What Your Love Felt Like: The Dragon Saga

Draco entered his court with a fierce expression on his face. He was back because he needed to. His people needed him. And he needed to normalize things for his son. His ministers quickly rose from their seats, bowing in respect. But they looked unprepared. And some even looked uncomfortable. They definitely didn't seem to expect Draco to come back so soon.

The Dragon Lord acknowledged their presence with a sharp nod and took his seat on the throne with a sharp twirl of his cloak. It sent a gust of wind which made all his ministers cover their eyes. His eyes scanned the room in the meantime, taking in the familiar surroundings that he had missed during his absence.

One of the ministers, a small dragon with bright orange scales, cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, we are pleased to have you back in your rightful place."

Draco's expression did not soften. "Thank you, Minister Glimmer. Now, let's get down to business. What affairs require my attention?"

A dark green dragon stepped forward. "Your Majesty, there has been an uprising among the dragon miners. They are demanding higher wages and better working conditions."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "And what have we done to quell this uprising?"

"We have tried negotiating with them, Your Majesty," the minister replied, "but they refuse to back down. They have become emboldened and are threatening to halt production."

Draco's expression turned to one of contempt. "Those miners should count themselves lucky to be working for me. They will receive no more than what they are currently paid, and if they continue to cause trouble, they will be replaced." Another minister, a large dragon with deep blue scales, spoke up. "Your Majesty, there is also a matter of a neighboring kingdom that is encroaching on our borders. They have been stealing our resources and harassing our patrols." Draco's eyes frowned, "The Hounds? "

The minister shook his head and added, " The Wyverns."

The Wyverns were driven out from the borders of the Dragon realm by Draco's father, himself. They were unheard of as a threat till that moment. They must have heard about the inconsistency in Draco's leadership and thought the moment was great to get back what they once had.

Draco's eyes blazed with fury. "How dare they disrespect our sovereignty. Send a warning to them, and if they do not heed it, we will respond with force.I will rip their serpent hides with my very hand. Master. " Draco turned with a sharp twist at him, "Yes my Lord." He came forward.

"I want the heads of the Hounds, arranged on a platter and sent as a gift to the Wyverns. "

Master bowed with a hint of a smile on his face, " It will be done as you have instructed my Lord." Seeing Draco back in his essence, satisfied the Master like nothing else.

The ministers nodded in agreement, and the meeting continued with various other matters being discussed, including trade negotiations with other kingdoms and the construction of a new headquarter and other expansions.

As the meeting drew to a close, Draco's expression was one of satisfaction. He knew that his rule was absolute and that his kingdom was strong. He may have been ruthless, but he was also fair. Those who served him loyally were rewarded, while those who dared to cross him were swiftly dealt with.

"We will take our leave then! " Master dismissed the ministers after the court was adjourned.

Draco nodded.

As the ministers filed out of the court, Draco remained seated on his throne, lost in thought. He knew that there were always those who would challenge his authority, but he was prepared to meet them head-on. The Dragon Lord was a force to be reckoned with, and those who dared to oppose him would soon regret their actions.

However, despite everything, he found himself so alone even with a court full of dragons. He felt hollow. He sat there with his chin, resting over his hand. His feet tapped to some silent music, the rhythm of which only he could hear.

He did feel like going back to his chamber, nor did he feel like taking a flight outside.

He sat there like a sculpture in making, lost in deep turmoil with his melancholy.