The Queen

The mage forced the dragon down, sweat running down his face as he pressed as hard as he could on his magic. He pictured the huge crimson wings being strapped to the beast's side, and they grudgingly folded, fighting with twitches and dangerous flaps that threatened to sweep him from the ground.

Then the whispering voice came back, to the displeasure of all in the clearing.

What does defeat mean to you? One large white eye slammed open, and a sudden jerk on the mage's mind made him cry out. The dragon shrieked, claws raking at the ground from where they were trapped under its body. A savage intelligence was in its tone as it answered the question, and strangely - or perhaps not - the voice was distinctly female. 

‘Nothing. It will never come’

"What?" The mage gasped, hoping that he hadn’t broken the beast’s mind. Just because he had to stop her rampage didn’t mean he wanted to hurt her. The queen dragon didn’t acknowledge him, continuing to answer like he hadn’t spoken.

‘Death before defeat. You can kill me, but there is no defeat.’ The voice was laden with contempt, a snarl shuddering through her body as the mage wailed, gripping his head. Her wings seemed to clench, and in the next moment the sun was eclipsed by them, giant red sails that filled the sky.

One of the big ways a queen is different from a tom is the way they fight. Wanton destruction aside, the fighting style of the queens is nothing less than an art form. Now that Matthias knew the dragon was a female, he wasn’t sure how he had ever missed it before.

The way her scales bent with her, lithe and twisting instead of a tom’s graceful bulk was poetry. He could see why the dragons of old had been revered, if they had all moved like this. The females at least would have easily been treated as their gender namesake. Not a thousand precious gems would have been a contest for her, for all her scales shone like red and silver starlight.

Her eyes were the color of a pair of the finest opals, and just before she spoke, her neck and head shook lightly, breaking the last of his hold over her. She was a treasure in and of herself, now that she stood for them to see instead of raining death down on them from above.

Even the ones who had cried for her death were still and quiet, taking in her form.

Meanwhile, she spoke a final time to the whispering voice, ‘If I meet a force greater than myself, I end. Defeat is in surrender, and I do not. My defeat will never come...perhaps my death shall, and that will be glorious, but do not insult me with the word ‘defeat’’.

Very well then.

Suddenly it was quiet again, the buzzing in the background gone, only a small group of people, a mage with a headache, and a dragon who slowly turned to look at them.