Rose and Delilah headed into the cafeteria the morning after with varying degrees of reluctance. Delilah was still unnerved from being attacked last night, but Rose was more unnerved by her own actions.
Rose had never been a violent girl. She never lost her temper in public, she never even raised her voice to Mother Mara. When Rose felt angry, she would run away into the forest with Mr. Whiskers until she calmed down enough, so that whatever made her mad didn't bother her anymore. If she couldn't do that, then she would sit in her bed and get lost in a good book until her anger was a distant memory. She had always been good about her anger, Mother Mara would tell her. It was something of a proud point for the girl.
Unlike the other children that came and went from the orphanage, Rose didn't stew in her anger. She didn't resent Mother Mara or the other adults that took care of her. She didn't lash out. She didn't argue.
Rose was a good girl.
So losing her temper in such a spectacular manner—actually punching the person who had saved her—was deeply unsettling to her. It made her feel physically sick, and like she might throw up at any moment if she thought too much about it.
Rose had given in to her anger and reacted violently to it. It was against everything she had known about herself—everything she was raised to believe.
Use your words, never your fists, Mother Mara had told everyone.
Rose didn't punch people. She didn't attack people.
She was a good girl.
But dragons attacked people.
Dragons were bloodthirsty. Dragons were violent.
And all those cruel words her bullies accused her of being circled in her head. Rose had been so adamant about denying them, but after last night, how could she? Rose threw herself at a monster in her fit of anger, wanting nothing more than to harm it—to destroy it! Exactly what a dragon would have wanted to, but never what Rose would have wanted to do.
Am I going to turn into a monster? Rose questioned, her hands starting to shake as her stomach heaved. Are they right? Am I already a-a monster?
Rose stopped walking towards the cafeteria, tears pricking at her eyes. Delilah noticed and turned back towards her, her pale blue eyes looking at her with worry.
"Rose? A-are you o-okay?"
A shudder ran through Rose, and she felt like something was going to come up. She clutched at her mouth, turned, and sprinted towards her dorm. Her eyes burned as her vision blurred, and she didn't stop no matter what happened until she threw herself into her bathroom and slammed the door shut.
Hiccups escaped her lips, and the ten-year-old girl buried her face in her arms as she cried. She sobbed, thinking only how she didn't want to be a monster. Her entire body shook, and she struggled to catch her breath. Rose cried until no more tears would come out, and exhaustion weighed heavily upon her.
Rose tiredly laid down on the cold stone of her cave-bathroom, her tail curling around her. Her limbs were bags of sand, and she couldn't bring herself to get up. She knew she would be missing class if she didn't get up soon, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Why should a monster go to class?
Rose closed her eyes as more tears slipped out.
I don't want to be a monster.
Without meaning to, Rose slipped into an uncomfortable sleep.
...🌹...
Her uncle gave her a soft smile. "You're not a monster."
Rose placed her head on the white table in front of her. "I am. I-I wanted to hurt someone. I punched Mortem after he saved me!"
"He was a bit of a brat for not helping sooner," her uncle said flippantly. "But I assure you: you're not a monster."
"You're only saying that. You can't—"
"Dearest," her uncle interrupted, "I know monsters. Losing your temper doesn't make you a monster, and neither does having dragon blood define you. Dragons are not the monsters some would have you believe."
"Everyone—"
"Listening to ignorant little children who have never even met a proper dragon is a waste of your time," he told her. "Your father was one of the greatest beings I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and has one of the noblest souls I have ever seen. Dragons—while certainly powerful warriors—are not bloodthirsty villains that the Community would have you believe. The Community has only painted them as such to make them scapegoats of Fryst's war, and only recently have been able to even begin to step out of that shadow.
"You are not a monster, Rose. Dragons are not monsters. Do not let those fools manipulate you into doubting yourself or make you any less proud of what you are," he said vehemently. "I have watched over you for a decade. I know your heart as well as my own, and the day you turn into a monster is the day that I clip my wings."
Rose didn't know how to respond to that. He was supposed to be her uncle, so of course he would say she wasn't a monster. How could she believe him? He could simply be saying pretty words that Rose wanted to hear instead of the truth.
There was no denying that Rose lost her temper and acted violently. That was a fact.
Dragons led a war that killed a lot of humans. That was a fact.
Dragons were so violent and bloodthirsty that they had to be banished. That was a fact.
Rose was a dragon. So then Rose—
"Stop," he said, his voice soft again. "Stop thinking those things, because they simply aren't true. You are yourself, Rose. Having a dragon for a father doesn't define you any more than your hair color."
Rose closed her eyes and shook her head.
Dragons were monsters. Rose was a dragon. Therefore—
"Stop," he said again, reaching out a cold hand to wipe away tears that spilled from her eyes. "Oh, little battle maiden, please don't think such horrible things about yourself. Your logic is a fallacy, don't believe in it."
"I wanted to hurt someone," she whispered shakily. "I—"
"You're a child," he told her. "You're allowed to be angry at times. After everything you've had to go through, anyone would have—"
...🌹...
Rose woke up with a start. Her head pounded, and her stomach snarled at her. Her back and wings ached from sleeping on such hard flooring, and Rose sat up slowly. She stretched her wings and arms, feeling a yawn escape her.
With shaky legs, Rose stood up and approached the sink. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and some of her fangs peeked out from her lips. Rose stared down at her clawed hands and felt another shudder go through her. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face with it, took a deep breath, and headed out.
Rose couldn't bring herself to go to class quite yet. The idea of interrupting a lecture and drawing everyone's attention to her made her anxious. As much as she wanted to simply stay in her room for the rest of the day and deal with whatever was to come tomorrow, she knew it would only be worse if she did that.
So, Rose headed to the cafeteria, deciding to wait there until lunch time. She would go to her afternoon classes, and hopefully no one would bring up how disheveled she looked, or how puffy her eyes still were, or the fact that she couldn't make her tail go away.
Rose slunk into the cafeteria and took a seat at one of the tables. She pulled out her Blue Magic textbook and flipped open to the chapter they were supposed to have gone over that morning. Rose stared at the pages, trying to focus on the words, but found it difficult. She had to reread the same paragraph multiple times before her mind finally understood.
She rubbed her eyes and scratched her cheeks, feeling more frustrated with herself than before.
"Professor Yūei doesn't normally accept absences."
Startled, Rose whipped her head around to find Mortem sliding into the seat next to her. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
He cocked his head at her.
She flushed, remembering last night. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have punched you. I'm very, very sorry."
Mortem cocked his head. "You call that weak tap a punch?"
Rose bristled, her anger surging forth. She could feel her face heating up, and she wondered if he would still call it a weak tap if she did it again.
He waved his hand dismissively. "No need to apologize for something so adorably pathetic."
She flushed, uncertain how to take his words. Part of her felt indigent, while the rest of her was glad he was willing to put the whole thing behind the two of them. She thought he could have at least accepted her apology properly, but maybe this was Mortem's way of showing that he didn't think an apology was necessary.
Maybe. It was hard to guess since Rose couldn't even see his face and had to judge everything by his tone of voice.
She settled on choosing to push past it, and said, "W-well, thank you, I guess."
Mortem shrugged, resting his head in one of hands and looking at her with that eerie purple light. "Did the monster bang you up that bad you had to skip?"
"I'm fine," Rose told him, her tail waving in agitation.
"Really." It was a question, but his tone was laced with heavy skepticism.
"Really," Rose stressed. "What are you doing here?"
"I missed a bit of class to talk with the headmaster. It's not every day a monster attacks students, you know. The fact the wards didn't even notice it there implies some rather unsavory things."
In spite of herself, Rose couldn't help but ask, "What do you mean?"
"Well, it was a construct," Mortem began, "which means it was created by someone using Yellow Magic."
Rose blinked in surprise at that, recalling her conversation with Basileus. "Isn't Yellow Magic illegal?"
"It's definitely illegal," Mortem agreed. "The knowledge how to do so is kept locked away in the bowels of Atlantis, and there are only a handful of people in the Community who know enough about it to pass it on to others. What's even more disturbing, though, is that the wards didn't pick up on it."
"Meaning?"
Mortem chuckled again. "A student created it. Isn't that interesting? None of the students here have connections with anyone who would know Yellow Magic—or know enough to be able to perform it, at least. Your kingdom's princess might know enough from her grandfather if he taught her, but I doubt Lord Vladimirion would ever do such a thing."
"And Havi would never do that," Rose added.
"Mn."
When Mortem didn't say anything else, Rose returned to her book.
"Why did you cry?"
Rose looked back up from her work, her fingers curling around the pages. She tried to meet his gaze, but suddenly found it hard to. Even if she couldn't see his eyes—only the ethereal glow of one of them peeking out from a shroud of darkness—she could feel his focused gaze on her. He was looking at her with a certain level of intensity that made Rose uncomfortable.
Words spilled out of her without her wanting them to. "I acted like a monster."
That seemed to throw him for a loop. Disbelief radiated off him, and then he burst out into raspy laughter. "Wh-what? One punch and you're a-a-a monster?"
Rose's cheeks burned with humiliation, and her hands unconsciously curled into fists. "It—it's not just that! I've never—"
"You need to do a little research in biology and what exactly this thing called adrenaline does," he wheezed. "Oh my. You were honestly so worked up about something so little?"
"It's not little! Everyone says h-how bloodthirsty dragons are—how they're so violent a-and—they're even—"
Mortem placed a gloved hand over Rose's mouth, cutting her off before she could get too worked up. "You recite the words of ignorant children. Have you talked to anyone who has ever met a dragon before?"
Rose mutely shook her head.
Mortem removed his hand with a sigh. "It's true that dragons revere a proper battle. They enjoy dueling with one another, considering it an honorable sport. That doesn't mean they are malicious. They never aim to kill in their duels, and they would never attack an unarmed opponent."
"But—"
"Dragons are victims of an old truth: winners write history. It is true they followed their king, Fryst, into a horrible war, but it wasn't ever out of malice or desire to harm anyone. When they ultimately lost, they voluntarily left, and they created the barrier around their home world. They forced themselves into isolation, far away from humans and Neheburs out of grief and regret for what they had done. It was the ultimate punishment they could think of, and it's disheartening to see how far history has twisted them."
"How could you possibly—"
"You can find a lot for yourself if you know who to ask, and where to look," he said. "The Community has painted the dragons as the sole villains of that tragedy, when that was not true. Vampires, elves, mers, and many more sided with the dragons—"
Rose gasped. "What? They all wanted to kill humans?"
"No," Mortem said. "Never. It was never Fryst's intention to kill humans—"
Mortem sighed. "It was never that simple. Genocide was never what he wanted," he whispered softly. "He loved humans, as we all did. He even fell in love with one, you see."
Rose's eyes widened at that.
"Humans lived separate from us, but they knew about us. We did not impose upon their world, and we let them run as they saw fit. Like the humans of the Surface Realm, they divided amongst each other and fought. Wars broke out, and they destroyed their lands to get the final blow on the enemy. They were awful to one another. Fryst loved a young woman, and she loved him, but she went to war for her country and she did not return.
"He could not forgive himself for not protecting her. Oh, how he hated himself, and wallowed in grief upon her grave. For a decade, he slowly killed himself by refusing to leave her, but before death could take him, he had his own epiphany. He told his kind that humans shouldn't do such horrible things to themselves. That they needed to be protected. They needed us to guide them towards peace. He wanted all living creatures to be united, and to live without war.
"He rallied his kingdom of dragons, and many allies flocked to his side. He cried out that humans would never be harmed again under his watchful rule. He took to their world with cold determination. Those that defied him—that fought against his plan to unite the humans—were slaughtered without a thought. He forced them to give up their countries, their kingdoms, their identities. He forced them into his little utopia, and any that displayed violence was meticulously clipped out.
"The humans were at peace, or so he believed, but in truth, they lived in constant terror of him. He was neither gentle, nor understanding of their mistakes. Failure to comply meant immediate death, and there would be no second chances. Not even for children.
"Because of their fear, they could no longer create things with love, and no creations were born. Magic slowly died out around them, and their world began to rot. Fryst couldn't understand why—he couldn't see what he was doing wrong. All he wanted was for them to live in peace, and to never fight again. But he took away their free will to do so, and what is a human without choice? Their inner turmoil reflected upon their lands, and it wasn't long before the humans could no longer survive on their home world.
"It was then that the others had gathered enough courage and strength to fight against Fryst's army. It was an awful and cruel war that no one really won. It was too late for the humans, and none of them survived the loss of their home. Fryst and his fellow dragons were consumed with grief and rage, and so they had no choice but to banish themselves far away.
"The Elders found another world, though—through means unknown to the Community—and they created a Crossroad. It was agreed upon that the Community would never interfere with humans again, no matter their choices. The Elders formed the Curtain, and Elder Maylanna ensured that the dragons took the entire blame for the human genocide, with Elder Fryst serving as their mascot."
Rose swallowed, surprised at Mortem's story. "How awful. He only wanted to help and—and it caused so much pain."
"Grief is a powerful motivator," Mortem agreed quietly. "And love is even greater. It is a shame that the dragons are still paying for Fryst's mistake after all these millennia, but I hope you don't take it to heart."
That made Rose smile a bit. "It's good to know he wasn't all evil, but it's—it's simply so terrible how it ended. Do you think he still loves her? Do you think he still misses her?"
"He does," Mortem answered with surprising confidence. "Love like that doesn't leave you."
"How would you know? How do you even know all of this?"
"Mn. It's not hard to find the answers if you know where to look."
Rose was quiet at his words, taking everything in. A part of her—a part of her was strangely happy. That dragons weren't such malicious Neheburs, and that their motives seemed good. Rose didn't agree with what they did—most definitely not!—but she felt better about them. She didn't feel quite so disgusted with them, and instead, she felt something closer to pity.
Monsters didn't love, after all.
"So do you—do you think they're monsters?" Rose asked Mortem quietly.
"Monsters? No. I think they love a bit too much, if anything. Dragons are weepy beings by nature, you know."
A strangled laugh escaped Rose. Loved too much? Was that really a thing?
"The Community—they don't see it that way. Nearly everyone who was actually there passed on, leaving behind their fear and hatred to be carried by their children," Mortem said softly, an almost sad note in his voice. "Even when many hear the truth, it'll be too hard to swallow. They're terrified of others following Fryst's example, of anyone else joining him. So they paint him, and those like him, as the boogeyman to scare anyone off. In their haste to do so, though, they overlook and condemn an entire species."
"It's not right."
"No. It's not."
Rose looked down at her hands, her eyes glued on her black claws. She wondered what other dragons thought of the Community. Did they hate them? Did they approve of what the Community was doing? Did they pity them?
Or did they feel like Rose felt? That it was wrong—and it had to be fixed. Did they want to, but simply couldn't? They were bound, in more ways than one, to Desoul.
Rose wasn't, though. She was the first dragon allowed amongst the Community. Rose was the first dragon many students had ever met.
Did she leave a good impression? Did they think twice about the war? Could she change their minds?
Could she change the Community's mind? Rose's hands clenched into fists.
She didn't know. She honestly wasn't confident, but—
Things must change. No one should go through this. Even if I fail, I must take that first step. If I can only make it a bit easier for the next one who follows me—if I can only help carry that burden—
I must try.
"I'll change it," Rose said quietly. "I'll change their minds about dragons. I'm going to do it."
Mortem looked at her and said, "I believe it.