Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 71: Becoming a toy

A few hours after the horrifying sight of the massacre, Mordred was silently led back to his individual cell. The door closed heavily behind him, leaving the sinister metallic creak of rusty hinges ringing in his ears. He sat slowly on the cold, hard bed, staring into the emptiness, the atrocious images still fresh in his mind.

The hours stretched on slowly, each minute weighing heavily on his shoulders, when suddenly the door to his cell opened once more. Mordred looked up sharply, his dark eyes shining with suspicion and anger that was hard to contain.

The princess’s steward, as impeccable as ever, calmly entered. His cold gaze fell on Mordred, and with a precise, authoritative nod, he ordered:

- Stand up. The princess awaits you at the Palace of the Burning Fangs. You must come immediately. freewёbnoνel.com

Mordred frowned, surprised and irritated by this new, unexpected order. Yet, aware of his helplessness, he rose slowly and followed the steward in silence, without asking any questions. Once outside, he was stunned to find a luxurious carriage waiting for them, pulled by two huge Wyverns with powerful, scaly wings.

Mordred recoiled instinctively at these impressive beasts, which waved nervously, their yellow eyes watching him predatorily. The steward sighed, clearly annoyed:

- Hop in, human. They’re not going to eat you... well, not yet," he added with a cold smile.

Mordred climbed silently into the carriage, settling himself carefully on the black leather seat, carefully avoiding the contemptuous gaze of the steward who took his place opposite him. As soon as they were settled, the Wyverns let out a loud cry and spread their broad wings, lifting the carriage into the air with disconcerting ease.

Mordred felt his stomach clench under the effect of the rapid ascent, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to show the slightest weakness in front of his interlocutor. As the dark, rugged landscape passed beneath them, the steward finally broke the heavy silence:

- Listen to me carefully, human. Tonight, at the Palace of the Burning Fangs, you will be officially presented as the Princess’s personal plaything. You must be impeccable. Your current attire is shabby, your hygiene deplorable, and your hairstyle worthy of a stray dog. It’s not at all befitting a property of the princess.

Mordred clenched his fists, anger flaring abruptly in his eyes:

- Property? A toy? Who exactly do you think you are?" he spat with palpable contempt. And who exactly is this famous princess? You all talk about her as if I already knew her!

The steward stared at him for a moment with a mixture of incomprehension and condescending pity, slowly raising an eyebrow:

- Really?" he murmured with a mocking smile. You’re pretending not to know? You’ve already seen her up close, human, you’ve spoken directly to her. Several times, in fact.

Mordred frowned even more, shaking his head in annoyance:

- It still doesn’t tell me who she is. I’ve had enough of your little games, tell me clearly who she is!

The steward sighed deeply, clearly irritated by Mordred’s apparent ignorance:

- Are you really that stupid, or are you just pretending?" he asked slowly, his tone icy. The princess who takes such an interest in you, who personally cares for you... she’s the one who came to visit you personally in your cell last night. The same person who used her special right of favor to exempt you from work at the mine not long ago.

Mordred felt his heart freeze, his eyes widening at the sudden revelation.

- That girl... is she the princess?" he murmured, stunned, suddenly remembering the mysterious face beneath the hood, that mischievous, provocative smile, that gentle yet terribly dangerous voice. But... why? Why me?

The steward slowly shrugged his shoulders with cold indifference:

- Who knows what the princess might see in a human like you? Perhaps a simple whim, or perhaps a deeper interest... It doesn’t matter. All you need to remember is that you now represent the Princess’ personal image to royalty. Don’t disappoint her.

Mordred turned his eyes slowly away from the carriage windows, silently contemplating the arid landscape that rapidly unfolded beneath them. His mind bubbled with questions, anger and frustration mixed with intense confusion. Finally, he murmured in a low voice, almost to himself:

- She treats me like a toy, like a pet. How can she even think I’m going to accept this?

The steward gave a slight ironic chuckle, answering coldly:

- Because she knows very well that you have no other choice, human. That’s the way this world works. Be intelligent, and you might survive long enough to understand that resistance is useless against the power of dragons.

The carriage suddenly slowed down, descending slowly towards an immense, dark structure, its high towers bristling with menacing peaks and surrounded by gigantic dragon statues spitting immense stone flames. The Palace of the Burning Fangs stood proudly, a terrifying symbol of the absolute domination of the dragon royal family.

The intendant rose slowly, adjusting his clothes with precision:

- We’ve arrived. Follow me without any scandal. Your transformation begins immediately.

Mordred stared at him intensely, a dark fire shining in his determined eyes:

- I’ll never forget this. You can break me physically, force me to obey you, but one day I’ll make every one of you pay for the atrocities you’ve inflicted on me.

The steward smiled coldly, calmly opening the carriage door:

- Keep this dream if it helps you cope with your new reality, human. But for now, do what’s expected of you.

Mordred climbed down silently, knowing full well that this evening marked the beginning of a whole new phase in his life as a slave.

Before him, the palace’s heavy doors slowly opened, revealing a sumptuous yet terrifying interior, filled with slaves busy preparing for the coronation ceremony. Mordred took a deep breath, ready to face what awaited him behind those dark, imposing walls.

The servants guided Mordred into an immense room bathed in light subdued by large windows adorned with crimson curtains embroidered with gold thread. The décor was opulent, richly adorned with gold and precious stones, in painful contrast to the squalid surroundings to which he had been accustomed. Every step on the black marble floor echoed, amplifying his latent nervousness.

In the center of the room, near a huge window overlooking the palace gardens, the slim, graceful figure of a young woman stood motionless, dressed in an elegant gown of subtle dark tones. The dragon princess. Mordred recognized her immediately, despite her turned back. A shiver of irritation and disgust ran down his spine as he recalled the impaled bodies of the revolting slaves.

The princess turned slowly as she heard the footsteps, revealing a surprisingly gentle face with delicate features, contrasting with the cruelty he now knew to be inscribed in the soul of her species. His violet eyes, piercing but imbued with a strange shyness, came to rest on Mordred with an almost embarrassed expression.

- Oh, you’re here at last... she said in a soft, almost hesitant voice, playing nervously with a lock of her ebony hair. Thank you for bringing him here. Could you leave us alone for a few moments, please?" she asked the servants gently, looking at them with unexpected humility.

The servants bowed immediately, visibly surprised by the princess’s unusual gentleness, before leaving discreetly, gently closing the door behind them.

No sooner had the door closed than Mordred perceived an immediate change in the atmosphere. The princess, hitherto so gentle and reserved, slowly straightened up, as if a mask had fallen away to reveal her true nature. Her gaze, now filled with a provocative assurance, focused intensely on him, a dangerous but undeniably fascinating gleam in her eyes.

- So, Mordred..." she breathed softly, her voice taking on a velvety, sensual, almost predatory tone. Here at last is my dear personal toy, completely transformed, ready to be presented to all...

Mordred remained impassive, his face a cold fortress of barely concealed calm and contempt:

- Jouet, he repeated coldly, with palpable contempt in his voice. Can’t you think of a better word for your whim?

She smiled slowly, not the least bit embarrassed by his coldness, and approached him slowly, her graceful, calculated gait giving off an aura as attractive as it was threatening:

- Oh, but that’s exactly what you are, Mordred. A whim, a curiosity. An enigma that I’m enjoying unraveling bit by bit.

When she got close, she gently raised her delicate hand and lightly grazed the scar on Mordred’s face with a thin, cold finger. He tensed imperceptibly under her touch, but didn’t move, refusing to show the slightest sign of weakness in front of her. His face remained closed, an impenetrable wall of cold, controlled anger.

- That scar," she murmured in a fascinated voice, her eyes shining with a strange gleam, "it suits you perfectly... dangerous and beautiful at the same time, like the blade of a sharp dagger.

Mordred, feeling a shiver of repulsion run through his body at this contact, stepped back slightly, giving her a dark, contemptuous look:

- Spare me your ridiculous flattery, he replied curtly. If I’m here, it’s only because I have no choice. Believe me, I’d rather be somewhere else, far away from you and your cruel kind.

She let out a light laugh, almost melodious, but with a strangely menacing accent:

- So impetuous, so full of anger... you don’t know how irresistible that makes you, Mordred," she said in a seductive, almost whispered voice. That hatred in your eyes, that contempt you barely hide... it’s so exciting. It’s so... fascinating.

She turned slowly around him, her burning gaze roving over his figure with curiosity mingled with obvious desire. Mordred remained motionless, but inwardly, his mind bubbled with anger and disgust.

Every word, every gesture she made only fanned the flames of his rage towards her and all her people.

She stopped in front of him, plunging her deep, imperious gaze into his:

- But don’t worry, my dear toy. I don’t intend to break your determination just yet... I’d much rather play with you slowly. A toy broken too soon loses all its charm, don’t you think?

He stared at her coldly, his eyes burning with a dull, dangerous anger:

- Play as much as you like, Princess. But one day, I promise, I’ll make every one of your games particularly bitter.

Her smile slowly widened, becoming almost carnivorous, clearly excited by the silent challenge he was throwing at her:

- I’m counting on you for that, Mordred... after all, that’s what makes things so much fun between us.

Then suddenly, as if she’d grown weary of his game, her expression became serious and distant again, her attitude more pragmatic:

- Listen to me carefully now. You’re here for a reason. Tonight, you’ll simply have to follow me, stay by my side, and represent what you really are: my personal toy, my exclusive possession. Your mere presence will be a declaration of power to the other noble dragons. So behave yourself, keep quiet and play your part to the full, got it?

Mordred clenched his fists, struggling to suppress his seething anger:

- You’re all monsters," he spat contemptuously. This masquerade won’t change what you really are.

She shrugged gently, smiling coldly:

- Maybe. But tonight, Mordred, you’re going to behave like an obedient toy, otherwise, I’m afraid the consequences will be extremely unpleasant for you... and for others you might like.

Mordred’s face darkened even more, knowing exactly to whom she was referring. He didn’t reply, but her icy, determined gaze clearly spoke for him.

- Perfect," she said with satisfaction as she moved slowly towards the door, her violet eyes gazing intently at him one last time. Get ready, the ceremony starts soon, and I hate waiting.

The door closed behind her with a soft thud, leaving Mordred alone, his heart filled with a dark, icy rage, more determined than ever to never cede even the smallest piece of his soul to her.

- I’m not your toy," he murmured with cold determination in his eyes. And soon you’ll understand that this dangerous game was just a mistake you’ll bitterly regret.