Netcees - Week 1 - Witty vs. Certain

Morgantuan was never going to stick around.
He had to stretch his wings. He had to hit the town.
I couldn't expect a king to risk his crown
in the name of love, could I?

My nest would swing with the wind from the cliff's peak,
when the cold tends to split through unkissed cheeks.
It hardened, the broken skin of a single mother trying to make it
and never quite feeling less than naked.
Parantius. Beloved kin. I nuzzled him to sleep every night,
knowing he too would leave and take flight,
knowing he too would cause my greiving at night.
But not yet.

The ninth of January, an exhale keeping us warm,
my folded wing covers Parry, a sheath from the storm.
My breathing is chored. The air's thin in our mountainous home,
but we prefer to stay away from lands crowded below.
I'd hunted the night before to keep us fed for the blizzard,
and though it's less than equisite, in winter, there's less for the pillage.
When alone, I tell Parry stories of his legendary father,
but avoid the part where the ruler of the skies couldn't be bothered.

Footsteps. Parry's a sensitive sleeper, and he nudges me awake.
I turn, puffing heaps of flames expecting a hungry hyena's gaze.
My eyes dart the landscape when I see a darkened man's blade
shimmering in the sun, and he's pulling a large englassed case.
I can't see in, though, so I tell Parry to wait while I examine closer
and slip off for a better vantage point, unwilling to do battle over
some random man who might just be lost, despite my instincts.
So I climb closer, peeking over a tree, I finally glimpse it
and see what appears to be a head of handsome bronze
and glowing teeth I know I've seen.
No. NO! It's ... Morgantuan!

"STOP! Who goes there? Explain yourself or lose your life
because this fire-breathing dragon isn't afraid to use its might."
The man turns, grabbing his spear but not moving to attack.
"I am known," he begins, "as Sir Trenton Runiford the Black,
and I come bearing the head of the beast that killed my family
with intent to repay his deeds in kind and prevent the swill's lone progeny
from ever doing what this villain did."
His words were labored but his purpose was clear: to kill my kid.
But I could understand. Morgantuan was a heartless murderer,
who spurned his son and me like discarded furniture.
It burned me up, still so love-sad. So I offered a treaty of peace.
I'd see that he leaves and let drop that he killed my son's dad,
but first I wanted one more look at Morgantuan's beautiful face.
Trent removed the head as I loomed with a gaze,
then, consumed with my rage,
burned the entire fucking head to ashes in one luminous blaze.