This short began for my Daughter who has pestered me for years to write a 'Princess story'. So, this short is just that. Here are a few paragraphs of my ode to my daughter.
The
Dragon and
The Princess
The night is dark as pitch as no star shines from the
heavens above to light this tower that has held me for so long. The colder months begin to slowly fade, the ancient
bricks that form this turret that is my resting place hold the heat from the
midday sun and help to keep me warm as day fades to cool nights. But the night
is a demanding mistress still and the warmth escapes long before the dawn again
comes to the world.
It is almost beyond my reckoning the length of forced
servitude I have endured within these walls, to be set free to do their bidding
at times of their choosing only to return again to mire my soul within. Free,
they are not my equal by any measure yet their hold on me has truly been my
undoing. It is a morbid life I lead, though one could hardly call it a life.
Slavery. It is nothing more yet to call it so would be an insult to the vile
term itself. I am a prisoner set free only to be called to return, which I must
do of my own accord.
This castle, this Whitehall as it is named has been built
upon the backs of those whose allegiance is tied to safety, nothing more. Yet
to pretend the king offers anything more would be preposterous. His well-being
is tied to the peasants who tend the lands and his armies offer them solace
from outsiders who would surely rape their lands and burn their fields of toil.
It is a cruel master whose payment would be nearly the same as those who they
seek protection from.
The lands live forever and I have seen them slowly change
before my downcast eyes. Meadows from my youth once rich and lush with
wildflowers of uncounted hues now bring forth only golden grains that nourish
the populace. Would it be that my time upon this earth would come to an end for
I wish to no longer live within these constraints. Yet to leave my own treasure
at the hands of the king is unthinkable. He has dwelled within Whitehall for a
time that spans generations. His unnatural rule is of my own doing, unwittingly
as it was, for my treasure is both my curse and the only reason I live on.
My ear pricks at the sound of hooves as they approach
Whitehall down the cobbled path, stones laid uncounted years ago. A single
rider I note, his passing swift, the bridge lowered well before his entry. I
suspect his arrival was anticipated as not even a torch signaled his journey
through the night airs. Would I have had the notion of sleep this night his
arrival would surely have awaken me. My slumber is not what it used to be you
understand. These walls squeeze close as I have no space to stretch my wings. Perhaps
I shall hear of the tale he brings from the West Country.
The night slithers on and the dawn is just an hour off yet a
soft glow emanates from the western hills where none should reside. As I crane
my neck above the single opening in the ancient brick, pinpricks of flame begin
to dot the horizon. It can only mean one thing; troops returning from the West
Country. It is an unexpected journey as I have not heard tale of their arrival.
I hear the jest in your thoughts; why should I, their prisoner be counseled of
such matters? Ah, for I am dragon! Last in a line of mercenaries used by the
kings of Whitehall against their enemies. Once our numbers filled the sky,
Titans, but our petty differences and the growing swarm a men became our
undoing. Yet I am none for hire as I reside captured in this hall, my freedom
only to do the king’s bidding.
There is more to come as I write this short. I'll let you all know when it's done. Thanks for reading along.
There is more to come as I write this short. I'll let you all know when it's done. Thanks for reading along.
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