by Lisa Daniels
They struck a deal that lured all Questers to trickle into their kingdom, and a deal that had witches brewing in the royal laboratories. Most other kingdoms hated witches on sight, and had an unfortunate habit of trying to burn them at the stake. Porak Kingdom employed witches to create Quest rewards. They paid the dragons to take their princesses.
So Lystra’s childhood had mostly been preparation for being taken by a dragon.
“Now, honey,” her mother had once soothed, yanking a brush through Lystra’s sandy blonde curls. Lystra remembered it hurting, and feeling as though each strand on her scalp was slowly being ripped out. “Do you remember what Mr. Timid taught you today?”
Nine-year-old Lystra glared at herself in the mirror. “I know how to do a perfect high-pitched scream when I see a dragon flying, so he can find me faster. I know they’re attracted to the color red, and I know three ways to clean a kitchen surface, so when I’m taken, I won’t need to learn as much as other princesses when the dragon gives me chores.”
“Good girl!” Her mother, Queen Nera, smiled proudly at her eighth-youngest daughter. Due to the number of children Nera had pumped out, her body was round like a potato, and she had a rather charming matronly look going for her. “I heard you were top of your class for the scream hour. Well done!”
“The rest of the class heard it too,” Lystra muttered, already at that age of finding the lessons mostly pointless. Why bother learning all these things if she was going to be taken by a dragon anyway? They did that thing when a princess reached eighteen years old where they sent them to High Hill, and a dragon just went to High Hill to scoop up whatever unfortunate princess was waiting there. She didn’t even need to know how to scream, because the princesses offered themselves up on a platter. Every year, the royal treasury accumulated gold whenever a dragon took a princess and paid Porak for its service.
Then a new stream of Questers came along to try and rescue the princesses, or to go on self-imposed requests by Porak Kingdom, all for a taste of their witch brews.
Lystra’s favorite person when growing up was Agatha the Witch, an old, ugly woman with a pointed chin and nose like a crescent moon, who let Lystra escape from her millions of brothers, sisters and cousins to watch as she brewed potions.
Now at eighteen years of age, Lystra was due to go to High Hill tomorrow for the ceremonial capture by a dragon. Nervous about it, she went down to Agatha’s lab, deep in the dungeons of their castle, past damp stone walls and broken stone steps, into a chamber lit by an ominous green light, and shrunken heads hanging from strings upon the ceiling. Agatha gave Lystra a toothless smile, making a sucking sound with her gums as she stirred a hissing cauldron. Flashes of green electricity flared up from the cauldron on every third clockwise stir.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite princess! Nervous about being captured tomorrow, are yer, sweetie?”
Lystra nodded, twiddling her thumbs. She sought the words she needed to convey, and reflected on them before saying, “I’ve been preparing most of my life to be a perfect princess. Learning to cook and clean. Over-preparing for my new life, actually, before I get rescued by one Quester and then probably married off to them as a reward. But…” Now she approached the meat of the matter, the thing pervading her thoughts, “what if I hate it there? What if the dragons are all cruel and nothing like what everyone’s saying they are?”
Agatha stared at the freshly adult princess standing in front of her cauldron, and made that annoying sucking noise with her gums. “Well, I’ve spoken to a few dragons in my time. They have a strict moral code when it comes to princesses. Course you always get some rogues, but the ones yer mammy and daddy are in contact with want to represent an official, respected kingdom. They will honor their agreement. Don’t you worry.” She paused for a moment, before widening her smile. “Though some of them like to bend rules. I can offer you some protection, give you a bit of a head start.”
Lystra watched eagerly as Agatha tottered over to a shelf full of potions. One was labelled “temporary,” and the other “permanent.” She rifled through the “permanent” shelf until she found what she was looking for. A small, purple and green potion rolled into her wizened palms, and she handed it over to Lystra.
“That there’s a whopper. You drink that, and the predators of the Wilderness will struggle to see you as a food source. It’s a simple potion, but if you drink it, I think you’ll have one less fear to worry about. I have it meself. Lets me walk through the Wilderness when I’m gathering my herbs without fear of attack.”
A repel potion. Trusting Agatha, Lystra uncorked the bottle and drank it, feeling the magic settle heavily onto her bones after it travelled down her gullet and into her stomach.
“Side effects can include accidental generation of a black hole that will suck your soul up for all eternity,” Agatha added, which made Lystra glare at her. “But don’t worry. It’s like a 0.001% chance. Why, you’d have to be incredibly unlucky to get it!” She guffawed, but Lystra still wasn’t amused. However, she thanked Agatha, who reassured her once more that she’d be alright. The dragons would treat her well enough. She didn’t need to worry her pretty little princess head over the matter.
Though the idea of not being eaten by the various creatures that inhabited the Wilderness appealed to Lystra, she still felt rather anxious about the whole capturing thing.
The feast she shared with her expansive family was glorious and conversation-packed as usual, though she acted subdued throughout the whole affair and retreated to bed with a weight in her gut, wondering how her new life would pan out. Although she knew princesses could be rescued in a matter of days, she also knew of tales where some had spent years of their lives captured. Some never even returned. Those cases were rare enough, however, for most princesses to expect rescue at some point.
The next day, Lystra garbed herself in the ritual red dress, complete with a sparkling ruby pendant, and red, coruscant shoes. She went up to the ceremonial High Hill, where an appropriately constructed tower and platform awaited. Her job for the entire day was to stand on the flat tower platform and wait for whatever dragon happened to be sent from the flourishing dragon colony to scoop her up.
The wait generated undue anxiety in Lystra, who whittled away the time by sipping at glasses of water or munching on crackers. She even read a book, and an umbrella was brought up to her when the sunlight grew fierce.
Waiting for dragons sure was a tiring affair. Part of Lystra hoped that none would come at all, and she could retreat back into her castle and act like nothing had happened. Her family might be awfully upset she wasn’t accepted, but then they’d simply marry her off to a prince. Job done.
The day stretched on. She saw her mother and father muttering to themselves, and her younger sister shaking her head in a disapproving way.
“I bet if it was me up there, the dragons would be swarming to take me!” Malissa’s sharp little voice carried up on the breeze. Little brat, Lystra thought fondly. Still, she had spunk. Nice to see princesses being sassy.
She pretended she didn’t hear Malissa’s whining, and stared up at the sky, wondering if they really were coming for her.
Her heart sank when she saw a dot appear on the horizon, gradually growing larger and larger. The distinctive shape of a dragon undulated through the air, revealing scintillating red scales, the same color as her dress. She heard the crowd who had gathered to watch cheer and cry out, and her mother fanned herself, clearly satisfied to see the huge dragon head for her daughter.
Well, I had hoped…
The red dragon swooped closer, and now she saw the teeth and the dark shadowed eyes, heard the wing beats as they pushed the air, and she forced herself to stand up straight and smile. She decided to forgo the whole screaming thing. The dragon also clutched something in his talons. Finally, the dragon landed on the platform and bowed his neck to the princess. She clambered up, finding the scales warm and smooth, and settled at the end of his neck, just in front of his shoul
der bones and where the wings burst out. The dragon lifted his head and roared triumphantly, spouting orange flames into the sky as the crowd below cheered. The dragon released the sack from his talons, leaving a spill of gold and artifacts, then he took a few sharp strides, running off the platform and elevating through the air.
Lystra clung to his back, partially terrified and giddy as the world view changed, and the wind screamed past. Her fur clothes helped protect against the cold, and she saw her insane family jumping up and down, waving and cheering as the dragon carted her off to his lair.
She didn’t know what awaited her. She didn’t know how boring life would be with a dragon, though she at least knew how to clean.
I hope someone rescues me soon.
She rested her cheek against the dragon’s neck, immeasurable sadness seeping through her.
Chapter Two
Arriving at the dragon almost-kingdom, she saw a hub of activity. Several forts had already been carved into the mountain face, and dragons in both human and dragon forms wandered the landscape, some of them with princesses in tow. What surprised her was the arena built into part of the mountain, where she saw a dragon facing off against a Quester band now, under the screams and cheers of a watching crowd. The dragon in the arena, a huge black monstrosity, faced off against five Questers, who looked pathetic in comparison. She heard an announcer, his voice magnified as he commented on the match, but didn’t catch everything that was said.
“Trying the pinwheel dodge. Ooh, that didn’t end well…” One of the Questers could be seen flying through the air, as the black dragon’s tail lashed him out of the arena. “And it’s over for that one… Sigun’s whacked him out!”
When the dragon landed at his home, a rather well-crafted cavern of a sort, with appealing paintings of serpentine figures dotting the cave entrance, he happily ambled inside to a well-lit room, dome-shaped, with a ceiling painted in star patterns.
Lystra looked around, impressed, even though she didn’t want to show any evidence at all that she liked what she saw. Why, she certainly didn’t intend to enjoy herself here. But the way the cavern had been set out looked quite attractive. Chairs were arranged artfully around the room. One was by a bookcase, another around a circular table with a golden tablecloth, and yet another near the kitchen with a book placed on the cushion, which suggested that whoever cooked here also liked reading as they did so. A cauldron simmered with green smoke, and some cutlery danced on the kitchen surface. Apparently, the knife was trying to teach the fork how to tango.
Beyond the main room lay a corridor with other little rooms, each sealed by a reinforced wooden door revealed in the yellow lighting. Lystra slid off the dragon, who then promptly morphed into his human form. Her eyebrows jerked upward in surprise. She didn’t know what she expected, really. Some twisted old dragon looking his age, or maybe displaying a nervous tic in his eye. Instead, she stared into a youthful, clever face, with light brown eyes that gazed into hers with mild interest. He had a large jawline, making his face wide yet friendly, and chestnut-colored bristle framed his cheeks and chin. A wild mane of shaggy hair erupted from his head, nothing like the preened, immaculate appearance of a prince. Yet somehow, under that wildness, he appeared… well, good looking. Annoyingly so. He contained broad muscles, a substantial chest concealed by a leather jerkin which left his arms exposed – the kind of arms that could probably flex with a watermelon wedged inside and explode it. He had the makings of a warrior or knight, though he could do with a good trim to the head.
Really, Lystra hadn’t expected that at all. Her cheeks pinkened slightly, even as the dragon examined her from head to toe.
“Hello,” she said. It came out awkwardly.
The dragon ignored her hello, which she thought was rather rude, and prowled around her, still inspecting.
“It’s considered polite to answer back,” Lystra added stiffly, hoping the dragon wouldn’t turn out to be some uneducated, feral ragamuffin, incapable of basic decency. That might make the days passing by harder to endure.
Eventually, the dragon let out some kind of grunt, which she presumed meant some greeting or another, and her irritation flared higher, dissolving her initial thoughts of how attractive he looked. Nothing less attractive than a shaggy-haired grunter. Perhaps he sensed her irritation, for he said, “Sorry. It’s customary for us to not talk to you yet. I may not be the dragon that’s in charge of you.”
Confusion wrought Lystra’s pretty features. “What? Why?”
The dragon pointed outside to where the noise of the arena blared out. “The dragons will fight for the chance to have you as their princess. I’m merely the carrier. I bring you here.”
“Wait.” Lystra held up a hand. “So I don’t belong to you?”
“Not unless I win the fight,” the dragon confirmed. He appeared rather dispassionate about this. “Though there’s a lot of fierce competitors this year. I’ll likely await my chances for when the scene’s less flooded.”
For some reason, this statement infuriated Lystra. “You don’t find me attractive?”
“What? That’s not what I said.”
“You’re not going to even bother fighting for me? Am I that dismissible?” She perfected the bottom lip wobble for good measure.
“No! I didn’t say that. You’re very attractive.” The shifter raised up his hands helplessly. “It’s just there’s about seventeen other dragons who will be competing for you. You’ve been plucked at a prime time. I prefer to wait until something easier comes along.”
“Princesses,” Lystra hissed, her emotions burning, her presence practically emitting flames from her skin, “are not supposed to be easy. Defending them is hard work. If you win a competition against other, strong competitors, it proves you’re worthy of defending that princess. You’re a worthy opponent for the Questers!”
Wait, what was she even saying? She didn’t want this dragon as her keeper. Or did she? She didn’t know, but his “easy way out” attitude pissed her off.
“Whoa, calm down,” the dragon said, unleashing a wry smile. The smile transformed his gruff face into a kindly one. “I didn’t realize you liked the look of me so much.”
“That’s… that’s not what I said…” Lystra protested feebly, as the dragon raised one eyebrow, pursed his lips, and inspected her with more interest.
“Well, suppose I better register, then. Just give me a second. I’m gonna eat. Then I’ll take you down to the arena. And for future reference, the name’s Tarek.”
Dumbfounded, Lystra watched as the dragon headed into the kitchen. He sniffed appreciatively at the cauldron, and a little black and white cat which Lystra hadn’t noticed before raised up its tail from the pile of tablecloths it sat on, and meowed.
“Yes, it’s okay, Scruffles.” Tarek started stroking “Scruffles” the cat, who had a huge white splotch on its face, resembling a sword. “Who’s a good boy? Eh?” Scruffles raised up his rear end when the dragon scratched, enjoying it so much that he lost balance and fell over.
“You have a cat?”
“Is it that obvious?” He didn’t bother elaborating, and Lystra rolled her eyes, now resisting the desire to punch him. Rage seethed inside her stomach, and she felt it as if it was a reservoir lingering inside her. Best not to let herself keep giving into her rage impulses, and just breathe calmly to reduce stress. Just like her mother taught her.
Lystra ventured over to where Tarek cooked and saw him examine the cauldron, before sitting in his kitchen chair and picking up the book, labelled Dragons and Damsels, book four – The Princess of Lust. Lystra’s eyes almost popped out of her head. This dragon was reading romance. And, judging by the racy cover picture of a princess sprawled seductively as a dragon towered above her, she was willing to bet that the pages were heavily saturated in erotica.
Her cheeks flamed intensely, and Tarek glanced up, a slight leer upon his face. “Oh dear. Not comfortable with this?” He held the book up.
“Why are y
ou even reading that?” She attempted some sort of bravado, but the dragon’s smirk grew wider.
Licking his lips, he read to her, much to her horror, “And the princess felt heavy, uncontrollable longing for the dragon known as Magrid. She became as wet as a river, her eyes shining like the very stars above. When he peeled apart her luscious little clothes, one by one, revealing the creamy milk of her skin, he saw how eagerly her breasts leapt to his attention, and he bent before her, letting himself suckle on those bulbous love mounds…” Tarek cleared his throat. “Honestly, the writing’s terrible and cringeworthy at times, but once you get to the meat of the scene, it does a fine job.”
“What job?” Lystra said in a strangled voice.
Tarek didn’t bother to answer that. Just smiled wider. Lystra’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she turned away, keeping her focus on the cat, Scruffles. The cat stared at her with lazy green eyes before yawning, exposing all of his sharp teeth.
No way. Dragons read erotica about princesses? They thought about doing things like that with princesses? Oh Gods. The embarrassment sent a fever through her skin, made her stomach twist up into knots, and she wanted to dash out of the cave and run away screaming into the Wilderness, until some monster scooped her up. At least she didn’t have to worry about being eaten, right? Just as she contemplated this, the smell of delicious, mouth-watering food hit her nostrils, and her stomach gave an un-princess-like gurgle.
“Food’s up. Help yourself,” Tarek said, and she heard the creak of the chair as he got up, abandoning his book. Her blush still hadn’t evaporated, but Lystra headed over to the cauldron anyway, determined to hold herself in place.
I now regret goading this dragon into entering the princess knock-out competition or whatever it is they do. She heard the announcer shrieking something, and the crowd roar in rapturous delight. I sincerely hope he doesn’t win.