Dragon Princess

A year before the Dragon Princess arrived at Galellona.

“Your majesty,” Tumelo bellowed across the great hall, for a tiny human she had powerful lungs.

“Yes Tumelo, what is it girl?”

“Your majesty,” she heaved, “the oracle Lesedi, calls for you.”

The queen hurried herself from the great hall, down the grand staircase, and flicked her wrist to open the palace enormous double doors. She loved magik, and enjoyed using her skills on the most trivial things.

“You,” she yelled at the guard, “ your horse now.”

“Yes your majesty.” She mounted the horse with finesse, showing great skill and galloped away to the oracle’s home, a mile away from the main palace. She dismounted before the horse came to a full stop and ran to the house.

“Lesedi, you called,” she asked from the doorway.

“Queen Aliyen, please sit.” She ignored the gesture, the last time the oracle called, the dark elves had crossed into the north eastern borders with three legions of soldiers.

“What is it Lesedi? What do you see?”

The queen studied the human face of the oracle, a dark aging beauty. The face contorted, then the oracle went still, her eyes wide and a smoky white.

“The king will be assassinated, and your son will fall in love with a dragon princess of black hair and opalescent strands, and she will bring great changes to the kingdom. A people’s princess, she will unite many kingdoms, and strengthen our alliances, but beware of her friends.”

The oracle blinked, breaking her trance as a white cloud descended from her body.

“The king will be assassinated,” the queen screamed, “this cannot happen. I will not allow it.”

“Your majesty, we cannot prevent what is written by the fates?”

“No, how could they do this? Why?” she bellowed, angry at the Gods.

“Your majesty, you cannot do anything to prevent his death. If you do, you will only prolong the inevitable,” Lesedi reminded calmly. “Please focus your energy and sorrow in getting the dragon princess to Galellona.”

“You. Will. Not. Tell. Me. What. To. Do.” Each word punctuated by a step toward the oracle. Aliyen was beyond help, her anger and rage was eating at her insides, and the only person in sight to feel her wrath was a medium between the elven realm and the realm on the Gods. Her hand reached for the oracle’s throat, and she delighted in wrapping her long, graceful fingers around the bitch’s throat. The oracle scratched at her hands, and kicked at her feet.

         Aysanwen sat on the roof of a dilapidated castle under the night sky with her two most loyal friends. She watched Fionn bend his left arm as he pulled the arrow back aimed at the straw target, Ylva stood in the background swishing wine in her mouth. It was a quiet, nostalgic night- a night of remembrance for the good old times she and her friends shared throughout the years. Earlier that evening, Fionn, a beautiful mischievous griffon, had stolen a few bottles of his father’s wine, while graceful she wolf Ylva stole archery equipment from the Orantova weapons hall. How no one saw Ylva, she did not know, the girl was stealthy and light on her feet--Fionn always said Ylva could be a master thief.

“The Elven princess arrives tomorrow,” she said into the silent night, “And I leave in two days.”

It was a trade between the Elven and Wyr Kingdom, a political statement to enemy kingdoms that the alliance between the two largest realms under the Allahri suns was still strong after a century of peace and prosperity. The kingdoms agreed that the youngest of each ruling house would spend a year at the other kingdom. Since Aysanwen was the youngest child and daughter of the Dragon and Wyr King Iradraketh Arath, she will be visiting the Elven Kingdom of Galellona. 

“I went there once with me da, it was nice, lots of feminine crap,” Fionn said, letting go of the arrow, “you’ll love it Aysan.”

“You’ll be fine, princess. You’re a dragon and your father is Iradraketh Arath.” Ylva reminded her, hinting at her father’s destructive nature when it came to his daughters.

“Here, drink,” Ylva handed her the wine, “I promise we will visit,” she said with her right hand over her heart. No promise was ever taken serious, as that of a wolf; the wolves were known for their loyalty, and so Aysanwen let out an exaggerated sigh, and relaxed into the night.

“So… What’s she like?” Fionn drawled, grabbing another arrow.

“Who? The Elven princess?” she questioned, “Well my mother said she is intelligent and beautiful.”

“For the Gods sakes, your mother says that about everyone,” he complained, “she thinks Ylva is beautiful.”

“Wait, What?” Ylva growled as she threw an empty wine bottle at Fionn’s head.

“Behave Wolf,” he barked, which earned him several more bottles to the body. Commanding a wolf to do anything was an insult; wolves were only commanded by their pact leader.

         It was early morning when she crept back into the palace through the landing entrance. This morning the palace was alive with the sound of bustling servants and joyful singing bards. Some of the servants were readying rooms for any visiting dignitaries from neighboring cities, others were adding the final touches to the Elven princess quarters, but most had already started cooking for the evening feast, a very daunting task feeding a few hundred carnivorous creatures. As she headed up the grand staircase she spied her mother and turned in the other direction, but her mother had already spotted her. Damn dragons and their vision.

“Aysanwen,” her mother sang. “Are you done packing for your visit?”

“No mother,” she grumbled.

“When will you start my dear? A few hours before you leave,” her mother asked. “You are to do nothing but pack today,” she then demanded.

“Oh, I also ordered some more dresses for you from Fleur, and it was given to Ranna.”

Fleur Lunari was an enchanting light fae who specialized in exquisite female clothing. Every female in the Wyr kingdom wanted to be dressed in a Lunari creation, but Aysanwen’s mother, the queen, hired Lunari as the royal stylist. Her mother made Fleur Lunari a very rich fae, but Lunari was a capitalist, she used her fame and skills to open several shops within the Wyr kingdom. The creations were originally a Lunari design, but the clothing was made by her apprentices.

“More dresses,” Aysanwen complained.

“I will not have you at the Elven kingdom wearing rags, dear. Now go pack,” her mother huffed.

Her mother Lileth was a beautiful Air Dragon, in human form she was possibly the most beautiful woman in Western Allahri. As consort to the dragon king, and queen to the wyr kingdom she held great power, but it was her skills in the arcane arts that earned her the title Lileth the Feared. Lileth was a powerful witch, with a special ability to see people’s emotions as it occurred, so she always had a kind word and a bright smile for everyone. It was her mother’s goal in life to keep everyone happy, because it made her happy, but during wartime or epidemics her mother was a snarling beast. It was rumored that her mother was the reason the wyr kingdom won the Sikhmanthrium war. She was assertive and a perfectionist, she wanted everything done right and on her time. How she ended up with Aysanwen’s father, no one knows. He was the opposite, a fierce warrior dragon and the only Elemental dragon to exist under the suns. Her father rarely smiled, despised court life, but loved his family fiercely. He was a simple man with simple tastes, black chainmail leggings, Ebolese with leather boots and an Ebolese chest plate was all he wore, however her mother loved dresses and jewelry. Lileth exuded elegance and grace and she expected her children to do the same, so she was always displeased in Aysanwen’s choice to dress like her father or brothers.

She gave her mother her best pout, which always seemed to work on her father and brothers, but she had learned at an early age it did not affect the female wyrkind.

“Aysan,” her mother said softly, “Is your reason for delaying your packing related to you not wanting to go?”

She looked into her mother’s eyes, eyes that reflected a mother’s warmth and caring, “I want to go mum. I’ve dreamed about the great realms for years and now I finally get to see one, if not a few.” Her mother gave her the warmest, brightest smile.

“My darling daughter, always on a quest for knowledge.”

“I love you mum.”

“I love you too my darling. Now go!”

After her mother ordered her to go pack, Aysanwen returned to her room and a few hours later she had trunks of books, clothing and ingredients packed and ready for her trip. A couple more hours were left before the evening feast, so she decided to write a more powerful paralysis spell to assist her brothers and the wyr army currently fighting in the Southern hills, when the banging at her door disrupted her concentration.

“Enter,” she announced. It was her eldest brother Amalric Rnyx the Fire, or Rnyx the Decimator, as the eldest he was the heir to the dragon king throne. The Wyr king throne was a title earned through rigorous battles and quests, and a title her brother cared nothing for. He was a warrior first and above all, he believed and lived for battle, but his loyalty was to the dragons and no other species. Rnyx lived for strategies and tactics, so her father made him Chief Master General of the Avian Wyrs.  Rnyx was a stern, mean bastard and most people avoided him when necessary.

“Hello sunshine,” he paused, “you look like shit.” Her face pulled into a forced smile, “Thank you. You are ever so kind.”

“No need for the sweetness, sunshine. I was just stopping by to inform you the princess will be arriving within the hour, so you may want,” he paused again and gestured to her with a nod, “…to clean up.”

Aysanwen turned her back dismissing him and the conversation, but she could still feel his presence in the doorway, his eyes on her back, and if she were to guess a frown on his face.

“Aysan,” he hesitated, “I don’t want you going to the Elven kingdom alone-”

“Do not trouble yourself brother, Ranna and Tarak will be joining me on this trip,” she added, hoping her brother would stop.

“Seriously,” he barked, “those two are completely useless. They’re not trained in combat, so they are no use in protecting you.”

“Oh! Thank you brother for constantly insisting that I, a powerful dragon witch need protecting, because you know I can’t seem to protect myself,” she sniffed and lifted her chin, slightly insulted.

“Aysanwen please, if you find yourself in trouble at the Elven Kingdom, DO. NOT.,” he enunciated, “HESITSATE. TO. CALL.” 

“Yes brother,” she whispered on a sigh. Gods she despised this dragon, sometimes.

It was always like this with her family, they tried to protect her from the world and she allowed them. Aysanwen was small for a wyrkind, and even smaller for a dragon, so as a young dragon she was considered the ‘runt of the litter,’ an insult to any creature in any realm, but in Wyr society it meant weakness and her kind hated and preyed on weakness. Her family thought it was their duty to guard her from the harshness of life, but as a wyr that was difficult because her species and her race was a ruthless sort, and at a hundred and thirty six years, she was still a small dragon, they were determined to protect. 

She had spent the last night or two convincing herself that this trip was something she wanted to do. She had read dozens of books on the Elven culture and this was her chance to experience it for herself. The Elven race was an ancient people with ecclesiastic ties born of the first era. Their species consisted of a variety of races, with the Divine high elves serving as ruler of the kingdom. After a millennium of peace among the elves, the dark elves grew weary of the high elven control of the lands and declared war on the high elven race, causing a civil war among the people, and a strain on the high elven court. It was her hunger to study the true nature of the elves that was the driving force behind her decision to go to Galellona, because learning of the Elven heritage from their ancient tomes, scholars and successors had her in deliriously exciting state . Most importantly, as one of the few dragon witches to exist, she will be able to increase her magik skills.

The door finally closed behind her, and she let out an exasperated breath, she grew weary of her family constantly watching over her, for once she wanted to prove to the entire kingdom that she, Dragon Princess Aysanwen, Royal House of Orantova and Kinyrayth can take care of herself.

         Ylva approached the massive white, marble double doors, her shoulders slumped as she carefully opened the door, and dragged herself into the elegantly decorated room of midnight blue walls with silver etchings telling of an ancient battle. On the farthest wall to her right was a large ivory desk with an enormous white leather and ivory chair, currently occupied, with her father and Rnyx flanking the chair.

“Ylva, my dear,” the queen’s silvery voice sang, “please join us, and Ylva there’s no need to be anxious.” She was one of the many people who despised the queen and her ability to sense others emotions, honestly one could not feel anything but happy around the queen, and honestly that was tiring. At the moment she could not help but feel anxious, her mind was currently tripping over itself trying to grasp a single thought.

“Please join us.” The queen motioned to the front of her desk, everything about this screamed serious, and the limited furniture in the over-sized room and the white throne like chair reeked of import.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for sneaking into the weapons hall, but I promise I put everything back,” she blurted into the silent room. Her father and Rnyx scowled at her, but the queen laughed.

“So… You’re the one that’s been stealing the bows and arrows,” Rynx accused, “Idiot guards! You had them believing the hall was haunted.”

“I apologize General Rynx, it will not happen again, sir.”

“I don’t mind you taking it Ylva. If anything, this explains my sister’s amazing ability with a bow but if I have to hear about the palace being haunted one more time, I’ll kill them all.”

“Now Rynx, play nice with the soldiers,” the queen playfully chastised while he grumbled, his perpetual scowl deepening.

“Enough of this,” her father interrupted, never one for having patience.

“Yes, yes, Sandulf is right,” the queen drawled. 

“Now, as you know my daughter is to leave tomorrow for the Elven kingdom,” her majesty paused, “I would like you to join her on this trip,” she paused again waiting for a reaction, maybe a girlish scream, but nothing happened except for the widening of Ylva’s eyes.

“Your Maj-“

“I know it is last minute, but after discussing it with your father and my son, we have come to an agreement.”

“-Majesty, is Aysan’s life in danger. Why the sudden change?”

“You do not question the queen’s authority, girl,” her father barked. Her majesty held her index finger up, signaling for Ylva’s father to shut it.

“Her life is not in danger Ylva, but my son does not trust the elves, and I agree with his suspicions. I believe they are up to something, what exactly? Well, that will be you assignment, to find out,” she answered.

“Yes my queen.”

“But,” her father added, “That’s not all. You see what the princess does not know is, they specifically asked for her. We don’t know what the elves want with the princess, but we cannot trust them.”

“Ylva, I also want you to have fun and enjoy your visit to the Elven Kingdom. After all, the elves are known to indulge in all pleasures of life, and they make delicious wine,” the queen said, winking at her.
{/justify}