Summer's Dragon

by Lisa Daniels

  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, h
is 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?”

  The prince gave her a wry twitch of his lips. “Perhaps. I'm sure you'll cook wonderfully...” He closed the distance between them, and gave her a languid, impish look, his hooded eyes boring into her. Esmer shivered, and her mind skipped to the fairy Godmother prophecy.

  Oh, Gods. Gerran was a prince.

  Surely it didn't mean that? And if it did, wouldn't there be far more Questers aiming to take down the prince of dragons? The hoards he concealed must be glorious and glittering with riches. Would Gerran fight alone, or would he employ party members, like typical five man band Questers?

  I forget how dangerous it actually is for dragons to take a princess. The reward for them must be higher than the risk in their society. It's the only thing that makes sense.

  She preferred focusing on that thought, rather than the fact Gerran stood so close that she smelled the deep, musky scent of his maleness, heard the narrow huff of his breath, felt his presence slowly envelop and overwhelm her, as if he was expanding to fill every empty spot in the room.

  Maybe she felt that effect because of the knowledge his true form happened to be a humongous blue scaled dragon. Maybe she sensed the aura of the dragon, wrapped up in his tiny human meat frame.

  Rather than the fact she might be harboring some serious sexual attraction towards his physical form.

  When I wanted to have a dragon as a pet, this wasn't quite what I had in mind.

  She bit down on her lip to suppress a laugh, even as Gerran bowed. “I look forward to whatever it is you plan to cook later. Just... lay off on the poisons, will you? Most princesses seem to obtain the bright idea to add deadly herbs at some point. So I'll need to explain to you that dragons are immune to virtually all poisons.”

  “Except dragonleaf, right?” Esmer said, wanting to prove she wasn't completely ignorant. Gerran's eyes flickered slightly at the statement.

  “Yes. Thankfully, dragonleaf is rare, since we make a habit of burning it whenever we find it.”

  Esmer smiled. Although she didn't plan to poison anyone, she found the look of worry creasing his brow strangely empowering. As if he wasn't sure just what exactly he'd agreed to let into his home.

  Chapter Three

  For the next few weeks, Esmer adapted to her new life as a dragon's princess. She took to all her chores with a lusty enthusiasm that greatly disturbed all the other dragons in the vicinity, and she often heard them muttering, “unnatural,” when they passed her. Her limited eight food wonder dish gained popularity with Gerran and some of his closest friends, and he grew confident and cheerful of inviting them over to his abode to try out Esmer's steaks or potato bake dishes. It seemed to be quite the novelty to have a princess that actually knew how to bake things.

  The other dragons spoke out their concern as well when Esmer was allowed to go wandering around the prince's residence and out onto the streets. Several had even stopped her, thinking she might be escaping, and she needed to explain to them, over and over that she wasn't escaping, just walking around.

  It became frustrating after a bit, because no one wanted to believe her. Even the other princesses currently captured by dragons seemed to think Esmer might be possessed by demons or something, because they didn't understand how she liked being a dragon's princess.

  “It's easy,” she explained to one green eyed princess known as Otera, clearly growing out her hair to try and use it to break out her tower at a point, “because I hated life back in Naterus. My mother was going to marry me to some pimply prince, and that wasn't for me.”

  “But you should want to be married to a prince!” Otera blinked her fabulously long eyelashes, her pretty face agape in horror. “That's unheard of! No one wants to run away to avoid being married!”

  “I did,” Esmer said, suppressing the sigh that threatened to come out, along with the urge to roll her eyes and possibly strangle Otera. Most princesses held that same, air head quality that princes found so endearing, for some reason. It made Esmer seriously contemplate homicide to encounter it.

  Gerran, of course, loved the attention she created. For him, Esmer suspected, she was a novelty, a highly unusual creatu
re that only came across the dragons once in a blue moon, though there had been tales before of princesses actively choosing to be a dragon's princess over life in the hundred kingdoms. Alright to hear about them, something else to witness it in person.

  Gerran kept his cool, even when the first of the Questers started coming. To date, Esmer watched him fight three knights, one ice mage, and a band of five with conveniently balanced abilities, from a warrior to a healer to a ranger. Thanks to Gerran's Idol of Despair, a particularly powerful witch enchantment that the Questers unfortunately hadn't received the antidote for, Gerran thrashed them all quite admirably.

  One time, he showed Esmer his collection of enchantments, and Esmer simply sat there, impressed, as the noble faced prince took out the objects from his hoard one by one. “I have a Cloak of Illusion. Perfect for sneaking around, though people tend to look down on you if you resort to trickery in these places. Got it for a spell from a swamp witch. And then there's the Dragon Horn. The human kingdom of Vrytal, hundreds of years ago, possessed this, but they didn't read the fine print that stated that the dragons you can summon with it may not necessarily obey your commands. As of now, Vrytal is the second dragon kingdom in the Wilderness.”

  Esmer listened to this with her lips curled in faint amusement. She pictured some hapless prince blowing on the horn, and then a great swarm of dragons bombarding their kingdom moments later, summoned by the power of the artefact.

  “This is a Genie bottle, here. But you can't open it, because someone wished for the Genie to be sealed so tightly that no one can ever release them again. Shame, I would have liked my three wishes.”

  He casually handed Esmer the bottle, with the stopper in it, and two eyes squashed against the glass, looking rather pissed off. She tapped it, and the eyes blinked.

  “The Cauldron of Endless Food is a truly remarkable enchantment, though there's an inherent design flaw in that it just won't stop producing the food you ask it to.” Gerran indicated a shiny black cauldron perched on a table, hissing softly. “I'm planning to go on an artefact hunt. You're welcome to come along with me, since I'll be visiting a witch along the way. You wanted magic lessons, right?”