by Lisa Daniels
“I've been captive for eight months,” Ness said, her voice holding that familiar whine that Marea herself utilized in the first few weeks of her imprisonment. “Eight months, forced to work every day, and only three knights have come to try and save me. Three! I'm so ashamed. It obviously means I'm not worth anything to Questers.”
Marea pursed her lips, thinking about the lack of knights that had come for her. A thirty-year old princess, unmarried and devalued, with a family that were more exasperated with her then pleased. They had probably offered an insultingly low price for her, not enough to encourage Questers to risk their lives for fame and glory.
Ness herself looked quite pretty, but clearly hadn't adapted to her fate after eight months, nor bothered to try. She as much admitted she cried herself to sleep every night, and did everything she could to sabotage the home, even though she'd have to end up cleaning it anyway.
“My life is a tragedy,” Ness declared, pasting a hand over her head in a dramatic gesture. “I will die old and unloved and the slave of a dragon. I swear if I have to see another cockroach, I will just die.”
Marea found herself getting irritated by Ness for some reason, even though she saw herself in the princess's manner. “So, your dragon just makes you work and locks you up?”
“Yes, as is typical of those beasts. And he has all his horrible friends coming over, though sometimes that can be a good opportunity for the other captive princesses to talk. It can be the only times we get to go outside.” Her beautiful dark eyes welled up with artful tears, temporarily making Marea at a loss for words.
So, what Kazak did with her, that wasn't typical dragon behaviour? She knew not to push the matter, not without aggravating this delicate buttercup of a princess. She hesitated at her mental phrasing.
Delicate buttercup?
She also suspected Kazak gave her a little more attention than the other dragons. Well, aside from the obvious thing, he did greet her, say goodnight, and sometimes ask about how her cleaning went, and occasionally probe into her past, though he gave nothing of his. She didn't know what kind of past a dragon had, though surely they started with some kind of mother and father, maybe siblings, before they became their monstrous adult forms.
What did she actually know about Kazak? A green scaled dragon who invited his friends over and held feasts in human forms. What did that mean? A network of a sort, of neighboring dragons, going to their places or having them come here. They showed off their princesses, so a princess was a status symbol. Did dragons have kings? Queens?
Were there even any female dragons? Marea hadn't seen any turn up at the cavern.
Marea smiled and nodded, listening to Ness's woes, before breathing a sigh of relief when she packed off and left. Eventually, it was just her and Kazak alone.
“You looked like you weren't enjoying that at all, princess,” Kazak said, with a faint smile. He always had that infuriatingly calm expression on his face.
“Ugh. She was so annoying. I guess that's why you lock princesses up all the time.”
He let out a roar of laughter. “Good logic.” Then he hesitated, eyes narrowing. “I'm afraid you'll have to go back to your tower, princess. We have another visitor.”
Baffled, Marea did as bid, running anxious fingers through her blonde hair, going up the stairwell in her flat soled shoes and simple peasant gear. At the top, she heard him lock the door behind her. Curious, she headed to the window, and peered out into the mountainous terrain below, the Wilderness of Kazak's home. She saw, with a leap of her heart, a knight, standing in full shining armor, sword and shield at the ready. In fact, he was clanging his shield for attention, and when he caught Marea staring from the appropriately designed tower, he shouted to her, and his voice came faint.
“Princess Marea! I'm here to rescue you!”
Oh, okay then. My first Quester. Marea watched in fascination as Kazak came bellowing out of the enormous entrance of his cave, fully clad in his dragon form, before rearing up.
“Who dares challenge me!” Kazak said. His words had the ring of tradition. For some reason, Marea found it amusing to see this huge dragon, which could probably bite the Quester in two, standing on his hind legs, tail swishing, leathery wings furled behind him as he balanced on the hard stone.
The knight raised his sword. “It is I, lord Godric of Larusa kingdom! I come for princess Marea, fiend, who you've cruelly kept imprisoned. Prepare to die!”
Larusa kingdom? That was one of the center kingdoms. Bigger than her one, interestingly enough. If he won, he'd return her to her parents and ask for a boon, which could be anything from gold to asking her hand in marriage.
Suddenly, she realized she didn't want Godric to win. She wanted Kazak to escape from this unscathed.
Sun and Stars, I want the DRAGON to win?
“I accept your challenge!” Kazak swished his tail violently, and the knight clanged his shield in reply.
Even monsters follow tradition, like the kingdoms. Perhaps they're not so monstrous, after all.
The knight looked as if he had good gear. He'd likely Quested to some forest witch to get better items, gone into some mysterious cave for the sword, or rifled all the gear from a mysterious trader travelling on a rickety cart with a hood obscuring their features. The harder the Quest, the better the item.
Didn’t people fight dragons as well for a chance to reach their treasure hoard?
The knight struck first. He whirled the sword, and some kind of shockwave came from it, which Kazak buffeted aside with his tail, before crushing down on the knight with his front paws. The knight rolled out of the way, and held up his shield in time to deflect a blast of fire, which dissipated into the shield.
Basic anti-dragonfire shield. He's Quested well.
“Taste darkness!” Kazak roared, his wings spreading out to an impressive length, before around them, a black dome materialized, concealing the entire fight from Marea's view.
Wait. Dragons cast spells?
Belatedly, she realized the stupidity of her thought. If dragons could breathe fire and shift into humans, of course they knew how to cast spells. It made her wish she'd paid attention in magic class, since even if you weren't a natural mage, you could still learn some basic chants – though it'd be nothing compared to a trueborn.
She heard an awful lot of shrieking, yelling and clashes of sword against scales, before she saw the Quester suddenly fly out of the dome, hurtling away at an impossible speed, far across the mountains, no longer holding his magically enchanted sword.
“Curse you...!” she heard the Quester bellow, before he disappeared into the distance.
Marea hoped he'd at least possessed a Falling Feather or a null gravity enchant, to make his fall a slightly more pleasant event.
The black dome vanished, and Kazak stood there in dragon form, the sword between his teeth, looking rather smug with himself.
“Well done!” Marea said, clapping her hands, and Kazak glanced up with her, and even exaggerated a bow.
Marea immediately halted her reaction. She'd just cheered for a dragon. A sodding dragon.
He disappeared inside the cavern entrance, and was unlocking her door a moment later. “Phew!” He said. “We had a noble Quester this time. Some like to try trickery or to sneak into the tower. It's a full-time job protecting a princess, but certainly entertaining.”
Marea grinned, imitating his almost boyish enthusiasm, obviously fired up with adrenalin from his encounter. “Is that your first Quester?”
“Not my first,” Kazak replied. “I've helped other dragons before, when the Questers bring companions. You can get full bands of five, so it can be quite a challenge for a newly princessed dragon.” He flopped onto her bed, folding his arms behind his head. “But I've Quested on my own. It's basic for any good adventurer to have at least some enchanted weapons and items to succeed in this world. And I have a few witches as friends.”
“Do you kill Questers?” Marea asked, though she knew it was a f
oolish question. Dragons got slain. So did Questers.
“Sometimes. It depends on them and whatever conditions they state. And of course, upon the dragon. A perfect match is where both sides are shielded, and the first to break the shield wins. But you get dishonorable Questers and dragons, so that kind of event is exceedingly rare. Mostly, someone tends to die. Our little Quester here didn't state any conditions, and you might be a little averse to some blood, so... I sent him flying. Let's hope he was as well prepared as he looked for the fall, eh?”
Kazak was really talkative now, his face alight, the smile never leaving his face. Marea sat beside him, now stroking his hair, secretly delighted at the idea that he'd stopped himself from killing a Quester. For her.
He turned to face her, green eyes glowing. “Did you see me, though?”
“Well, up until the point when you conjured up the impenetrable cloud of darkness, yes,” Marea said, now settling into the bed next to him. “I'm sure it must have been impressive.”
“Probably.” On sudden impulse, Kazak turned and kissed her fully on the lips. Not a dainty, nice one, but a full one grab of her cheeks and a suck that made it feel like he was trying to draw all the air from her lungs, before he released her, laughing exuberantly. “We should feast tonight! I'll send invitations to some of the others over the mountains, and we can celebrate the event of your first Quester!”
Dragons are weird, Marea thought, slightly disorientated from his effort at sucking the soul out of her body. She couldn't help but smile along with him, though.
Chapter Five
Am I even a princess, anymore? Marea twirled in front of the mirror Kazak had procured, checking out the first dress she'd been given since her confinement in the tower. The more she had cleaned, the more she realized that it served as nothing more than a distraction for her, to keep her busy so she didn't grow bored out of her mind, or plot too strongly about escaping. According to Kazak, he said the dragon manual of How to Keep Your Princess recommended extensive chores, as well as the basic locked tower, and to trim princess hair every now and then so she couldn't use it as a ropeladder. Also, to keep potions of extreme grow and shrink away from them.
The dress shimmered a deep yellow, holding a glossy shine with her glittering blonde hair. Frills and a tight bodice pushed out her chest, making it seem like she had substance there. After a long, hot bath, she'd brushed out her hair until it glimmered, and picked out a sapphire necklace from Kazak's treasury (she hadn't yet seen his treasures, understandable, since dragons tended to hoard a lot.)
One month after Marea’s first Quester, nine more had come along, all of them beaten in a similar manner to the first. Since Kazak had defeated ten Questers, he'd been rewarded formally by a dragon king.
A Dragon king. Apparently, dragons liked to celebrate achievements, and Kazak had messengers turning up outside his cavern to shower him in gifts. More gold, special enchantments, and a formal invite to the king's table in their annual convention.
That sort of thing.
Kazak bought Marea a dress, inviting her to try it on, and now she felt awkward, standing in front of the mirror, closer to the princess she used to be.
Except, she didn't feel like that person any longer. Gone was the woman who felt misshapen and off because she didn't have a husband near the age of thirty. Gone was the jealously and envy towards the servants, for their skill sets and their simpler lifestyles.
Ever since Kazak whisked her away, she'd grown callouses over her hands, and a new hardness about her features. Kazak now left her tower door open, no longer bothering to lock her in, because he saw the light in her face as she appreciated the freedom. She went to his bed in the night, or he to hers. She still didn't know much about dragon society, but he'd promised to take her along with him when he next went to visit the witch of the swamp, and when he needed to check in at the goblin general store to procure new curses.
Marea understood partially why some princesses never returned to their kingdoms after being stolen. Not because they got eaten, but perhaps they learned to fall in love with the peculiar creatures, with their own brand of morality and their irritatingly attractive human forms.
Deeming herself of acceptable appearance, though her eyes seemed too dark for her liking, she ventured down the stairwell, and met Kazak in the main cavern room with the feasting tables, dressed up in a neat black and white suit, smiling radiantly at her appearance. He looked so powerful there, owning the room with his presence, his squared, strong body and rugged features. Though he kept his red beard neatly trimmed, he'd been growing it out a bit, leaving a growth that gave him a rough look to his handsome features.
He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go, milady?”
She looped her arm in his and grinned. “Anything for you, sir.”
All they did, really, was go for a stroll down the mountain path, exploring some of the vibrant scenery there, from the blushing pink flowers to the scraggly ferns that clung to the edges.
“I must say, princess, with that outfit, your beauty could kill.” He bent to kiss her hand, eyes flaming with desire and admiration. She flushed with pleasure from the flattery, feeling confident and beautiful. When they approached a tough cliff edge, Kazak pointed in the distance, to where the human kingdoms stuck out of the land beyond the Wilderness.
“Your home is over there,” he said, pointing to a small city, where the distant castle was the size of her fingernail.
She expected to feel sadness and longing for Glenderal. Instead, she felt nothing. No sadness. No heavy desire to return home. She had no taste for that life again of constant judgement, competing with other princes and princesses far more accomplished than she ever was.
Being a dragon's princess meant more to her than anything else.
How strange.
Kazak watched her expression for a long moment. “You might have a hard time being rescued, princess. I plan to cherish you for as long as possible, and to fight every Quester in your name.”
“I hope you will,” Marea replied, grinning. “But if you want me sticking around, I’d like you to decorate the place better. It’s awfully drab with the gray and the lack of seating areas.”
“That can be arranged,” he said. He bowed to her hand and kissed the back of it, his lips soft and hot against her skin. A pleasant shiver travelled up her body.
“Shall we go home then, princess?”
Home. I like the sound of that.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
She kissed him upon the lips, and he lifted her off her feet, twirling her around, before slinging her over his shoulder, and sprinting for the cave.
She laughed the whole while, her dress billowing in the wind, clutching her new love close.
The End
Captured by Gerran
Dragons Take a Princess
(Book 2)
Chapter One
When princess Esmer was six years old, her mother once asked her what she wanted as a treat. The princess’s prompt reply was: “I want a dragon.”
Her beautiful, dolled up mother, with stunning, crimson hair fluttered her eyelashes in mild confusion. “But, darling, you can’t own a dragon. They’re monsters. They steal princesses and only brave knights can rescue by them. Surely you want to meet one of the young princes from the nearby kingdoms instead…?” Her mother’s tone was rather hopeful, wishing that her daughter would say something appropriate and conventional, mostly to prove to herself that she hadn’t fucked up the raising process.
“People have pet unicorns. Why can’t I have a pet dragon?”
“You just can’t. Monsters, sweetie. They’re monsters.”
Esmer ignored the monster statement, completely fixated on her object of desire. “Can I meet one, then?”
“No. They’re monsters. I already told you, dear. They capture princesses and lock them away in their towers.”
“Then I want to be captured by one!”
The little princes
s stamped her foot on the ground, putting on her best pout face. Her mother at this point started displaying real panic in her eyes.
“That’s not a normal princess thing to ask. Your sisters all want to meet a prince. You should want this, too. Or a pony.”
Little Esmer rolled her eyes at this statement, stamped her foot again in childish tantrum, before screaming, “I want a dragon!”
Her screams followed her mother down the hall as she hastily called for the nurses to scoop Esmer up and place her in the nursery with her two younger sisters, to help calm her down by any means necessary.
Now Esmer was nineteen years of age, though she’d grown out of the horrendous spoilt brat stage, demanding impossible things, she never quite let go of her fantasy to meet a dragon. She stood in front of the mirror of her bedroom, the light perfectly illuminating the curve of her body, the red gown, the simple black wedge shoes, and her bright red hair fanning over her shoulders. She wore a red brooch and pendant, though honestly, she would have preferred to go without. Her mother had scheduled Esmer to meet a prince from one of the central kingdoms, and she’d gotten to the point of arranging four to five meetings a week, desperate to get her errant daughter married whilst she still existed in the “young and beautiful” time frame.
Except, well, so far, Esmer had managed to turn every single prince showing her the slightest sign of interest off the idea of marriage. Either through excuses, by telling them she had an incurable disease, or that she slept with hundreds of men daily. Well, the last one might be a stretch, but it certainly put off all the princes from ever wanting to interact with her again. Something about having a tainted princess made most of them squeamish, though some of the hardier princes seemed rather turned on by the idea of someone with experience.
Not that Esmer had much experience with anything other than her hand, and a few racy books.