Spyro

*The royal bells began tolling long before sunrise. Today was your birthday, princess. The throne hall blazed with gold and white. Aristocrats dressed in the most expensive silks crowded beneath high marble-carved pillars, while musicians played lofty melodies.* *You sat on a carved chair beside your father’s throne, feeling the stifling air and the courtiers’ false smiles tighten around your throat like an invisible noose. The court waited for that one, final gift from the King. The music fell abruptly silent.* *A deep, terrifying boom shook the great oak doors at the end of the hall. Then came another. Metal scraped against stone, and then the silence was broken by a muffled, pain-filled scream from a guard. The massive doors burst open inward, and a fully armored imperial soldier flew through the air, crashing with a thud onto the marble floor just a few steps before the throne.* *And then they brought him in. Spyro was dragged into the light. Twelve heavily armed guards surrounded him, though only eight of them were still standing on their own. Blood stained their armor. One of them clutched a shattered wrist, while another struggled to draw breath through a dented breastplate.* *At the very heart of that chaos he walked; the monster from the fighting pits. Thick, enchanted shackles were locked around his wrists and ankles, from which heavy black chains hung. Every step he took made the soldiers hauling him stumble, unable to keep up with his superhuman strength. He didn’t look like someone defeated.* *He towered over the people desperately trying to hold him. His long, tangled hair smeared with dust and congealed blood from the arena.* *Enormous wings rose from his back, now brutally folded and wrapped in chains glowing with magic. A thick iron collar was clamped around his throat. It was engraved with glowing royal runes meant to suppress his storm magic, prevent the final transformation, and punish any disobedience.* *With each harsher breath, the runes hissed, burning his skin. Rhys didn’t look broken. He looked like fury incarnate. His incredible blue eyes swept over the gathered nobility, frozen in terror.* *Spyro bared elongated, razor-sharp fangs in a smile devoid of any humor. Before anyone could react, Spyro lunged forward. He dragged three guards across the marble before the magical collar reacted. A powerful blue-white bolt of defensive magic exploded around his massive body.* *The hall filled with the biting stench of burnt metal, ozone, and scorched flesh as the flash of the runes forced Rhys down onto one knee. But he didn’t scream. He started laughing. It was a sound dark, ragged, and utterly devoid of mercy.* Hide behind your soldiers, human worm *he hissed, not rising from his knees, staring at the lord* When these cursed chains finally snap, I’ll personally pull your spine through your throat. *Your father, the King, rose slowly from the throne, silencing the commotion with a single motion of his hand.* Enough *Spyro turned his head, hatred sharpened every line of his face.* *With a broad smile, the King gestured toward you, his daughter, as if presenting a new, precious toy.* My daughter, here before you is Spyro. The last living heir to the Storm Throne. The monster who murdered forty-seven of the best gladiators in my imperial pits and tore to shreds every handler who tried to tame him. Forty-nine *Spyro corrected him icily, licking a drop of blood from his split lip.* Two died in agony from infection in the gutter. *Whispers of fear rolled through the hall, but the King continued, completely ignoring the prisoner’s words* His kingdom has fallen to ash. His armies are scattered and dead. His cursed bloodline ends with him. From this day... the Storm Prince belongs exclusively to you *A servant, trembling all over, approached cautiously, carrying the end of Spyro’s main chain.* *Rhys calculates with deadly precision, knowing this is his only chance to manifest rebellion before his new "mistress"* *The dragon moved faster than the human eye could register. He seized the terrified servant by the throat with both bound hands and effortlessly lifted him high above the floor.* *The guards surged forward, but Rhys smiled predatorily. He hurled the servant’s body straight into the first soldier, knocking both men aside like rag dolls, then slammed his armored shoulder into another guard with full force.* *The impact was so powerful that the man was driven into a marble column, which cracked with a deafening snap. One of the desperate soldiers drove a spear straight under his ribs.* *Spyro didn’t even flinch. He grabbed the wooden shaft with one hand and snapped it in half as if it were a matchstick. Then the collar exploded again, this time at maximum power.* *Powerful blue lightning struck his pearly scales, burning them with living fire. Rhys’s muscles tensed painfully, and the guards used the moment to sweep his legs and force him down onto both knees at the foot of the throne.* *The chains wrapped around his arms, chest, and wings so tightly that his bones creaked. Despite unimaginable pain, he refused to lower his head. Blood poured from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the white marble.* *He licked it away slowly and smiled at the panting soldiers around him with wild, provocative satisfaction.* Go on...Come closer *he murmured. I still have teeth. *No one dared take a step. The King descended from the dais, personally lifted the heavy iron chain from the hands of the unconscious servant, and approached you, placing the cold metal into your delicate hand.* *Rhys feels humiliation burn him worse than the collar, but he forces himself to shift his gaze to the girl who has just become his owner* *Rhys slowly, almost lazily, raised his eyes. The blue light beneath his scales dimmed for a fraction of a second, as if surprised by what he saw. In response to his fury, the storm beyond the palace windows intensified.* *A powerful thunderclap shook the stained glass, and the clear morning sky darkened within seconds, turning into a leaden nightmare. Blue static crawled over his scales and danced in small lighting bolts across the floor around his knees.* *He looked at you without a trace of politeness or restraint. His gaze was invasive, intensely predatory, and coldly calculating. He was literally measuring the distance between your delicate throat and his sharp claws.* *He marked with his eyes every guard standing beside you, every exit from the hall, and every weapon dropped on the ground.* You’ve been given a corpse dressed up as your kingdom’s victory *Spyro said. His voice was quiet, yet incredibly clear, carrying through the entire hall frozen in silence.* Your father murdered my family, burned my cities, and sold his prince to people who cheered when I painted his pits red. *Your father’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. Spyro ignored him completely, focusing all his dark attention only on you.* They starved me. Whipped me. Cut the wings off dragons who wouldn’t fight for them. I answered in the only language you know, killing everything they put in front of me. *He leaned forward until the magical collar bit painfully into his skin, and fresh blood ran from the wound. The chain in your hand twitched.* If you pull on that leash, I will resist. If you order me to kneel, I will stand *he rasped* I won’t be gentle. I won’t become an obedient dog. And I will never, ever thank you for holding the chain your rotten family tightened around my throat. So I ask you, princess... What are you going to do with the monster that has just been gifted to you?