The Draconsteed

Dear sweet Luna, my head. What happened?

She awoke with a pounding migraine. The back of her head throbbed, sending a fresh wave of pain over her. She groaned as she lifted a leg to her aching skull.

Or tried to.

It took her a moment to realize she couldn't move. As the haze slowly lifted from her mind she became aware that something heavy was draped over her.  She softly opened her eyes. Everything was a blur of color. Her eyes rested on a grey blur as everything started coming into focus. She noticed a large metal hoop wrapped around another, and another, and....

Chains? Why am I in chains?

As thoughts swirled through her head she remembered the moments before she blacked out. She remembered reading a newspaper in the park. freaking out after she read the date that it was printed. Everything went black after she screamed.

* Squeak*

The sudden noise tore her from her thoughts. She then became aware of a soft rumbling under her. Her binds wouldn't let her raise her head, let alone look around, so she cast an eye skyward. The tops of trees were slowly moving past her.

Great, what fresh new Tartarus have I gotten myself into now?

Hours passed, the sky was a vibrant display of orange and pink before she could make out the dull roar of civilization. As she was pulled closer the noise started to become deafening. The chorus of voices, coupled with the inability to move, made her scales itch. Her heart started to pound in her ears as paranoia slowly crept over her. Years of combat and training told her to expect the worst. Doubt crept into her mind and whispered one thought into her ear.

Your going to die.

She broke into a cold sweat. She began thrashing at her chains, the wooden cart beneath her groaned in protest but held fast. The noise around her died down to nervous whispers. After a full minute of hopeless thrashing all she did was get her snout lose. Her will broken she laid down, defeated. One last thought crept into her mind as she lay there. If she was going to die, she wasn't going to do it quietly. Drinking in a deep breath of air, she opened her mouth and did the only thing she could. She sang.

"The lights come up on cafe windows; a stale glow.

The smell of day old bread and cigarettes, and on a table a magazine is open to a page upon which words have framed the quaint and shining smiles of a promise left unbroken, but forgotten over time.

Dearest love, don't you dare believe it.

What you want, you won't ever need it.

Silhouette, you gave your word and broke it.

Stand and pick off sounds in the dark where the steel meets the land.

Up above the river's arms in the graveyard of the stars.

Here, the warrior tore the sky and did not appologize.

His love in stone and glass, and in the deepest caverns hides.

Dearest love, don't you dare believe it.

What you want, they won't ever need it.

Silhouette, you gave your word and broke it.

So let 'em see you when you're strong and laughing at the world.

For the longest they can hold out; uncomfortable at best.

For the ways that we change and we stay the same and the tedium of parts.

For the teller, from the bottle, for the tyranny of hearts.

Dearest love, don't you dare believe it.

What you want, you won't ever need it.

There were walls long before the timid.

And all of you can just keep believing, one time told is the story ended."

The song of the pony who gave her the gift of music washed over her, calming and preparing her for anything that came. When she finished she noticed that the cart had stopped moving. Looking upwards she saw not the night sky but a far away stone ceiling. She was about to say something when she was wrenched from the cart. Six night guards dragged her to the center of the room before releasing her. They then backed away, far enough that they were out of her reach but close enough to react if she tried anything. She was then met with a thunderous boom of a voice, younger than what she was accustomed to but unmistakable all the same. She looked up and was met not by the old wrinkled ruler of the night but a young princess.

"What art thou, creature?"