My Prince Rejected Me, So the Dragon Claimed Me
Liora · Completed · 9.0k Words
Introduction
My sister wanted my fiancé, so my family gave him to her.
My sister wanted my magic, so they pinned me down and carved the dragon scale straight out of my chest.
When she wanted the ultimate power of the Dragon Priestess, they framed me for a crime I didn't commit and chained me in a lightless dungeon so she could take my place to be Crimson Dragon Priestess.
But on the night of the coronation, the legendary Dragon Gate didn't descend upon the royal altar.
It crashed straight through the roof of my prison cell.
And the Dragon God only answers to blood.
Chapter 1
Above Blackwater Canyon, crimson clouds sprawled across the sky.
The cloud formation looked like a slumbering dragon, its scales lighting up one by one in the glow of the setting sun. Down in the North American-style town, people stepped out of their houses, all looking up in the same direction.
The omen of the Dragon Gate had descended.
Legend said that deep within Blackwater Canyon lay a Dragon Gate that only opened in specific eras. Whoever received the Dragon's Mark would earn the right to enter the gate and become a candidate for the dragon trials. In the past century, only members of House Morgan had ever been chosen.
A beam of crimson light pierced the clouds, striking the spire of the Morgan family estate.
Inside the great hall, the elders were still debating when hurried footsteps echoed from outside.
"The Dragon's Mark has appeared!"
"Who is it?"
Every head snapped toward the doorway.
I stood there, a crimson-gold crest hovering over my palm. The glowing lines looked like roaring flames, or perhaps a closed dragon’s eye, pulsing faintly with my every breath.
My mother, Helen, rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, her face lit up with pure ecstasy.
"It's you, Claire! It's really you!"
The hall instantly erupted into cheers.
"Our eldest daughter has been chosen by the Dragon Gate! House Morgan is going to have another Dragon Rider!"
"This is it! This will bring our family back to its peak!"
I just looked down at the mark on my palm. A searing power surged through my veins. I could clearly feel Blackwater Canyon calling out to me from afar.
I had been chosen.
This was the prophecy I had heard since I was a little girl, the ultimate goal I had bled and sweat for over the last sixteen years.
For sixteen years, I had woken up before dawn to practice dragon-breath techniques. I had knelt in the freezing snow to temper my mind, never uttering a single complaint even when my hands were covered in bloody blisters.
They had dumped the most dangerous and grueling training on me, claiming it was the "duty of the eldest daughter," and I had gritted my teeth and survived every single time. Waiting for fiancé, Ethan, to come into his own, I had rejected countless marriage proposals from other houses, shielding him from the elders' pressure and the outside world's gossip.
I thought I was protecting my family, and the betrothal that had belonged to me since birth.
But as I walked further into the great hall, the faint smile on my face froze.
In the center of the room sat a long table draped in white velvet. Resting on top of it was our ancestral dragon-kin betrothal token.
A black-gold ring.
Originally, the ring bore two names:
Claire Morgan.
Ethan Vale.
It was a betrothal arranged by the elders of both families the day I was born.
For the sake of this engagement, I had memorized all of Ethan's preferences. When he was injured, I had stood guard outside his door all night. When his training failed, I was the one who begged my father for leniency, the one who stayed up writing down my own cultivation notes page by page just for him. I used to believe that as long as I gave enough, we would stand side by side before the world on our wedding day.
But now, the names on the ring had changed.
My name had been sanded down, completely erased. In its place, a new line was carved.
Ethan Vale.
Lila Morgan.
I stared at the two names, my fingers slowly curling into a tight fist.
"What is this?" I asked.
No one answered immediately.
My mother's smile faltered for a second before she let out a soft sigh. "Claire, you just got back. Let's not get worked up."
"I asked, why are the names on the ring changed?"
The great hall fell dead silent.
Ethan stood by the table. He looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut.
It was my mother who spoke up first. "Lila's health has always been poor. The doctors said she can't handle stress, and she's fallen ill several times recently over this whole betrothal situation. The family simply made a safer arrangement."
I slowly turned my gaze to Lila, who was sitting on the sofa.
The girl looked pale and fragile, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders. She leaned against Ethan, looking as if even sitting up straight took too much effort. Hearing our mother's words, Lila immediately shook her head.
"Sister, it's not like that."
Lila looked up, her voice as faint as the wind.
"I don't want to steal your engagement, and I don't want this ring. But everyone kept saying that if I refused, my body wouldn't be able to handle the toll... I really didn't know what to do."
She finished speaking, pressed a hand to her chest, and coughed weakly.
My mother instantly rushed over to rub her back.
"Shh, don't speak. You can't afford to get upset right now."
"Lila, just rest."
"Didn't the doctor say you shouldn't be exposed to drafts today? Hurry, fix her blanket."
The crowd that had just been swarming me completely shifted their attention to Lila.
Watching the scene unfold, I suddenly understood.
Recarving the ring wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, nor was it a secret.
Everyone knew.
They had just waited for me to come home to hand me the verdict.
"Ethan." I locked eyes with my fiancé. "Did you agree to this too?"
Ethan stayed quiet for a moment before muttering, "Claire, you know Lila's condition. She's been frail since she was a kid, and the family just wants her to have some peace of mind. The official title of the betrothal might change, but our feelings for each other..."
"Are there even any feelings left between us?"
I cut him off cold.
Ethan's lips parted, but no words came out.
A sixteen-year engagement, a sacred ring—all of it could be effortlessly swapped out just because "she's in poor health."
I walked up to the long table and picked up the ring.
My mother frowned. "Put the ring down, Claire. Since it's already been recarved, it means the family has made its decision."
"The family's decision?"
I raised my head, my gaze piercing.
"And what about the Dragon Gate? Can you make decisions for the Dragon Gate too?"
The elders exchanged uneasy glances.
I opened my right hand, and the Dragon's Mark flared to life once more. The crimson-gold light pierced through my skin, bathing half the hall in a fierce, bloody glow.
"The Dragon Gate chose me."
I spoke, emphasizing every single word. "Not Lila. Not anyone else in House Morgan. And absolutely no one gets to transfer my right."
My mother's face dropped.
"Claire, the Dragon's Trial is a death trap. You might not even make it back alive! Lila needs someone to lean on, and Ethan should stay here with the family."
"So, first you arrange my betrothal, and now you want to arrange my fate?"
"This is for the family!"
"Then let the family bear the consequences."
I dropped the ring back onto the table and turned toward the door.
"Claire!" Ethan called out after me.
I didn't look back.
As I walked down the long corridor, the portraits of my ancestors blurred past me. The names that used to fill me with pride now brought nothing but disgust.
The ancestral altar was in a stone chamber adjacent to the hall.
I pushed the door open and placed the black-gold ring right in front of the ancestral tablets.
The blue flames in the brazier flickered, and the ring made a sharp clink against the stone.
From this day forward, my engagement to Ethan Vale ended right here.
I wasn't being kicked out by anyone; I was severing the tie myself.
Night had fully fallen, but the crimson clouds still hung heavy over the town.
The moment I stepped off the family estate, the mark on my palm suddenly burned like hellfire.
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