by Lisa Daniels
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.
Her mother, of course, was at her wit’s end, tearing out chunks of her hair in private and complaining to her poor, beleaguered father, who held the quiet sentiment that wives should be seen and not heard.
Eventually, queen Mereen simply summoned Esmer to the throne room one day, and told her in no uncertain terms that the next prince they procured for her, she’d have to marry. Warts and all. She simply couldn’t be an embarrassment to her kingdom any longer, and she needed to get herself married, to lessen her chances of being captured by Dark Clan humans or dragons.
“Mother, I don’t want to get married yet!” Esmer protested, staring up at Mereen, who sat regally on her stone throne, eyes hooded over in contempt.
“I know you don’t, dear, but at this rate, you’re on course to never get married. You’ll be like that wretched creature from Glenderal. Thirty years old, and still unloved. A tragedy.”
She means Marea? “Isn’t that the princess who got captured by a dragon?”
Mereen nodded, fanning her head. “Yes. A horrible fate. No one’s had any luck in Questing for her. Her parents are not offering a good reward for her, either. They know her age is a deterrant.”
Esmer chewed upon her lip. She liked Marea, and secretly admired her for being single for so long. Everyone else saw her as a freak, but Esmer aspired to be someone independent herself. So she did things princesses were not technically supposed to do, thanks to the assistance of the palace servants, who wouldn’t dare disobey an order. Especially from a notoriously bratty princess – though Esmer hadn’t yet resorted to chopping off heads like her eldest sister, Rure.
“The prince we’re engaging you to is a nice enough boy. You’ve met him once – it’s Samm from the Blue Bow kingdom. That small lake kingdom with the big fishery.”
“I hate the smell of fish,” Esmer said immediately, and Mereen laughed.
“Oh no, darling. You’re not wriggling out of this one. We’ll make a proper princess of you yet.”
Prince Samm represented the wheedling, sycophant type that drove Esmer up the wall. She shuddered at the thought of having to interact with the pimply faced prince on a daily basis even, ugh, kissing him.
“I have to do this, dear. It’s the only way things will work out.”
“For you, you mean,” Esmer spat, hands balling into fists. “You’ve never once cared about me. You only cared that I was a conventional princess. A girly girl.”
“That’s enough of that,” Mereen replied, her voice crisp and commanding. “Stop these ridiculous accusations and go and get yourself ready. We’re arranging to meet the prince and his family tonight.”
Typical. “You’re a selfish bitch, you know that?”
At this, Mereen stood up, blue eyes blazing in fury. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother this way. Leave. Now.”
“Oh, I will!” Esmer exclaimed, storming out of the throne room, seething in indignation. She hated her mother at this point, and the resentment infected her bloodsteam, making it difficult to think rationally.
Leave? I’ll bloody well leave.
Her guard trailed behind her, keeping at a safe distance. Esmer forced herself to take long, deep breaths, before considering her situation. Unless she actually left, she’d be subject to an arranged marriage to a prince that stank of fish, and held a bigger gap in his teeth than the Wilderness.
I should just run away. I should have done it years ago. Esmer began breathing faster as she considered the idea, wondering if she’d get away with it at all. She didn’t have the skill set to survive in the Wilderness, otherwise that might be an option. Everyone in the kingdom recognized her face upon sight, and the neighboring kingdoms also knew her identity.
She glanced at her rather impassive guard, still thinking furiously. I’d need to shake him as well.
To avoid suspicions, she went up to her room first, as if she was planning to have a good sulk and cry. The guards expected it. Virtually any princess who didn't get her way exhibited this kind of behaviour. Her lone guard waited dutifully outside her room as she locked the door, examined her absurdly pink room, and sighed.
She wanted to run away, but in all honesty, she didn't know where to run away to. She was too recognizable. People would spot her on the streets and haul her back to the palace. Her mother forbade lessons with the palace magician, so she didn't know how to make herself invisible, or anything particularly useful to that extent. The last witch that made it into the kingdom, hunters had tried to burn her at the stake, but she simply turned into a frog and hopped away from danger.
Nothing Esmer had learned would help her with survival outside of the palace, and it irritated her. Well, maybe the fact she knew how to cook might be useful, since she snuck down to the kitchens often to learn recipes and assist the cooks. At first, they'd been nervous of Esmer, since a wrong foot might have the little princess yelling for their heads to be chopped off, but they soon took Esmer under their wing, letting her assist with baking, stewing and chopping.
There was only about eight dishes she could do well by heart, out of the hundreds the palace cooks churned out every day. But Esmer was proud of those eight dishes.
Maybe I could cook for Samm and accidentally poison him, Esmer mused, as she went up to her window and stared out at the huge kingdom below her. Naterus was almost twice the size of Glenderel, and wealthier, too.
I really can't escape, can I? If my parents want to marry me off to someone, they'll do it. Because they know I'll just keep refusing them until I grow old and crooked.
It didn't help that the fairy Godmother present at Esmer's birth had proclaimed Esmer was destined to marry a rich and powerful prince, and discover the long lost kingdom relic known as the Sword of the Mountain. The weapon was supposed to be able to cause mountains to rise from the earth, and create rock shards to fling in combat. Some centuries before, thieves from the Dark Clans had stolen the sword.
Obviously, with such a powerful prophecy looming above her head, it meant her family were rather desperate to marry her off.
“Just make sure you bring back the Sword of the Mountain to us, yes?” Her father insisted, cradling his royal crown in his hands, as he sat upon a glittering throne.
Esmer couldn't exactly guarantee giving them the sword, but she agreed nonetheless.
She wondered what the single mage in the entire kingdom was doing now. Teaching lessons at the university? Brewing up new spells? Maybe she should dragoon them into giving her lessons. And fast forward invisibility lessons.
Her mind stopped wandering when she spotted the shape in the distance, high above the kingdom, soaring down with ferocity. Esmer's breath caught in her throat, and her chest quivered as the shape loomed nearer and nearer, until it resembled the distinctive shape of a dragon, with sapphire scales glinting in the sunlight. A dragon attack in broad daylight?
Dragons want to capture princesses, right?
Immediately, Esmer began searching around her room for something big and noticeable, found her tiara and whammed it on her head, and took out a huge golden statue. Dragons were supposed to smell gold from miles away, right? She dashed to the window and wrenched it open, stepping onto the battlements below. The guards upon the battlements weren't focused on her, and she held up the golden statue of a cat with glittering emerald eyes, trying to seize the attention of the dragon, which had now started breathing fire upon some of
the city buildings.
Come on, you stupid dumb lizard. Smell the gold! Grab me! I'm a princess! I'm right here! For good measure, she started waving the golden trinket around, inhaling sharply when she saw the dragon hesitate, and face flick in her direction. Was the dragon sniffing? Did he smell the gold?
The dragon flapped towards her, roaring, and the civilians in the streets screamed and ran around, clacking into each other like marbles in their haste to escape. When the dragon flapped close enough, and he now spotted the princess upon the battlements, waving the gold statue in her hand, he actually slowed up, so he now beat his huge wings in front of her, displaying the whole of his underbelly, and fearsome limbs. A tail swished in the air, and the wind buffeted Esmer back slightly.
“Foolish princess!” The dragon roared, in a deep, gruff voice. “Know that you are to be captured by Gerran of the High Roost!”
“Excellent!” Esmer yelled back. “Take me away from this place!”
The dragon's scowl changed into a blink of confusion. “You... want to be taken?”
“Yes!”
“Really?” He seemed utterly confused by the notion, and more than a little shocked. Princesses probably didn't ask very often to be captured, Esmer figured.
“Why do you think I'm standing here looking as princessy as possible, waving this thing around?”
Gerran snapped his teeth shut. “Oh. Okay, then. Well, this should make it easier. Let me land there so you can climb onto my back.”
The blue dragon clambered awkwardly onto the battlements, and Esmer climbed up the spikes on his back, settling behind the bone frill of his head. She hung onto the statue, considering to use it as some kind of gift offering to the dragon. “Okay, I'm on.”
“It might get a little chilly, princess!” Gerran yelled, before leaping off, his great wings beating the air. He blasted flames out of his mouth, causing people to scream and panic beneath him, and he soared up into the sky. The cold whipped past her, though she avoided the worse of it, concealed behind Gerran's bone frill, which acted as a windbreak. All the while, her heart thudded in excitement and happiness.
The little girl who desperately wanted to have a dragon as a pet, finally got her chance to meet one. And get taken. Anything to avoid marrying that prince.
She laughed hysterically as Gerran flapped higher, heading towards the Wilderness, as far away from Samm as possible.
Take that, fairy Godmother. Bet you didn't see this coming!
Chapter Two
When Gerran arrived at his home about an hour later, Esmer couldn't help but notice that he didn't live in an isolated cave in the middle of nowhere. The dragon had landed in what looked like a huge rocky compound, with stone buildings all along the mountain edges, and artfully carved walkways. She saw a mix of dragons sunbathing, and humans walking around, conversing with one another. She also spotted something that resembled a rather glamorous castle, carved right into the mountain face itself, looming out over the other weathered buildings.
“This is your home?” Esmer rubbed her cold hands, the statue wedged between her legs.
“Yes,” Gerran replied. “This is High Roost. It's one of the biggest dragon clans in the Wilderness, if not the biggest.” As he finished speaking, the humans waved at Gerran.
“Hey! Prince Gerran! You're back! And you have a princess! Wow! Well done!” Suddenly, a crowd seemed to converge around Gerran, admiring his new catch, pointing at Esmer as if she was the greatest thing ever.
Prince Gerran?
Her stomach dropped a little at the revelation. Dear Gods. I'm riding a dragon prince? Dragons have princes?
Gerran began ambling through the crowd, even as a dragon screeched from the rock he lay upon, “How did you catch this one? Did you burn down the tower she was in? Did you disguise yourself and find a way to escape with her?”
“Actually,” Gerran replied, “She grabbed my attention and asked to be taken. I probably wouldn't have come back with a princess, otherwise.”
At this statement, confused murmurs spread amongst the humans and dragons. Esmer noted the humans wearing warm clothing, adapted better for a life in the Wilderness. Except, now that she examined them closer, their eyes appeared off. Something about their features spoke of a feral nature, different from the humans of the kingdoms. She found herself wondering if they were actually humans at all.
“Are you sure?” One of the humans said. “Perhaps you misheard her?”
“Oh, no,” Gerran said, his voice sounding as if it was smiling. “I even settled down for her and she climbed onto my back without protest. She definitely wanted to be taken.”
“But that's insane,” someone else said. “Princesses don't want to be taken.”
“This one does,” Esmer said then, projecting her voice across the crowd. “And I'm glad to be here!”
Some of the humans actually shied away from her, as if she was diseased. “She's mad!” One muttered.
Gerran merely chuckled and plodded along, walking Esmer towards the castle.
Esmer found the reactions around her amusing. She might have expected such reactions in the humans of Naterus. Not so from the dragons of High Roost, who appeared almost offended at how un-princess-like she was.
She snorted, before Gerran halted at a small stone door to the right wing of the castle. “You should slide off now, princess. I'll need to change.”
Change?
Puzzled, Esmer did as bid, and gaped in sheer astonishment when she saw Gerran morph from his blue dragon form, to a human with sapphire eyes. Speechless, she watched as Gerran opened the stone door with a key from his pocket.
The people who she thought were humans – were actually dragons. Not humans. Her eyes trailed over Gerran's dark, curly hair, his heavy, hooded eyelids that gave him a half-asleep expression, and the noble curve of his cheeks and chin. Those liquid blue eyes seemed to pierce into her soul, and she shivered in pleasant, surprised delight.
His human form was utterly gorgeous. Esmer struggled to take it all in, even as Gerran indicated for her to go inside. She did as bid, and he closed the door behind.
“Normally, princess, I'd take you to one of the tower rooms in this castle and lock you up there. But I suspect that would be a poor reward for someone who wanted to be taken.” He moved sinuously through the room, in complete control of his body, and she watched him, mesmerized from the motion. Dear Gods, this shifter was hot. Already, her cheeks started to flame. She smelled power from him, and her body already started reacting to his presence.
Probably because I wasn't expecting this. She took a deep breath, gathering what remained of her wits together.
Prince Gerran. A dragon from a royal clan in the Wilderness. Until about ten minutes ago, Esmer had absolutely no clue that dragons even possessed a social structure such as this. Guess I'm going to be learning a lot of new things. Hey. I wonder if I'll bump into Marea? Is that possible?
“So, I ask you this, princess. Will you try to escape from me?”
“Depends,” Esmer replied, feeling bold. “If you treat me like dirt, I probably will. But honestly, I've wanted to meet a dragon for a long time. I'm interested to see more of your society.”
“Good,” Gerran said, a lazy smile covering his face. He folded his arms, apparently satisfied with the answer. “It will make things easier. We have a whole bunch of protocol for princesses, usually because they're reluctant. You can imagine the difficulties we have with looking after them.”
“Possibly,” Esmer said, though she expected that princesses who liked being those typical traditional princesses might have a harder time with dragon captivity. You were supposed to learn things like how to scream and how to react when a dragon took you. Esmer had pretty much broken all the rules in the kingdom notebook in the space of an hour. “I take it you guys don't get very many princess volunteers.”
“You could say that,” Gerran murmured, his storm blue eyes fixated upon her. Esmer found that look very distracting. He was
so, well, manly. Standing there tall and proud, like a prince, a commanding expression upon his noble features. A hint of stubble displayed upon his cheeks, and his blue eyes, with those sloping hoods made him so damn dreamy.
If it wasn't for the fact that he happened to be a dragon, Esmer felt fairly certain all the princesses she knew would be clawing over her, vying for his attention.
“Will you be wanting me to do chores? I heard dragons do that with their princesses.”
“We do,” Gerran said, nodding. “Honestly, if you're not going to run, you can do whatever. The chores are more of a distraction.”
“Eh. I can cook. Wait.” An idea popped into Esmer's head. “Could I learn magic?”
Gerran acted surprised at the request. “You want to learn magic?”
“Yes! I didn't get the chance back in my kingdom. I actually wanted to learn magic and have a pet dragon when I was little.”
Gerran smiled. The enthusiasm she gave him was not the sullen demeanor of someone plotting to run away. It resembled the excitement of someone intending to stick around, and he clearly saw it. “I suppose I can look into it. I know a few witches in the Wilderness who might be interested in taking on a princess as an apprentice.”
“Fine with me,” Esmer declared. The excitement continued brewing in her, as possibilities exploded within her. Dragons had a society. They consorted with magic and monsters on a daily basis. Already, things sounded way better here than her home in Naterus. “I can bake you something nice tonight if we have the ingredients, as well. A homecoming, to celebrate your capture of a princess. You do celebrate things like that, yes?”