The king looked out at his kingdom from on top of his throne, the air of fresh spring colliding with that of harsh rain. The clouds were rolling in, and the people were unprepared. He felt a tender hand wrap around his and a sweet pair of lips whisper sweeter words of reassurance into his ear.
She promised him that the storm would falter, for nothing would be brave enough to face a king like him. His kingdom was mighty, and the people in it were ten times stronger. A storm was nothing but a drop of water, for the people were the real flood and the king was the real lightning.
He gave her a thanks and watched her return to her room. Dread was still knitted into his brows and his heart was heavy with doubt. He felt tears well into his eyes because he knew when this storm passed it would be his last, along with all the people he had tried so hard to keep alive.
He knew this because he caused this, and he deserved this.
Then through the clouds of the storm, the wings of the stained glass dragon could be seen and the gaze of the dark-eyed prince could be spotted on it's back.
The storm had arrived.