The Dragon's Kiss

A few days passed in that underground room. Lila came in often and acted as Kel's maid, bringing food, clothes and hygiene items.

The quality of lifestyle in the supposed underground bunker was astonishing. The washroom had a water spout on the wall that could fill the tub as well as a small wash basin. The food was delicious, as good as any she'd had in her life.

If not for the fact that the room had no windows, and the strange claustrophobic feelings that plagued her every so often, Kel would have never believed she was buried deep within the earth.

"Isn't about time you tell me why I'm here?" Kel asked frustratedly one morning as Lila ran an oiled comb through her hair.

Since she'd come here, hair care had become the major focus of her day. Lila ensured it was brushed and cleaned regularly and always shining.

"Shall I tell you a story?" the woman responded with a soft smile.

"If it involves me and what they want with me, then go ahead," Kel grumbled.

Lila chuckled. "I think you might find it very enlightening."

As she brushed Kel's hair with long even strokes, she began her tale. It was the same story from the scroll Kel had found in the library and the passages she had read from the journal in the emperor's room--the whole story.

A thousand years ago, the continent was nothing like it was now. Rather than organized cities and roads, the land was covered with tribes who traveled by forest path and mountain pass. Most of the smaller tribes had no idea other people besides themselves existed. The larger tribes, however, brought destruction and suffering upon anyone else they met.

It was a dark time. The ground was uncultivated and wild, and so were the people. Eventually a few of the larger groups expanded, and the battles they fought against each other were great enough to be called wars. All who stood in their way were decimated.

Amidst all the chaos, there was a tiny community, hidden away in the heart of the northern mountains. In spite of the grim conditions of that place, they thrived in secrecy. Having been left alone for so long, they learned to work together and organize their society in a surprisingly modern way.

The leader of this thriving community was a forward-thinking man called Halrad. He ruled over and served alongside his people, ensuring peace and prosperity among all. And so they flourished, like a brilliant pink lenten rose against the frigid snow.

Over time, the people began to travel, establishing trading partners among the various tribes just south of their mountain home. Under Halrad's leadership, they continued their expansion, spreading their wealth and goods across the continent.

It wasn't long, however, until Halrad and his people ran into the great violent tribes of the southeast. They barely managed to escape with their lives after their first encounter, but Halrad was determined. He returned several times, offering negotiations and peace offerings.

His efforts were seemingly in vain, however, as the tribes rejected his ideals and continued to destroy each other. Saddened but not disheartened, the fearless leader began approaching smaller tribes, encouraging them to band together in order to establish peace across the continent.

There were some who thought Halrad was too much of a busybody, that he needed to mind his own tribe and nobody else. Many, however, believed in his vision and followed him toward a world free of suffering.

As he gathered his followers, the great tribes began to hear rumors of an enormous army forming against them. They wasted no time banding together and marching on to battle.

Halrad and his people were completely unprepared to fight. Their goal, after all, was to make peace. As the army of the great tribes slaughtered men, women and children alike, those who could escape were forced to flee back to the north. Most who didn't die at the hands of the barbarians died from the cold and impassable terrain.

Suddenly, Halrad found himself trapped against his own mountains, his ideals tattered and stomped on, with unbeatable armies approaching. His ambitions had only resulted in bloodshed and pain.

With his followers running low on food and spirit, he made the decision to seek Njal, the great beast god of the mountains.

After dividing the last of the rations, he set off with the promise he would find a way to save them. For three days and nights, he trekked endlessly toward the top of the highest peak in the mountain range: the summit of the gods.

Nobody knows exactly what happened there, but Halrad returned triumphantly, riding on the back of a fearsome black dragon. His hair was no longer the same dark color as the rest of the northerners, but a brilliant golden yellow, glinting in the sun as he cried out to his people.

More dragons appeared, and soon a fleet of armed men atop winged beasts followed Halrad to battle against the great tribes. The black dragon gave Halrad a portion of his power and together they burned the vile men to extinction.

After their victory, Halrad's people bid farewell to the dragons and set off to establish a new home in the fertile eastern lands. With the power of a dragon flowing through his veins, Halrad easily united the continent, finally accomplishing his victory.

As he grew older, haunted by the memories of his great slaughter, he left the ruler's throne to his children. Like their father, they all possessed magnificent blonde hair and incredible power. The fierce royal line continued for over a century, until the tales of old were left behind and uprisings of the people led to wars and secession.

When the continent began to split into separate countries, each group of people wanting to govern themselves, the royal bloodline began to disappear. Centuries later, golden haired descendents of Halrad were rare.

According to rumors, however, there were those who still remembered the old times and waited for the next true ruler to appear, brandishing the power of a dragon. One group resided in the ancient empire's vast capital city, creating an entire underground community to dwell in while they searched.

Another group resided in the northern mountains, the final resting place of Halrad, the first emperor. They kept to themselves, completely cut off from the world as they passed down their founder's magnificent achievements and prayed to the great beast gods to send another emperor.

"The group of believers in the capital.." Kel trailed off, looking at Lila expectantly.

"That's right," the woman nodded. "The Yellow Marguerite. Though, the name tends to change from generation to generation."

"Then.. me…" Kel gulped, studying her shimmering golden hair as it cascaded gracefully down her shoulders.

Lila shrugged, setting the comb on the table next to the bed.

"You truly have magnificent hair, Your Highness."