Huffing with annoyance, I walk back to my room with hurried steps, sweat dripping as I return from my training lessons with Agatha. The ghost of her bony hand on my shoulder telling me that I must train harder, much to my disappointment. I smile at the servants and guards that I pass on my way, they smile right back- sincerity and pride shining in their eyes, my heart swells with hope.
I take the left entering into the princess quarters as I am welcomed by a familiar figure. “Princess” Adrian says, bowing down in a way of greeting as I stop him with a loud sound of distaste. His brows furrow in confusion just as a second later understanding twinkles in his hazel eyes. He raises his hand in anticipation, face looking as bored as ever- I wouldn’t have known he secretly approved of my methods if it weren’t for the slight smile that tugged his lips a second before-I clap his upraised hand in an enthusiastic high-five, grinning broadly.
He begins to escort me to my dressing chambers “How’s it going, commander?” I ask as we walk alongside each other; Adrian leads my battalion- and with my brother’s health still in terrible condition, it falls to me to look after this kingdom I so deeply adore- in the little time that I’ve been in charge I’ve come to trust Adrian to a great extent, none to my surprise. “The mortals arranged festivities in your honor, Your Highness”; he replies, respect in his voice. We stop outside the chambers and the dazzling smile I give him is my only reply as I take his leave with a pat on his muscled shoulder.
As I enter the cool room, the rough leathers of my sparring gear rub against each other reminding me of my lesson today- I’d fared excellently in sword fights; hand to hand combats however, that topic was for another day. I lay down on the couch with a sigh and the smell hits me much before I feel the effects of the disaster- magic.
Not any ordinary magic; old, dark magic- the kinds that my parents had banned from this kingdom-seven hundred years ago. Less than a heartbeat later, my sword is drawn, my massive wings are out and my face is set in a snarl- Faerie senses tingling. A huff of air is blown my way- from the back- I turn to meet red eyes; each as big as my face.
The Witch’s dragon- Azriel- crouches behind me; I panic, heartbeat racing even as I greet him with a sly smile- “Well hello there” I say, “isn’t it too late to carry on with traditions as such?”; I ask mockingly- never let them know you’re afraid, that’s rule number one. Azriel roars, his claws reaching to slice through me; I evade effortlessly years of lessons coming into play. He’s got the strength but I’ve got the speed. He stretches to his massive expanse occupying my colossal chambers; wrecking my dressing room- he tears through rows and rows of silk dresses but more than that it’s the training leather he demolishes that causes my fury to soar.
The same old story every time ‘princess is captured by the dragon; helpless and alone, no one to save her’ countless years are wasted on this futile gamble. I unleash my power on the dragon- mind aching with the intensity of it- as I block his movements with powerful gusts of wind from my wings- don’t harm those who are not the cause to the violence; that’s rule two- Azriel is under one of The Witch’s most horrid spells. He was once a soldier in the army of my ancestors, I shall not hurt him. My power stretches around his mighty length in black tendrils as he thrashes to regain control. My red ruby adorned sword moves along with me like lightning. Block, defend, repeat- I do this again and again until I feel Azriel’s strength wane.
With one final blow- both; with my mind that controls my power and my muscles that control my sword- I bring him down, hot bursts of air coming out from his nostrils. I do not end his life, instead I show him with my powers, the good he is capable of- I enter his mind; replay the glory, the respect he’d earned before his curse-stricken life- I remind him, and he reminisces. “You WILL stand down”, I tell him; the authority of the Princess of Fae in my voice. He roars again-softly this time- and struggles to grasp my motive but with a final memory that I send down his mind; he calms. The red in his eyes turns to clear yellow as he bows in reverence, I move gently so as to not alarm him and place a hand on his nozzle. Azriel sighs and the appalling smell of magic is replaced by a calm.
The doors to my room bang open with a loud thud as Adrian enters- his own powers ready to defend, “Princess”, says my commander panic in his eyes, “One second I was on my way to the throne room to notify the mortals and the next we were all frozen in place-“he cuts of mid-sentence eyes widening with dread at the figure looming over me.
“You needn’t worry”, I say my blood thrumming with the after effects of a tedious fight, I slowly calm my breathing. “Commander, I think you owe me”, I say- with feigned seriousness, “I’ve recruited a new member for your army” I turn around and with a dramatic gesture present to him magnificent Azriel- who looks just as wary as the commander. “But I-“, he struggles for words. “Oh hush!” I exclaim, “Shouldn’t you have more faith in your Princess?” I ask, both my hands on my heart as if I’ve been offended. “Apologies Princess” comes his reply. With another pat on his shoulder I walk out of the room, “I believe I have a party to attend with the mortals!” I exclaim.
# abide by your principles