Chapter Text
A full moon marked high tide over the Dragonlord's castle. Dark clouds brimming with thunder haunted the skies, creating rigid shadows that sunk through the brutal stone walls.
With a sharpened blade in his right hand, and a polished shield in his left, Alef, the prophesied descendant of Erdrick, traversed through the halls of the grim palace.
He had completed every task the people asked of him. He had even saved the Princess of Alefgard, much to the King's delight. Now all that was left was to finish off the Dragonlord.
With a fierce kick of his foot, the doors to the throne room were thrust open. Alef's eyes briefly scanned the room before locking onto the menacing dragon sat upon a dais, lounging his scaly behind on a velvety throne.
The Dragonlord took precious time to lift his chin, a satisfied grin crept along his purple lips. Straightening his spine, he gazed down upon the hero below him, eyes gleaning with morbid excitement.
"Ah… So, thou art come before me at last! I am the Dragonlord, master of masters, king of kings!" his voice rumbled throughout the room, cold enough to send a physical shiver down Alef's spine. "Long have I awaited this moment. Welcome to my humble abode, dear hero."
The conniving purple dragon tilted his chin downward. Alef captured a full glimpse of that deadly glimmer in his eye. His heart pounded heavily against the Auroral Armor fastened securely to his frame. Despite the overwhelming, and admittedly gaudy, intimidation, Alef remained steadfast.
"Come, Hero!" The Dragonlord demanded, extending a clawed hand towards the blond male. "Take thy rightful place at my side! Do so, and I will grant unto thee dominion over half this world!"
Alef remained frozen. His eyes studied the Dragonlord's strangely persuasive, or perhaps manipulative, expression. The blond's lips slowly parted, and a hint of something unreadable passed through his eyes—guilt, or perhaps shame, for even taking a chance at wondering what life could be like if he dared accept?
Cold, hard calculating irises studied Alef's indecisive ones, making him subtly shift under the uncomfortable pressure. Something dark gripped at Alef's heart, nagging like tight ropes he wishes could just snap. Something else tugged at Alef's mind, something more… pure.
The Goddess' light, a feeling so constant and reverent that lasted throughout his entire journey, and even before then. Though he couldn't hear her voice directly, he could always sense she was watching over him like a guardian, ensuring that he survived the next battle, and the next, and the next.
Sucking in a deep breath, Alef cleared his mind, schooling his expression back to that decisive determination he had mastered. All the while, the Dragonlord waited patiently, his fingers sharply rapping against the spine of his curved staff.
When Alef opened his eyes again, he held his chin high and firmly shook his head.
"No."
His answer. A wave of relief loosened his shoulders, and the light surrounding him blossomed.
The Dragonlord's face fell, his excitement and anticipation replaced with a flicker of disappointment. "...Thou wishest not for half of the world?"
Clutching his staff a little tighter, he tried one last time. "Wilt thou not reconsider? 'Tis an offer few would refuse…"
Alef silently shook his head once more, and readjusted his grip on his sword with the intent to finish what had been started.
"No."