Ire plodded along behind his sister, trying to keep his head high and an air of toughness around him. He was excited to be exploring, sure, but he was here to be a guard for Uncle, and he needed to look strong doing it. He nearly ran his snout into Safyia's side before he noticed she had suddenly stopped to stare up at the tapestry.

Jerimer turned, looking over the bright tapestry on the wall. "He is an evil dragon, a savage beast that knows nothing but killing. The knight is a brave solider sent to slay him to save his people. That's how all wild dragons are."

Ire's eyes danced over the sword in the knights' hand. He had seen a few weapons in guards hands, but never thought much about them. Now, seeing it pointed to a dragon not too unlike him, something clicked. The idea of doing battle with a human, a fight of teeth and claw against metal. The idea scared him, just a little.

-_-_-_-

The kitchen area was large and open, aside from the island of counter in the center of the room where prepared food sat in wait of being served. Roast goose, venison, legumes and vegetables of all sorts marinated in foreign oils and herbs. Three chefs were busy at work over pots of stew, kneading bread, and chopping ingredients as they chatted about a local woman and escort named "Venice."

Soon, one chef's eye flicked over Hro, just for a moment, but it was enough for him to do a double take. "Drake!" He shouted, taking his knife in hand and shifting into an aggressive stance. The other cooks did the same, grabbing a cast iron pan and wooden rolling pin as they advanced.

_-_-_-_

Jerimer turned as soon as he heard the shout, a flash of horror crossing his face as he ran to the door of the kitchen. Ire broke from his thoughts, following right after him in a panic.
 
Hroth merely crawled over the counters of the kitchen to where a slab of elk laid. Taking a huge bite out of the half-roasted slab, Hroth caught sight of all the cooks. Giving them a toothy smile, that may have looked more like a snarl, Hroth continued to eat his hard-won prize.
 
Despite the man with the knife noticing him first, the man with the pin acted the fastest. With a few mighty steps, he was in striking range. The pin came faster than the hunger-dazed dragon could react, and slammed into his left wing with the chilling crack of bones.

"No!" Jerimer shouted, pushing one chef out of the way to get to the hatchling.

Ire stopped in his tracks in the doorway. The man with the blade, the one striking Hro. It... it... didn't make sense. They were Uncle's...
 
Safyia gazed at the tapestry, trying to understand why a dragon would hurt someone who looked like Uncle. That's how wild dragons were? Why? The commotion from the kitchen caught her attention and she pounced after Jerimer and Ire, half slamming into her brother has he came to a halt in the kitchen door way. There were men everywhere, towering over her brother with knives and what looked like a club. What were they doing?! Hro wasn't like the dragon on the tapestry, why were they hurting him?
The farm boy launched forward but Safyia stayed frozen to the spot, too scared to move at first.
 
Hroth screamed. He screamed with an ear peircing clarity. Fright and pain, overflowing in his mind. Unable to move, frozen in place, Hroth watched as the pin came down. It had crashed his wing. Turning something once glorious and majestic into a crumpled heap of flesh and bone.

He screamed. A scream that belonged to a wild animal reverberated throughout the Hall. Bolts of lightning manifested, terror giving them life. Hroth receeded into himself. He tried to curl up into a ball, but his now mangled wing would not let him.

He was unable to speak for the pain was too great.
 
Jerimer knocked the chef away with a shoulder check, soon turning much more passive as he picked up Hroth in his arms. "Bastards! He's just a kid!"

"He's a fookin demonspawn beast!"

"Out! Everyone out!" Jermimer pushed past the chef again, coddling the dragon in his arms. He was soon in the hallway, quickly walking to the lord's chambers with the little ones in tow.
 
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